From Eden

five

The next couple of days were daunting.

I spent Friday recovering from my bender. I talked to Jaden a bit, and found out that he was blacked out most of the time too, so he had no clue what all happened. The rest of that day was fighting on and off with my father about working at the ALDC. When we were arguing in the kitchen that night, Brooke overheard and joined the conversation. She made fun of me for a moment, but then gave me a hug and said she thinks it's for the best, and that she was really worried about me the past few days I was gone. It made my heart soften a bit, and I laid off my dad.

My mom found out the following day, when I called her about it. She lectured me about going on a three day drinking spree (imagine if she knew what else I had done) and, as much as she wanted to protect me from Abby, she thought working there was for the better too. She said, "I'd rather you be safe at the ALDC than dying out on the street."

I spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday avoiding human contact and smoking, mostly because of how anxious I was for Monday. The other reason, besides addiction, was that I felt like such a failure. I gathered I would need to act like I was only staying for a little while, like Chloe, so nobody would know this job was my lifeline. Who knows, maybe I would show up to work, they'd drug test me, and I'd be sent home immediately anyway.

I also kept thinking about the issue of working with Chloe; I hadn't come to terms with the fact I would be facing her that week. It almost didn't feel real, so it was easier to think about hypothetically. I imagined a bunch of scenarios in my head about what would happen, but none of them felt completely right. I thought about us fighting, talking, ignoring each other...the most probable scenario was we would both arrive, say hello, and fall completely silent after. I'd apologize to her after we got our hiring stuff done, and she would accept my apology and I'd feel better. Hopefully.

Now, I was about to find out exactly what was going to happen. It was six in the morning, and I was scheduled to report to the Abby Lee Dance Company at eight. In my pajamas, I went out to the back porch to smoke two joints; I'd need them today. My skin was already crawling with anxiety when I woke up, and I barely even slept last night. There was no way I could eat, either...my stomach was churning relentlessly. Once I was close to being smoked out, I went back inside and changed into some black dress pants and a blouse. I made sure to layer on the perfume and deodorant, so they wouldn't be able to smell the weed on me. I brushed my hair out and applied light makeup so I didn't look homeless, and I also went the extra mile and put a bandaid on the single, bruised track mark on my arm.

I still couldn't believe I used heroin. That also sat in my mind the past couple days, and I would admire the little bruise on my arm like it was a piece of art. I guess the good part about being drunk and out of it while using was that I barely remembered what it felt like being on it, so there was no way for me to be craving it now. Though I was curious about how it felt, I wasn't dumb enough to try it again.

I left my house fifteen minutes to eight, and sat in the car for the five minutes I had left in the parking lot. I was fidgeting despite the marijuana, and warily looking out for Chloe or Christi's cars. The only cars in the lot, however, were a black Mazda, a gray Chrysler minivan, and a white Mercedes.

When it was time, I took a deep breath and got out of the car, trying to act confident. Inside, my guts were twisting, and I felt like passing out. It did help that Chloe wasn't there, as far as I knew, but the anticipation of being eye to eye with Abby Lee Miller after about nine years was inexplicable.

I opened the door to the studio, and a load of memories slapped me in the face all at once. It was all the same, every bit of it. The receptionist desk, the piles of paperwork everywhere, the hallways surrounding...it all hit me in the chest like a stack of bricks. Sitting at the desk was a young woman, most likely a little bit older than me.