High Achiever Read online

  I paused for a moment, taking in the look on his face. Anticipation, excitement…hope.

  I took a deep, intentional breath in and looked deep into his eyes.

  “Eliot…I got high today.”

  29

  “Wait a minute,” Dr. Peters said. “So…you told him?”

  “Yeah. In hindsight, telling him I had relapsed in the middle of a party he had thrown for me probably wasn’t the best idea.”

  “Well? How did he take it?” she asked.

  Before I could respond, a knock at the door made us both jump. The door creaked open about an inch and a woman with long dark hair and leathery skin poked her head in.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt. Sylvia sent me to check and see how much longer you were going to be. Her shift is over, but Miss Johnson still needs to have her belongings checked, as well as a drug screen,” she said.

  “We are finished. Just one more moment please, Joanie.” Dr. Peters smiled.

  “Okay, I’ll let her know,” the woman said as she quietly shut the door.

  “Okay, so that’s going to have to be it for today, but Tiffany. I have so many questions I’d like to ask. So, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to meet with you tomorrow once you get unpacked and settled in. Once we finish our meeting I will be able to set up a program that I feel works best for your recovery, sound good?” she asked, sticking out her hand to shake mine.

  “Yes, that sounds great. So, um, where do I go now?” I asked, shaking her hand.

  “Here, I’ll walk you down to Sylvia’s office. She is very nice. She handles all of our intakes as well as providing transportation to the girls. She is in recovery as well and she will be able to answer any questions you have.”

  I followed Dr. Peters through the dimly lit hallway toward a door at the end. Apart from the light beaming from underneath the crack in the door, the rest of the place was dark and quiet. Dr. Peters pulled the door open and gestured for me to enter.

  “Okay, Tiffany,” she said from behind me as I walked in, “Sylvia will take it from here, have a great night!” I waved goodbye as the door closed and smiled nervously at the woman behind the desk.

  “Sit,” she said, staring down at her cellphone. I assumed she meant on the bright pink couch against the wall, because there were literally no other chairs in the room. I lowered myself down on the couch and noticed that my brown paper bag from jail was sitting in the corner of the room; it was crumpled and empty. My papers and journals were scattered across the floor as if someone had dumped the bag upside down and shaken it.

  I could feel the anger growing in me as I looked at my postcards and letters that meant so much to me, wrinkled and scattered like garbage.

  “I’ve already gone through your items, I couldn’t wait any longer,” Sylvia said abruptly.

  “I see,” I said, staring down at the floor.

  “I didn’t find any contraband; however, I did find a few items of concern.”

  “Okay. Like?”

  “Who is Jessie?”

  “Um. What?”

  “Jessie. Is she your girlfriend? Aside from the fact that homosexuality is a sin in God’s eyes, we would prefer to be aware if any of our clients are currently in relationships,” she said, staring at me through squinted eyes.

  I took a deep breath, attempting to maintain my cool. I was on the verge of snapping loose and I really needed things to get off on the right foot. If I fucked it up here, I was going back to jail, and going back to jail would be a violation of my probation, which meant my suspended sentence of fifteen-plus years would immediately go into effect.

  “She is not my girlfriend, no. She was a girl that I was…we were talking, in jail. It was nothing. I was bored and she just helped pass the time, I guess. I’m not gay.”

  Sylvia stared at me for a moment and then rifled through some papers on her desk.

  She cleared her throat and began reading aloud: “Baby, I love you so much. I can’t wait until we get out of here and can begin our life together. If so, I live right around the corner and can come visit.” She set the paper down and looked at me, as if she’d just cracked the Da Vinci code. She was acting like she had caught me in a lie, and to be honest, it was getting on my nerves.

  “She wrote that a while ago. A lot has happened since then and we haven’t talked in forever. Listen, I’m not gay, but I am friggin’ exhausted. You can keep the letters and examine them later or fingerprint them or whatever. I really just want to sleep.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then stood up. “Okay, I’m gonna hang on to these”—I bet you are—“and we will talk more about Jessie tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, standing up.

  “Okay, I need you to lift your shirt and grab underneath the wires of your bra, pulling them out and toward me please. I just need to make sure you don’t have anything illegal on your person before I take you to your room.”

  I pulled my shirt up and exposed my breasts to her. I wasn’t wearing a bra when I was arrested. And I just wanted to get this shit over with.

