Cassidy
I did everything in my power to avoid Erik for the rest of the day after our incident in the craft closet. His touch had felt like velvet on my skin. My hips had thrust toward him in an instinctual urge to have him pull me closer. It had been a very long time since I had felt such physical attraction, and I certainly couldn’t remember a man coming straight out and telling me I was beautiful.
But it was all for nothing. I wasn’t going to let things go any further than they already had. I was happy he wasn’t angry with me and really proud that he was up and participating in programming again, but that was it. Nothing more.
Nothing about the moment was right, at least it wasn’t right for a treatment facility. I wasn’t even sure I liked the guy as a human being yet; he was really an ass at times. But there was no denying that the sexual chemistry between the two of us was off the charts. Simply having his hand on me literally made my knees go weak.
I could fantasize a little about him, no harm could come from that. But nothing more than fantasies would ever happen between us. I would make sure of that. Or at least, I would try my hardest. But as I left work and headed home, my mind was swirling with the idea of what kind of lover he was. I imagined his lips against mine and how that would make me feel. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
By the time I got home, all I could think about was Erik. I thought about his smile, the way he had called me beautiful, and I tried to analyze everything he said and did to see what it was he was trying to get from me.
That’s what addicts did: they used their charms to get what they wanted. I knew addicts well. I had been one, after all. I wanted to believe Erik was playing some sort of game with me, but I couldn’t come up with anything I could offer the man that would be reason enough for him to give me such a compliment.
I wasn’t in charge of anything at the treatment facility. In fact, I was lower on the totem pole than even the janitor was; at least the janitor had keys to every room. I had to get buzzed on and off the secured unit. To be honest, Erik probably had a better chance of getting what he wanted without even talking to me. He was paying cash for his stay, which was a valuable commodity in our industry.
Could it be possible that he actually thinks I am beautiful? I wondered. I didn’t see how a guy like him would even see beauty in a girl like me. I was rough around the edges, nothing polished or fake on me. My boobs were decent sized, but not fake and large like the women in California. I had a slim waist, but my ass was voluptuous, there was no denying it, and I couldn’t hide, especially because I loathed working out so much. I stood in front of my mirror and looked at myself. I wasn’t hideous, but I wasn’t a model, either. I suspected a guy like Erik was used to dating models and celebrities.
“Cassidy, dinner is ready,” my mother hollered from the stairs.
I liked living at home. I knew to some people it seemed like I had failed because I was back at home with my parents, but for me, it was right. I needed their love around me as I recovered and got myself back on track. I certainly hadn’t expected to stay at home for as long as I had, but until something better came up, I was perfectly happy right where I was.
My parents were good to me, and I couldn’t imagine that I would be leaving their house anytime soon. Probably not until I found a college to go to – if a college actually took me into one of their programs.
“There’s my girl,” my father said as I sat down at the table. “How was your work at that place today? Are you ready to throw in the towel and come work the slopes? Christmas season sure is a busy one this year.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you guys, I hiked up the ridge with some patients the other day. It was so beautiful up there. That path sure did look good, Dad. I know you worked really hard on it.”
“You hiked?” my mother asked.
The look on her face made it seem like I never did anything physical at all. Sure, I only liked to walk on the treadmill at the gym – and I hardly ever actually got to the gym. But I wasn’t disabled; I did have the ability to walk. She didn’t have to look at me like I had suddenly turned green or something.
“Yes, Mom. I actually moved my legs and walked,” I teased her.
“Thanks for telling me, honey. I wasn’t sure anyone was going to use the trail in the winter. But I decided to scoop the snow out of the way anyways, just in case.”
“It was perfect, Dad. The path was all clear and because we had a few warm days, even the residual snow had melted off the trail. It was a beautiful hike.”
“Are you going to turn into one of those fitness junkies who eat kale and works out all the time?” Mom asked.
“I don’t think so, but would that be all that horrible? At least I’d be healthy for a change.”
I knew my mother and father were just worried about me. I had spent so many years lying to them about where I was going and what I was doing that it was hard for them to transition into actually trusting me. I didn’t blame them, though. I had set up our relationship with a lack of trust and it was my responsibility to earn it back.
“So, what’s new at work, dear?” my mom asked as we ate.
“There’s a patient who I think I helped today,” I said.
“Well, that’s good. Tell me about it.”
I loved that my parents seemed genuinely interested in what I did with my day. My father certainly didn’t want me to keep working at the rehab facility, but even he could put on a supportive face while we had dinner together as a family.
Sometimes, it really baffled me as to why I had thought my life was so horrible when I started drinking and partying all the time. I could still remember telling friends that my parents were the equivalent to Nazi guards. The memory made me cringe as it passed through my head. My parents had only been worried about me and wanted the best for me. They had put a curfew on me if I was to stay in their home and I had called them Nazis. It wasn’t the proudest moment in my life, that was for sure.
“He wasn’t coming to groups or doing pretty much anything at all. I think he was depressed. But today I got him to come to
a group and he even made a collage for his mother who passed away. I think it was a lot of progress for him.”
“You are such a sweet girl, honey,” my mother said.