Cricket: Ember's Story

Doors

I've really taken Gus's concept of mental doors to heart, and now I think of everything in terms of rooms. I've managed to divide my life into three big rooms. I call Room 1 Jesse and Room 2 Cricket. Those rooms are separate but are connected through one locked door. That door is there because I still have hope we can be a family. I know that's really stupid after what Jesse said to me the other night, but I can't give it up. That's what Room 3 is for: all my stupid and unattainable dreams. Like, someday I will kick the streets, heal Jesse's pain, fix his addiction, make him stop hurting me, get Cricket, hold him without making him cry, and we will be a family.

I know all this shit with Jesse started with one thing: his own whore of a mother. His hatred of that woman runs really fucking deep, and I can't blame him. She skipped out on him when he was just a kid, left him with his despicable father and never once made contact. She basically died, but it's worse because she's still alive. If she'd died, there would be closure and Jesse could move on. But he can't. Some part of him still waits for her. That's why I'm trying to get Cricket back. A dad can hurt you deep, sure, but it's always the mother that causes the fatal wound.

West is waiting for me at the next NA meeting. My flip-flops crunch loudly on the gravel parking lot. It's getting too cold for flip-flops, but there's not much I can do about it. He starts to hug me but I get freaked out and kinda move at a weird angle and his hand touches my boob. His face goes bright red, and I just try to pretend it didn't happen. I expect him to do the same, but instead he says:

"Nice."

"You're a pig," I say, rolling my eyes.

He laughs. "It's a compliment. You reply with thank you."

"For saying I have a nice rack?"

"If you wanna play fair I'll let you touch my ass. If you wanna touch the dick I'll have to touch the other boob though. Sorry. Two balls equals two boobs."

"What kinda math is that?"

"Common core."

"Well no thank you," I say, following him into the meeting.

Grace attacks me at the coffee station with a big hug. "We've all been waiting for you to come back!" she says ecstatically.

I pat her lime green sequined jacket. "Don't get your hopes too high. I just don't think I can give up on Cricket."

"Good for you!" Grace says.

Tonight she is wearing black spandex tights, a Pink Floyd crop top with a lime green sequined jacket over it, and her gray hair is dyed bright pink.

"Well I missed a meeting with the social worker so... maybe they gave up on me. But I'll try to reason with her," I say. "I mean, we did lose our house..."

I stop short when I see the looks on both of their faces and realize how little they actually know about me.

"You lost your house?" Grace asks at the same time West says, "Where are you staying?"

"I'm staying with friends. We're good," I reply quickly, hoping they'll drop the subject.

"Like at a shelter?"

I think about our haunt under the bridge. "Um... Sort of."

It's a shelter from the rain anyway and it's near a mission. We all got hot showers there this morning, and my borrowed clothes are free of holes and stains. We can eat breakfast and dinner there too, and we're just on our own for lunch. No, it's nothing like having our beautiful mansion back, but we're making it. I could almost pass for normal. Almost.

The meeting starts before they can interrogate me further, but I know I'm not off the hook.

The meetings always start and end with this thing called a "burning desire." West and I make fun of it all the time and he'll look over at me with these smoldering eyes and I'll pretend to swoon and fan myself.

The leader will say: "We always reserve the first and last five minutes of each meeting for a burning desire. A burning desire can be described as an intense need to use or hurt yourself or others."

Then they always say something like, "Don't ever leave with a burning desire. Don't ever take it home."

It's like a time to mentally drop it and run away, I guess. Usually no one says anything except a couple newbies, sometimes, but that's about it. I mean, that's some pretty private shit. That's why I'm shocked when West speaks up after the meeting.

"I would like to say something."

I feel nervous for him. My palms are sweating and I sense every eyeball. I wanna jump outta my skin. But he just sits there calm and cool.

"I've had a really shitty week. I tried to talk to my dad. It was the first time since... you know."

A few heads nod but I have no idea what he's talking about.

"And... let's just say it didn't go well. And it's been almost four years and I had a lot of hope that he'd forgive me, or at least talk to me, but he won't. He said he will never forgive me. He told me he hates me. And all I wanted to say was..."

West pauses and shakes his head. His jaw clenches with the effort to hold back tears. It's
A good thirty seconds before he continues.

"All I wanted to say was, 'You know what, Dad? I fucking hate me too. I hate me more than you could ever hate me. So let's hate me together. I'm sick of being alone. That's all. I'm just sick of being alone. And fuck I wanna use. So bad. But every goddamn day I get up and I don't, and every goddamn day I hate myself and I hate what I did and I'm sorry. But nothing will ever atone for it or change it. Not three years in prison. Not every day of self loathing. Nothing. I am not forgivable. And I don't know what the point of trying is right now. I don't know what I'm fighting so hard for, and why can't I just use? Why not?"

At some point, tears started rolling down my own cheeks because every word he says is what I feel. I wanna say, "Me too." I wanna hold his hand or something, but I'm just frozen, thinking of my own sins.

West takes a deep breath. "Anyway. I feel low. Not low enough to die or something, but I do feel low enough to use. What difference would it make, right? I mean, why am I fighting so goddamn hard? Why does anybody fight this fight?"

I'm scared, and it takes me awhile to figure out why. He has the look. It's the same look that Jesse gets when he talks about dying... the look someone has when they're drifting away from life and don't care anymore.

"That's all. Thanks for listening," West says.

And the meeting is over. The burning desire is the last thing that gets shared, so no one can respond to it 'till afterwards. West ignores every attempt anyone makes to talk to him, and he leaves without even saying goodbye to me or Grace, which is something he's never done.

I walk back to the bridge really slowly, hoping he'll catch up to me, but I walk the whole way alone.