//18// Doomed From The Start

The smell of coffee percolating roused me slowly from sleep; I yawned and stretched, rolling over in bed to find the drapes had been drawn, letting sun pour through the large Eastern-facing window. The TV was playing in the living room; from what sounds I could hear, I placed it as something on the Disney channel and shot straight up, remembering Shepherd and Junia had spent the night, wondering how I had slept so late—and so well.

Soft laughter filled my ears as I stepped into the hall, and the jumbled events of the previous evening began to fall back into place. I should have been filled with trepidation as I padded down the hall, but I found lightness in my step and my heart. I couldn’t contain myself any longer, and as the back of the couch came into view from the hallway, I scurried into the open living room. Shepard and Junia were seated on the floor in front of the television, activity books and crayons spread on the floor before them.

Ryland was curled on the couch in one of my old hooded sweatshirts, her fingers curled delicately around the largest coffee mug I owned. Her eyes caught mine over the rim of the mug as she took a sip, a smile replacing the mug on her lips. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!”

“Daddy!” Junia popped up from the floor as soon as Ryland acknowledged my presence aloud, her tiny legs bringing her full-speed toward me. I bent down and scooped her up into my arms, burying my nose in the softness of her baby-fine hair. “Daddy sleep good?” she asked, running her small fingers through my hair.

“Yeah; Daddy slept great, baby,” I replied. With a soft squeeze, I set her back down, urging her to continue with her activity book. I sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Ryland, ruffling Shepard’s hair as I passed him. Out of context, we looked like any young family first thing in the morning. Ryland just smiled at me again before she got up and went to refill her coffee mug. “Mmm…bring me back one too, please!” I called after her.

As I waited for my coffee, I just watched the kids coloring. Shepard’s tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. His brow furrowed and he stopped, staring intently at his activity book. A moment later, he picked up the book and brought it to me. “Dad. Is that really how a vossa-rapper looked?”

I chuckled at his gross mispronunciation of “Velociraptor”, reviewing the picture he had perfectly colored, and nodded. “It sure is, buddy.”

“Vossa-rappers were mean, weren’t they, Dad?”

“Well, they were carnivores—that means they ate meat. And to get meat, they had to hurt other dinosaurs and other animals. But they weren’t mean—they were just trying to get food.”

“So…we’re kinda like vossa-raptors, then?” Shepard asked, his voice turning concerned in only the way a 5-year-old’s could.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. We eat meat, so that means we have to hurt other animals to get food.” Suddenly, Shepard’s eyes went wide. “Dad, do we hurt other people for food?!”

“Only if we want to go to jail!”

“Zac!” Ryland’s voice cut through the room, scolding me. “What are you telling this child?!”

A mischievous smile spread across my lips and I winked at her. When her face fell into a serious glare, I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Oh, calm yourself, woman,” I took my coffee from her hands, sipping the bitter liquid with a sigh of relief. “He was just asking me about dinosaurs.”

“Well, don’t allude to cannibalism, ok? Aside from it being illegal and wrong, it’s gross.”

“Tell that to Hannibal Lector,” I smiled wider, lowering my voice. “It puts the lotion on its skin.”

Ryland let out a loud shriek, a visible shudder shaking her shoulders. “STOP! That movie totally creeped me out, dude.” Despite her angry protests, Ryland was smiling, her eyes sparkling as she laughed at me. I could only stare as she continued to drink her coffee, her eyes watching Mickey Mouse and his friends traipse back and forth across the television screen. The sun was coming in through the window behind her, illuminating her in a soft halo. Her eyes flicked back to me a few minutes later, a confused look crossing her face. “What? Why are you just staring at me?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” the words left my lips easily and without much thought. It occurred to me in that moment that if this was all I ever had for the rest of my life, I would die happy. The way Ryland’s nose crinkled when she received a compliment, and the perfect white of her straight teeth. My heart was pounding in my chest as I watched her face light up as Junia carried a paper full of scribbles over to her. Everything around me was at peace; maybe right here, with Ryland and the kids, maybe this was my redemption. Things with Kate were irreparable from the start, but maybe with Ryland I could get a second chance.

Kate.

I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to her; the way she had been making efforts recently to at the very least be civil. I still wasn’t sure if her motives were to get our family back together, or simply to convince everyone around us that she was the better parent, and the bigger person. I would be lying if I said I was either of those things at this point, and I wasn’t certain when I could be, so it wasn’t as if she needed to try hard to accomplish it. Just as I was thinking going back to bed and not ever waking up seemed like a good idea, there was a knock on the front door; knowing it could only be Kate, I got up, fearing what she may say or do if I took too long to answer.

She had her phone pressed to her ear as I pulled the door open, chattering in a whisper to whoever was on the other end. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she hung up the phone and turned toward me, straightening herself to her full height. In the heels she was wearing, it made her stand an inch or two taller than I, which made it appear as though she were looking down her nose at me more so than usual, despite the easy smile on her lips.

