KURT DIDN'T STAY sober.
The night after his first full day without heroin in months, Kurt rose from Lindy's bed with difficulty and told her that he was leaving.
She had been worried as soon as the words had left his mouth. She had even tried to stop him, weaving in and out of his path towards the front door.
There was no doubt that he was leaving to go back to Courtney. Lindy already knew that that was happening because naturally, it was the responsible thing of Kurt to do.
Her problem was more so that he was giving up what he had already started. Lindy didn't need to consider the issue further to understand that that was what it was.
Kurt couldn't do it. Not a single fiber in his body had been able to withstand the urge to find the nearest dealer. He wasn't equipped to handle such poisonous desire and even though Lindy could see straight into the depths of his soul, she knew he couldn't fight it even when he so badly wanted to.
"I won't come back if you don't want me to," Kurt said softly when she had looked away from him, chewing the inside of her cheek as he'd opened the door. She wasn't sure how to stop him unless she physically tackled him to the ground.
Lindy had pressed her fist against her mouth to restrain the wail that gurgled in the back of her throat. She was close to throwing herself down on the ground and begging. She would have kissed his feet if it meant getting him to stop once and for all. For her. For Frances. For their baby.
"Don't be ridiculous," she finally replied.
And with that, Kurt had walked out the door and back into the same cruel world that had chewed him up and spit him right back out.
_________
The whirlwind that ensued after Kurt's attempt to give up heroin left Lindy burdened with a heavy sense of foreboding. Something was coming, that much she knew of. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself that the end wasn't near, it kept creeping back up on her, swarming closer and closer to her.
He was avoiding her, something that in all the time of their being together had never happened. She was half-tempted to call his house, but didn't want to have to put up with the drama that would follow if Courtney answered.
Lindy relied on Krist to be her link to Kurt. Again, Krist had become the crutch Lindy so badly needed when things fell apart. Her old friend was as reliable as ever when she contacted him, digging for updates on Kurt.
"He's stopped coming over. I want to know what's wrong," Lindy vented anxiously.
"Well, the other night he locked himself in his bedroom with a bottle of pills and a couple of guns. Courtney called the police and they took it all away."
Lindy felt like Krist had kicked her square in the chest. Under the wind swept from her lungs, she gagged slightly.
Her sweet Kurt, the same man that she had never even imagined capable of hurting a fly, had threatened his life with guns. Not to mention, Lindy detested guns. Having grown up in the redneck armpit of Washington where hunters spawned like rodents, she supposed she should have gotten used to them. But they were barbaric. To even picture Kurt holding one was a marred image, a disgrace to the usual golden light that she saw him in.
"Linds, how about I just come over? Would that be okay?" Krist asked gently. Lindy didn't like the tone of his voice — it sounded like there was something else he had to tell her, something difficult that would require more hushed tones and sympathy.
