Tangled Web Series Box Set Page 8

  Johnny tried to smile his trademark grin, but his skin didn’t have its usual elasticity. It was tight and leathery. He looked like shit. He looked sick. “What hasn’t happened, Katie?” He sighed. “The world has fucked me over.” He shook his head. “No. That’s not true, and that’s not why I’m here. Katie, you’re the only person I can trust and the only person I could come to.”

  Katie nodded and took Johnny’s hands in hers. Maybe he has AIDS, she thought, or cancer. She forced herself to concentrate and listen. “I’m here, Johnny. You can trust me. What can I do?”

  “Oh, Jesus, Katie. I’ve been doing this shit too long.”

  “What do you mean? The road?”

  “No, Katie. Junk. Smack. Mr. Brownstone.”

  “Mr.—” She got it. “Oh, crap.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, heroin. It’s bad, Katie. I thought I could handle it, but...”

  “Oh, Johnny.” She held him in her arms as he wept. He felt thin and weak to Katie. She didn’t have any soothing words to say. She’d never experienced addiction, so she doubted she could say anything meaningful. When he relaxed, she said, “So what do you need me to do?”

  “Can I stay here for a while? I need someplace to crash. I’m gonna quit, but I need to be somewhere safe with someone I trust. Is that okay?”

  “Is what okay?”

  “If I hang out here for a while. I’ve got to quit this shit before it kills me. And there’s no way I’ll be able to do it with my so-called friends.”

  “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

  Johnny nodded, his eyes dilated, his mouth dry and lips cracked. “Thanks.”

  “So, if you’re quitting heroin, shouldn’t you see a doctor or check into rehab or something?”

  He shook his head. “They can’t do anymore than you could.” He paused. “Are you sure you want to help?” She nodded, pursing her lips. “Can I have a glass of water, and then can I tell you what else I’ll need?”

  Katie’s head bobbed up and down. “Sure. Just a sec.” Katie bit down on her lip as she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. How the hell had Johnny let this happen? She’d known he had done some illicit drugs in the past—he’d assured her that “that’s what rock stars do: sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.” But she’d also thought he was only doing them recreationally and that, when he wasn’t on the road, he was clean and sober.

  Well, that idea had been a stupid assumption.

  Now he was an addict, and she could tell by looking at him that it was killing him. She worried about what was going to happen and what he needed her to do. She brought him the water and sat next to him on the couch. He sipped in silence, just staring at her coffee table. Katie thought she should at least feel relief—at least he didn’t have AIDS or cancer, and at least he wasn’t addicted to meth or crack…not that heroin addiction was a walk in the park.

  Johnny finally looked at her, and she felt horrified seeing him. His cheeks were sunken, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His pupils were dilated slightly, so he had the unnatural look that people have when they leave the eye doctor. His skin was pasty and had a film of perspiration. Katie could hardly believe the man sitting next to her was her old childhood friend. He said, “The next few days are going to suck. Bad. But I need to do it. I’ve done it before, so I know I can, but it sucks. That’s why I knew I needed to be with a friend.” Katie nodded. “So here’s what I need. Aspirin, Pepto-Bismol, and probably some beer.”

  “Beer?”

  “Yeah. Something to calm me down.”

  Katie nodded her head. “Well, I think I have all that stuff.”

  “Okay, um, then I just need to sit it out. Oh, I guess I’ll probably need a trashcan too, in case I, uh, throw up.”

  Katie nodded again. “Okay.”

  “I’m sure you want to know what to expect. I’ll probably have problems sleeping, so maybe some movies to watch would be good. And I’ll feel achy and really sick and nauseous.” He grabbed Katie’s hand. “No matter what, though, don’t let me leave. Remind me that I begged you to not let me leave.”

  “All right.” Katie took a deep breath. “Maybe you should take a shower, and I can make up the couch for you to sleep on. Unless you want my bed. But you said you wanted to watch movies, and my only TV is out here.”

  “The couch is fine.”