“Hi!” She exclaimed, rushing passed me into the apartment. “I know I’m early, but I was out running some errands and I figured I might as well stop in and pick up the kids…” her voice trailed off as she saw Ryland perched on the couch. The smile faded from her lips, and I could see the wheels turning in her head; it wouldn’t have been hard for her to put together the pieces. She cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders. “Ryland. I didn’t realize you were having pajama parties with my husband.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “It’s not like that, Kate. Ryland came back last night to help me with the kids, and she fell asleep on the couch.”

Kate shifted her eyes from Ryland, to me, then back, her expression showing she believed me, if only barely. She cleared her throat, visibly shaken but also collecting herself–she was always the one with composure. “I am running some errands, and thought I would come pick the kids up while I was out so you didn’t have to worry about dropping them off later,” she said after a long silence.

“Oh. I can bring them home later,” I replied, hopeful she would allow me to spend the entire day with them.

“Well, I have to get Shepherd’s costume for his play finished and I need him to do it, so. I’ll just take them now.” Her voice was sharp, and I could do nothing but nod in defeat.

I moved around the apartment, gathering the kid’s things together before pulling each of them into a tight hug. “I love you guys,” I said, kissing each of my babies on their forehead. “I will see you soon, OK?”

“See ya, Dad!” Shepherd called, tearing out of the apartment and down the hall. Kate called after him as I handed Junia to her. Junia started crying, her little arms reaching out for me over Kate’s shoulder as Kate slung her bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll call you in a few days and we can talk about…things.” Kate said before chasing after Shepherd.

After they had disappeared in the elevator, I slammed the door shut and stomped off toward my bedroom.

**

I’d like to say that when things got overwhelming, my brain shut off and my body acted as if controlled by a skilled puppeteer, or that when I got upset I fugued out and didn’t remember a thing. That’s how all the movies, TV shows, and pamphlets at the doctor’s office make addiction sound. In reality, it’s much simpler than that: I prefer how I feel high to how I feel sober. There is no internal struggle, no guilt or regret.

So when Ryland found me standing in the bathroom, staring at the last three pills from my Adderall prescription, my brain didn’t know what emotions to process. What I felt was something I had never felt—at least, not about taking pills. I couldn’t even articulate my thought process, but when it finally hit, there was no mistaking the feeling.

I hated those pills in my hand.

Without a word, Ryland took the small, round pills from my palm and flushed them down the toilet. I could only watch silently as she did so, my mind still. I had an urge to stop her—to snatch the pills away and swallow them all at once—but it was fleeting. I guess that was the thing that confused me about the news stories and textbook descriptions of addiction.

Everyone always said you were a slave to your addiction; you feel like you need to have it. I didn’t feel that way at all. I wanted to feel like that, but I never did feel as though I would die if I didn’t get any. Sure, the worst comedowns off the coke made me want more, but if I smoked a bowl, or had a beer, I was fine until it passed.

I knew I had a problem, but only because everyone else said I did. It didn’t feel like a problem to me; I had it all under control. I wasn’t consumed, I could still function, and weeks would pass when I wouldn’t even think about using. Then it would get bad—something like today would happen, where Kate was just Kate, or my brothers were my brothers—and I’d think “this would be much easier to deal with if I was stoned.” So, I’d smoke a bowl, take a pill, or have a bump.

For a while, it worked like a charm. I’d be fine after a joint and an hour, or a bump and a run. Lately, it has been harder and harder to regain my stability after a few hours. I started to feel like I wanted more, for just a little longer away from reality. I was convinced it was because my life was so out of control, and was getting worse by the minute, but I guess that is where the addiction part comes into play.

Ryland was now walking out of the bathroom, dragging me behind her by my arm. She stopped when we reached the living room, searching for something. When she found what she was looking for, I stared shamelessly at her ass while she bent over, digging in her purse. “Aha!” she announced a few seconds later, turning back around to face me again, a huge smile on her lips. The smile got wider at what my confused, furrowed brow. A small giggle escaped through her smile and held her hand up, opening her palm.
A plastic baggie tumbled out, dangling from between her fingers, three decent-sized nuggets of weed resting inside. I took the bag from her, inspecting its contents. The nuggets were a fluffy bright green I had only seen in Jamaica, and the dank smell permeated through the bag, even a foot from my face. Even still, I opened the baggie and lifted it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It reminded me of the first time I smoked, hanging out the window of our tour bus while our parents slept.

“Is this really a good idea?” I asked with a laugh.

“What? The last time I check, marijuana was not classified as a narcotic,” she pointed out. “It’s harmless, and after that, you look like you could use a little fuck it in your system.”

I really didn’t need any convincing on her part; at this point I would have smoked the entire quarter ounce she had by myself. I decided it would be impolite to smoke all of her pot myself, and offered her my pipe to fill. She shook her head, motioning to the Honey Dutch cigar wrap she held in her hand, the tobacco contents sitting in a neat pile on my coffee table. I watched as she broke apart the weed and wrap it up, then light it with a deep pull. She took a few hits, and then extended it to me. I accepted the blunt greedily, taking three deep hits before handing it back and letting myself drift off on the high I felt almost instantly.

After a few more hits, my mind finally shut off.

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