“I can’t fucking move,” I tell Kim, fear coursing through me.
“It’s going to be okay, Bodhi,” Kimberly says, offering a sweet smile. “We had to secure your arms and legs until the paranoia broke.”
I look at her with complete confusion, not having a clue as to what she’s talking about. Behind me I hear a constant beep, and I crank my head as far as I can to see where it’s coming from. The machine behind me is blinking with red numbers and lines.
“What’s wrong with me?” I twist and turn, trying to get a look at what’s going on around me, but my arms and legs are pinned down.
“Hey, Bodhi,” Kim says as I turn my head toward her. “Wow, has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty blue eyes?” Her question confuses me, but I respond in kind.
“You too,” I say, before adding, “We match.” I swallow hard and close my eyes at her soft touch along my forehead. I open my eyes and admit something to her that any man would rather die than utter: “Kimberly, I’m scared.”
She adjusts her position, moving closer to me. “I know, but Dr. Rosenberg is trying to help. While you were in her office, you had an episode. They’re common and sometimes they can be pretty scary where you check out of reality like you did today. Do you remember it?”
I nod. “There were ladybugs everywhere.”
“Ladybugs can be so pesky, can’t they?” She smiles, letting me know that what I was feeling is okay.
“Bodhi, I’m going to free your arms now, but you have to promise me that you’ll leave your IV in, okay?” Dr. Rosenberg says from behind me. I nod, unwilling to take my eyes off Kimberly. I can’t understand why she’s being so nice to me and don’t want to believe it’s because of who I am. She’s probably here because of some fangirl obsession and will be secretly blogging about my experience later. Thing is, I don’t care, because there’s something about her that makes me want her next to me for the next thirty days, regardless of whether she’s a fan or not.
As soon as my arms and legs are freed, I shift to my side and tuck my hand under my head to give myself a bit of comfort. Kimberly’s hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she has this look about her. I’m not sure what it is, but it seems to extend beyond her role as an employee dealing with a patient. Does she do this with everyone? Part of me hopes not. I’d like to think I’m special, that maybe she and I bonded or had a moment that I missed. The other part of me is being a realist: this is her job, she does this with everyone, and I shouldn’t feel special, because the next person who checks in will have her attention the same way.
I’ve been here for only a few hours and I’m already depressed about the thought of someone taking her time away from me. That shouldn’t be crossing my mind. My recovery should be at the forefront of my mind. But she’s different. She talks to me differently, like Brayden and Carson did when we met. They never gave a shit that my parents are famous, and it seems like Kimberly doesn’t care that I am. I don’t care that I just met her; deep in my gut I can feel that she’s genuine. That she fucking likes me for me.
“How long do I have to stay in here and be hooked up to the machine?”
Kimberly looks up, and I’m assuming it’s at Dr. Rosenberg. “You need to stay the night. Right now we’re making sure you’re hydrated, because more often than not you forget to take care of yourself when you’re using. You lose your appetite, which results in weight loss; you don’t care about your appearance, and personal hygiene becomes an issue. We’re going to help you. It’s a long process, one that you’ll have to practice after you leave here, but we’re going to make sure you have the necessary tools to live a healthy life.”
I notice that she never says “drugs,” “junkie,” or “addict” and that she avoids calling me a loser even though I know that I am. I shouldn’t have been so stupid, but
I’m fucking weak and liked how I felt when I was high. I could do anything until the high went away. Once the high was gone I felt like shit, so I snorted more. Part of me blames Aspen. She quickly went from being my friend to being my dealer and started controlling my life. Thinking about her now, while Kimberly is sitting at my bedside, makes my stomach roll, but my desire to get high is stronger. I bet licking a line of coke off Kimberly’s tits would be fucking glorious and give me the biggest hard-on.
I shouldn’t think about Kim like that. She’s too fucking pure and wholesome for a fuckup like me. If I want a chance with her, I’m going to have to straighten my shit out. She sees losers like me walk in and out of her life every single day. I have no doubt I’m the same as the last piece of shit to walk through the front doors. Someone as nice and sweet as she is needs to be romanced, to be wined and fucking dined at the best restaurants, and to have her body worshipped at the end of the night. I can’t do that for her, not yet, but I’m going to fucking try.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I ask, “What about my dad?”
“He came by, but we told him you were busy. Since you’re an adult, he doesn’t get to know anything about your treatment unless you want us to tell him. He did say he’d be back for family day next week.”
“But he came back to see me?” I ask, unsure if I’m hearing her correctly.
“Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?”
I shrug, playing it off. Kim doesn’t need to know that my dad and I don’t always see eye to eye or have the best relationship. I have no doubt my dad is freaking the fuck out, asking where he and my mother went wrong while they were raising me. Being home would’ve been nice, but that’s not for me to say. Growing up, he gave me everything, minus a fucking set of parents that were around. I guess what matters is that he was there when I needed him and he didn’t pussyfoot around the situation. He could’ve easily turned a blind eye and told me to take care of my problems. I am an adult, after all.
“You should sleep,” she says. “Your body needs to heal, and sleep will help.”
“Yeah, you probably have other patients to tend to. I’m sorry….” My words trail off because I’m not sure what I’m sorry for. Deep down I don’t care about anyone but myself, so if I’m keeping her from others, oh well.
“There is nothing to be sorry for, Bodhi.”
“I’m keeping you from your responsibilities.”
Kimberly runs her hand through my bug-encrusted hair, and I shiver at the thought even though deep in my brain I know my hair is clean. “You’re my responsibility.”
My heart beats a little faster, and her eyes move to the machine and then back to mine. Fuck me if she doesn’t bite her lip and shy away from me. Kim fucking likes me, and she knows that I’m digging her too.
I continue to stare at her, earning more points toward the title of Creepy Junkie Dude, and while I expect her to look away, she doesn’t. Kimberly doesn’t leave either. She sits in a chair next to my bed and talks to me. But it’s never about her life; it’s about recovery and how the world is a better place if you have a fresh mind and outlook. It’s the spiritual shit that starts to lull me to sleep. But each time my eyes close, I pop them back open, afraid she’s going to leave.
When sleep finally takes over I dream about her and me together, outside this room. She and I are walking hand in hand along the beach, with the waves washing over our bare feet. The wind blows her pale blond hair softly, framing her face perfectly. We search for seashells and splash in the water, stopping to pose for selfies with blue sky behind us. It’s paradise, and I want to be there.