  Katie was relieved that Johnny looked a little better after his shower. He certainly smelled better. He came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist, and Katie was even more shocked at seeing his skeletal body. She’d seen Johnny without his shirt a lot—he often took it off onstage—so she knew he’d lost a lot of weight since the last time she saw him. His ribs were clearly visible and his pecs and what had once been a six-pack were nothing to speak of. “I didn’t think about this. I don’t have anything to wear that’s clean.”

  “Well, I can wash your clothes in the morning in the laundry room downstairs, but let me see what I have for now.” They finally settled on a pair of stretchy sweat pants and a large t-shirt that Katie sometimes wore as a night shirt. She made up the couch with several blankets, a sheet, and a pillow. She also placed a trashcan beside the couch. “Hey, Johnny?” she called from the bathroom as he sat on the couch.

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t have aspirin or Pepto. I do have Tylenol and Maalox. Will they work?”

  “They’ll do. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

  She brought them out and set them on the coffee table. She took his water glass back to the kitchen, rinsed it out, and filled it with fresh water and a couple of ice cubes. She called to the living room, “Are you sure you want a beer?”

  “Not right now, thanks. But maybe later.” He looked up at Katie as she came back in the room. “Hey, thanks for doing this.”

  Katie lied. “No problem.” She did want to be there for her friend, but what lay ahead actually scared the shit out of her. She wanted to help, though, and she would. She wanted her old Johnny back.

  “Well, just so you know, the symptoms could start anytime between now and tomorrow. I don’t know when. I just wanted to warn you. And I might get scary—you know, shaking, cramping, in a lot of pain, vomiting. And I’m sorry about that.”

  “Johnny, don’t worry about it. Just get better, okay?”

  She brought him a stack of DVDs, bolted the front door, and hugged him. She told him there was beer in the fridge if he wanted it and told him he could wake her up if he needed her. His visit became a long three days that blurred in her mind. She wound up calling off of work for two days to care for him, and at one point she almost took him to the hospital until he begged her not to. The first night he woke her up around three-thirty and asked if he could sleep next to her in her bed. She wound up holding him the rest of the night. He had been right about everything that would happen, but his words weren’t able to prepare her for how it would make her feel.

  And seeing her friend like that removed all traces of her infatuation. Katie knew that, because of Johnny’s career, the temptation of drugs would always be there. They would always be available, cheap, and easy. And now that Johnny was a recovering addict (she hoped, at least, that he’d remain in recovery), the siren song of heroin would always beckon to him. She knew she would never be able to compete with the triad he’d named: sex, drugs, and the music.

  More than that, though, she pictured the two of them together, Johnny in the shape he was in as a heroin addict and Katie who was slowly seeking a healthier lifestyle after her father had died from cancer. Johnny was now unappealing. She still loved him as a friend and had no animosity toward him, and even after seeing him at his worst, she wasn’t repulsed by him. He would always be her friend, and she would always care for him. But the fact that he’d buried himself in a drug and let it completely overrun his life, that he’d been killing himself took any shine off the apple that Johnny once was. Her old high school crush faded away. And she was glad and relieved, because Johnny had hel
d her heart tightly for more than ten years, and it had caused her to say no to third and fifth dates, discussions about the future, and far too many interested men before they reached second base. When Johnny left her apartment a week later a healthy man, Katie felt that her head was healthy too.

  Enter Grant. She’d known Grant for two years, and he’d been content in the background, pursuing her with a slow-and-steady pace. She hadn’t led him on, but she hadn’t had the heart to push him away. The next time he asked her on a date, she accepted. And Katie found that, after the chaos she’d witnessed with Johnny, steady Grant was a welcome change.

  Or at least she had thought that until Johnny breezed back in her life again.

  Chapter Nine

  SHE’D STOPPED BY Johnny’s mom’s house after work, and his mom told Katie that Johnny was down at Bad Boys, one of the local biker bars. She explained to Katie that Johnny was auditioning band members, and Bad Boys had offered to let Johnny use the bar. His mom treated Katie like she always did, so Katie hoped Johnny hadn’t told her about what had recently transpired between the two.

