Flowers In His Hair - H.S

H.S. Flowers In His Hair - 16

Trigger warning—insensitive jokes about substance abuse and also talking about Overdosing.

This is another favorite chapter, it's so sweet for the most part and just happiness. The way Aliza explains things blow my mind sometimes. Sam is also a favorite of mine and I always think of my uncle when I write about him. 

***

The boys and girls in the clique.
The awful names that they stick.
You're never going to fit in much, kid.

"I still can't believe I forgot to reveal the name," Aliza grumbles under her breath when she returns from the bathroom.

She falls onto the couch next to me. Elijah is sitting on the chair. I don't think he's fully recovered from his meeting with Amy.

"It slipped your mind. The important people know." I try to soothe her. She throws her legs over my thighs. Christ. I don't show her it hurt, though.

"You're right. It was a huge success. I shouldn't worry about what went wrong." I smile because I was right for a change.

I start to rub her feet as she relaxes on the couch. "So when exactly did this start?" Elijah asks, waving his hand towards us.

"Well... It all started when I was nine." He cuts her off with a scoff. "Can't even say exactly, six months?" She lifts her head from the couch to get confirmation.

"Yea, six months, two weeks and a day." Her eyes stretch. "Give or take a week," I add quickly, and she cracks a smile.

 "A lot of things happened," I tell him. He nods. "I went to rehab." Well, just put it out there—rip off the bandage.

"Got messed up. Became a drug addict. Nearly killed me, heroin overdose." Did he shot himself up?
My breathing is staggered.

"In and out for two years, Been clean for three." I am breathing better again. "Did you have someone, someone who helped you?" Aliza asks; she's nervous about the answer. I can feel it.

"Yea, my adoptive mother. She's a saint; she still takes care of me." She relaxes again.

"Glad your okay, man. Sorry about the weed." He brushes me off. "Doesn't bother me, just can't take any chances.

We catch up for a while; it's mostly Elijah telling us about all his adventures he's been on. He doesn't know how long he's staying, and I offer him my apartment for as long as he needs.

Aliza excuses herself to go to bed, and I walk him next door to help him get settled. "My bags are still at the hotel; I'll get them tomorrow."

"Cool, so I guess no tequila either?" I walk to the kitchen. "No, definitely tequila." I laugh at him and grab some glasses from the cabinet. My mind flickers to me, holding the glass loosely in my hand.

The pills and empty bottles. I pinch my eyes. Mitch, standing over me. "You okay, man?" I shake it away. I turn around and place the glasses on the counter.

I bend down to fetch the tequila and pour it silently. Going to need more than that. I tip the bottle, filling it more.

I exhale loudly. I turn my side to him. He hasn't said anything; he's just waiting patiently. I lift my shirt; my arm is also on display. "Near overdose, Cocaine, and antidepressants, a couple of months ago." He nods. Grab the glass and down half of the liquid.

"It hurts, knowing how it could end. I was starting on the wrong path again, and then I saw Aliza; I ran away." He laughs, and it feels good. To talk to someone else who knows what Aliza is to me.