Bay City Runaway

Chapter 17

(2007)

When I arrived at home, Amy was cooking dinner. She did not seem to notice me coming in, so I went into the kitchen to say hello. She did not look up.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing much. I just told someone that I was in love with them, and they stomped all over my heart. No big deal."

I went to the cabinet out of habit to pour a drink and found it empty. It occurred to me that this could be harder than I expected. I needed some relief.

"You don't want to be in a relationship with me, Amy."

"I'm already in a relationship with you, James."

"You know what I mean."

She went quiet and stirred the chili on the stove.

"Look, I need to make a call," I said.

I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and my lighter, went outside, and started looking for my phone contacts for George. I found it, but I hesitated. It was around dinner time; I didn't want to disturb him. Instead, I lit a cigarette and took a few drags, hoping for some sort of relief. I hadn't smoked all day, and the buzz came on strong, but it didn't last. It wasn't the same. I thought of the pills and realized that I hadn't thrown them away with the booze. My arm had pretty much healed, and I was no longer in any pain from the accident, but it was medicine. How could medicine be bad? I thought, but even in my thinking, I could see the flaw. These were the same pills that got me into the hospital just days before. I finished up my cigarette and stamped it out on the sidewalk, then walked inside. Amy was not in the kitchen. I found the bottle of pills, and there were only a few left. Not enough to do any significant damage. I thought hard for a moment about what it would feel to take them. It would take the edge off my discomfort; give me some relief.

"What are you doing with those?" Amy said, walking into the kitchen.

"Oh. Yeah, just throwing them away."

"Good," she said.

I tossed them in the kitchen trash and said, "Yeah, I actually went to an AA meeting today."

"Oh yeah?" she said, dropping the subject of our relationship.

"Yeah. It wasn't all that bad."

"I'm really glad you are doing that, James. That shit nearly killed you. GOD, you're such an asshole," she said, turning back to the stove.

"Look. I'm really sorry about all that. And while it's on my mind, where were you the last month?"

"Please, let's not. I was somewhere safe, and that's all you need to know."

"Ok ok. Just glad you're ok. So, are you going to be hanging around, then?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she checked the cornbread in the oven and closed the oven door, her back to me. When she turned around, she was crying. "James, you don't understand. When they called me, they made it seemed like you might die or something. You don't fucking get it!" she shouted. "I thought you were going to fucking die!"

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to make it right. I'm trying to get sober and get my shit back together. I wasn't really trying to kill myself, you know. I just went a little overboard."

"Whatever," she said, turning her back to me. "I don't know what happened to you in Oklahoma, but you're going to have to deal with that shit before it kills you."

I didn't have an answer to this.

"So," she said, back still to me, "What's the deal with this Kyra person? Are you...like...a thing? Did you fuck her?"