  Katie almost visibly shuddered. She would never go to Bad Boys of her own accord. She had nothing against bikers, but she knew that most of the bar fights in town occurred there. She’d heard far too many stories. But she needed to see Johnny, now that she’d had time to think and compose herself. She’d left a couple of messages with his mom that he hadn’t returned, so she knew she had to see him face to face. She knew Johnny well enough to know that he’d be leaving town again soon, and she also knew that he could be gone for several years once he left. She didn’t want years to pass between them without talking about what had happened between them.

  She walked into the dark bar. Smoking in restaurants and bars had been long outlawed in Colorado, but this particular tavern still smelled of old stale smoke and even older, staler beer. Several of the light fixtures were in disrepair, so it was gloomy inside, but the old stage up against the back wall was well lit. She knew that’s where Johnny would be. There weren’t many people inside the bar right now. As she walked toward the little stage, she saw Johnny’s back, a guitar strap breaking up the smooth line on a diagonal. He faced three other men—one at a drum kit, one holding a bass guitar, and the other at the microphone. Even as she got closer, she couldn’t hear what he said, but his posture was straight and confident. She hoped his search for new band members was going as well as he’d wanted.

  She sat at a table in front of the stage and when a cocktail waitress came around to ask for an order, she felt obliged to buy a drink. She asked for a beer and waited patiently. Johnny started strumming a few chords while telling the other guys something, and the bass player started playing a matching chord. The waitress delivered the beer to Katie, and Katie paid her and tipped her well. The band played a few notes and Katie thought she might recognize the tune as one of Johnny’s old songs, but she couldn’t be sure. Meanwhile, a knot tightened and twisted in her stomach. She felt a little relieved after talking with Grant a few days ago, but she wouldn’t feel one hundred percent until after talking to her friend. He turned around finally and saw her. She couldn’t quite make out his expression, but he wasn’t necessarily glad to see her.

  He finished playing the riff he’d been in the middle of and then faced the other three guys again. “Let’s take five, okay? Or you guys can keep playing if you want, but I need a few minutes.” He looked at Katie. “I have some other business to attend to for a little bit.”

  Katie looked down at the open mouth of the brown beer bottle she was holding. She hadn’t even sipped it. Johnny jumped down off the stage to right in front of the table. “What’s going on?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you for a little bit. If now’s a bad time—”

  Johnny shook his head. “No. I guess this’ll be fine. I only have a few minutes.” Katie nodded. “Let’s go outside.” Katie followed Johnny, walking quickly to keep up with his pace. Once outside, away from the door, Johnny said, “So?”

  Katie sighed. He wasn’t going to make this easy. But she had to do it. She forced herself to look up into his steely eyes. “Look, Johnny, I just wanted to apologize for the other night. You were right. I should have told you what was going on in my life. It wasn’t fair to you or Grant that I kept any of that a secret.”

  “It wasn’t just unfair, Katie. It was like lying.”

  She screwed up the right side of her lip. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. But I want you to know I never meant to hurt you.” She heard her voice wavering and fought to keep it steady. “I want to know that we’re still friends.”

  Johnny shrugged but said nothing. Katie felt that she had to keep going, had to say everything that had been on her mind for so long. “You made me realize something, Johnny. I didn’t realize how miserable I was with my life until you came back in it. I had settled down, really settled for a boring, unsatisfying life, but you made me see that I wasn’t happy. So the good news is that I am making some changes, big changes, in my life. I’m too young to be saddled to a job I hate, in a house I’m not happy with, in a life that makes me sad. So...thank you for helping me see that.”

  Johnny’s eyes seemed to soften. After a few moments, he said, “Good for you. You should do what makes you happy.”

  The knot in her stomach moved up and wound itself around her heart. “Johnny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are we okay? I know I’ve betrayed you, but can you ever forgive me? I just want to know we’re going to be okay.”

