Miss, Do I Know You?

22 - Friday, January 1

Frantic eyes scanned the room, searching for solace, while beads of sweat coalesced on my face. But as I wiped my cheeks with a trembling hand in a futile attempt to stem that feeling of sadness beneath my skin, I comprehended that I had wept in my sleep, unable to recollect the exact cause. I felt like my entire being had been wrung out, leaving me exhausted and wracked with anxiety.

As my awareness dawned upon the fact that it had merely been a haunting dream, I perched myself on the balcony, cigarette in hand, an ember of respite in current state of life. Once, the refuge of choice may have been taking pills or downing a few drinks to numb myself into a blissful stupor, but those crutches had been stripped away. Vices had built up my walls over the years, but nothing could protect me from the onslaught of emotions anymore. It was hard not giving in to the urge when I felt the need so strong, beckoning me toward the familiar abyss.

For nearly a week, I had resolved to sever the chains that bound me to drug dependence. But every day was a battle waged against my own psyche, an internal landscape fraught with unfamiliar and warring emotions. Saying no to myself was uncharted territory, both challenging and daunting.

The simple truth was that I could scarcely remember a single week in recent years where I hadn't surrendered to the lulling embrace of weed or alcohol. Despite caring for myself for almost six years, I found myself questioning my ability to steer my own ship. It became achingly apparent that, bereft of those crutches, I was faltering in the basic responsibility of guiding my own path.

I didn't know what to do or how to make myself feel better. Alex had spent New Year's at Gabi's, an offer I had turned down. Although I didn't know what she had told her sister about me and our current living situation, shame clung to me, tainting the prospect of encountering her or Benji. My spirit quivered beneath the weight of self-consciousness, burdened by the troubles that entangled not only my own existence but also that of Alex and her family because of me.

Unaware of her return, yet buoyed by the breath of hope, I traced hushed footfalls toward her bedroom. And as her name escaped my lips, carried by the gentle moonbeams, I discerned a rustling of sheets and a soft, indistinct murmur.

The obscurity of the room dissolved under the warm glow of the nightlight, unveiling her—sprawled out on the bed on her stomach, her upper back lit by the light, her tattoos dancing like shadows across the bare skin.

Alex turned around, the blanket enveloping her as she sat up against the wooden headboard. "Mm?" her voice emerged in a mumble, her eyes barely able to pry themselves open, groggy and still immersed in slumber. "Everything okay, hone— uh, Kay?"

My voice cracked with the tears I had been trying to hold back as I muttered, "I feel like shit."

Wiping away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, she patted the space beside her. "Come here," she laid out, her voice as soft and sweet as a gentle lullaby.

Though a light sleeper, she seemed to be having a hard time completely awakening. Her half-conscious state was apparent in her misty gaze and languorous motions, dancing on the threshold of slumber and reality. But it emanated a warmth, unfalteringly endearing.

"You're naked, Alex."

Her eyes fluttered down to her bare shoulders and then back to me, where reality settled. And as she scooted to the edge of the bed and reached for the neat pile of clothes on the dresser, the blanket covered less with each passing second. I allowed my gaze to ascend her legs and her naked back. But a sudden rush of propriety flooded my senses, compelling me to avert my eyes, not even daring to peek in her direction.

In a moment, she was beside me, a gentle smile on her lips and a sleepy raspiness in her voice. "I'll make you some tea," she said and beckoned me to follow. "Tell me what's on your mind."