  Johnny’s jaw was clamped tight. At last, he opened his mouth and said quietly, “Yes, Katie, we’re still friends. But I need time. And space. I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I have work to get back to.” She nodded, her eyes drifting down to look at the Harley-Davidson logo on his t-shirt. He didn’t say anything until she forced herself to look at him again. “So, are we done?”

  That hurt. Katie couldn’t keep looking in his eyes, and they dropped back to his chest. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  And, with that, he went back in the bar as fresh tears streaked her cheeks. She found solace in the fact that Johnny said their friendship was still there even though he needed time away from her. She’d be sure to give him that.

  Part II

  Chapter Ten

  KATIE SAT AT the table in the creative writing lab, letting her pencil draw swirls on the notebook paper in front of her. She hadn’t had a student sit at the table in over an hour, and she was biding her time until she could leave. She considered drafting a poem for her poetry workshop class, but she knew that a student was sure to show up if she started. So she continued to doodle.

  While her pencil moved, her mind wandered too. She was giving serious thought to Daniel, the history professor who’d been asking her to go on a date for several months. She hadn’t told him “no” outright, and so he kept asking.

  She’d met him this morning at the college coffee cart, and they’d sat at a table to talk for a few minutes. They’d first met back in September at that very same place. He’d asked her what she taught. She’d laughed at his mistake and explained that she was a new graduate student in Creative Writing. As an apology, he bought her coffee and they sat and chatted. He was tall with broad shoulders and dirty blonde hair and at least five years older than Katie. But he wasn’t bad looking and was charming, with his quick smile and gentle voice. Before they parted ways that day, he’d asked Katie for her phone number. Katie gave it to him but also warned him that she was, for the time, not ready to date. He said, “No pressure,” and the two of them continued to meet for coffee once a week. During the spring semester, they were still able to meet on Wednesday mornings; they just met a little later in the morning than they had in the fall.

  This morning, Daniel had asked again. He’d said, “Look, Kate, I understand how past relationships can damage.” He laughed. “Why do you think I’m almost forty and have never been married?” She lowered her eyes, first to the table and then to
the ring finger he was tapping on with his right index finger. She was ready to utter yet another apology when he said, “Man, what did the last guy do to you?” No way could she tell him it hadn’t been the guy’s fault. Correction: guys. It had been Katie, all Katie. She’d hurt the man who’d proposed to her, who’d professed to her that he imagined the two of them growing old together, walking the beach hand in hand with snow-colored hair, all the more striking juxtaposed against their deep tans, an image that had always made her smile. But she’d also hurt the man who’d been her oldest, most trusted friend, one who had known her as a child, who had shared the journey into adulthood with her, a person who’d never judged her, had simply loved her, the man that she had loved since she was still a girl.

  Maybe, though, it was time to stop dragging that luggage around. In the silence of the writing lab, Katie began to give Daniel more serious thought. He was an intelligent man, one whom she found interesting. He was considerate and thoughtful. What could it hurt to at least give it a try? If it didn’t work, no big deal. Her heart couldn’t hurt worse than it had in the past, could it, especially if they proceeded with caution?

  Finally, the clock moved its hands to announce that it was five minutes to two, and Katie figured that was good enough. She was tired of pondering her thoughts. Her fellowship this semester required that she teach two undergrad creative writing classes and staff the creative writing lab three days a week. For some reason, Wednesday afternoons seemed to always be the slowest (which was why the lab closed at two instead of four on Wednesdays), and she doubted her advisor would give her grief for leaving a few minutes early. She looked around the room, from the mural painted by one of the art students several years ago of famous American creative writers covering one entire wall (Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allen Poe, Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, Ernest Hemingway, Toni Morrison, and even Stephen King among dozens of others stared down at the rough drafts of creative writing students in the lab—talk about pressure) to the warm brown couches and the more practical padded office-type chairs surrounding the hulking oak table in the center. Then she finally shut the lights off and closed the door, inserting the key on her chain.