  “Whoa. Oh. Okay. You could have just told me you weren’t, um, wearing one. Jesus. Empty your pockets, please.”

  “I don’t have pockets. These are pajamas. Obviously.”

  “Very well, I’ll show you to your room.”

  I followed her through the building as she rattled off the rules of this place. She said something about going to a morning meeting but to be honest, I wasn’t comprehending a word she’d said. I could hardly keep my eyes open and the sheep in my mind had already begun jumping over the fence.

  “Any questions?” she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

  “Nope, I think I got it.” I smiled, having no clue.

  “Great, here you go,” she said, quietly opening the door. It was dark, but the lights of several alarm clocks illuminated the room. I followed her closely as she tiptoed through the darkness and realized there were four beds on the floor. No box springs, no frames, just mattresses on the floor.

  Although it seemed a bit unprofessional, I was in no position to complain. I’d been sleeping on a plastic mat with a pillow that was about as comfortable as a piece of cardboard for half a year. This was the fucking Ritz Carlton to me.

  She pointed to the bed in the corner and gave me a thumbs-up. I silently thanked her and watched her leave the room. I remember the other woman saying Sylvia’s shift was over and wondered who the hell was watching us if she was leaving. Then I wondered who the hell “us” was.

  I was going to bed in a dark room and waking up to a house full of strangers. I’d had some pretty awkward mornings in my time, but I had a feeling that this one would take the cake.

  I lay down in the same pajamas I’d been arrested in back in November. I was wearing these the last time I’d slept in a bed. This whole thing was so surreal.

  My head hit the soft feathery pillow, and tears of gratitude began running down my face. The soft mattress felt as if I were lying on a cloud, and I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy.

  “I am lying in an actual bed,” I repeated over and over to myself, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was no longer an inmate.

  As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to make out the structure of the room I was in, and judging by the snoring, I ascertained that there were at least two other women in the room with me. The room smelled like a mixture of paint and shampoo. I assumed that it must have recently been renovated, which would explain the smell and the mattresses on the floor.

  I closed my eyes and began silently praying to God. I thanked Him for saving me from the dungeon I’d been living in and leading me to this new chapter of my life. Before I could finish my prayer, I drifted off to a peaceful sleep—the first in a very long time.

  I wasn’t sure what had woken me up, perhaps a noi
se? My eyes shot open and I glanced over at the alarm clock a few beds down. 3:33 a.m. I closed my eyes again and heard another noise; it was coming from the corner of the bedroom. It sounded like someone was whispering.

  My gut instinct was to hide under the sheets because honestly, it was creeping me the fuck out. The whispering was hurried and agitated, as if someone were yelling at someone under their breath. Was someone on a phone?

  I listened intently for a moment and the whispering suddenly stopped. Had I imagined it? I closed my eyes, attempting to fall back asleep and pretend I’d never heard the voices, and then suddenly I had the overwhelming urge to pee. I tried to ignore it, but it was as if my bladder were at maximum capacity, and there was no way I’d be able to fall asleep without going to the bathroom.

  I didn’t even know where the hell the bathroom was. Fuck me. I rolled off my mattress and stood up next to my bed. I began tiptoeing through the room as the wood creaked beneath my feet.

  “Looking for the bathroom?” a voice said in the darkness, stopping me dead in my tracks.

  “Yes,” I whispered to the stranger.

  “It’s the other way, that corner,” the woman said sleepily, pointing to the corner in which I’d heard the whispering. Awesome, I get to go by the scary ghost voice.

  I could see light coming from underneath a door around the corner and I felt my way across the wall until my hand reached the knob. My heart was pounding as I silently turned it. I pulled it open quietly, not wanting to disturb the person whose bed was directly outside the door, and I silently slipped inside.

  The light had been coming from a closet in the bathroom, and it illuminated the bathroom enough that I could see two stalls to my left. I breathed a sigh of relief and noted this would be the first time I took a piss behind closed doors in 121 days.

  Before I could pull the door of the stall open, I heard a voice from inside.

  “Did you get it?” The voice was female, and she was whispering.

  “No, dude, can you help me?” another voice said from the next stall over.

  “Yeah, gimme one sec.”

  Suddenly the stall flew open and I stared in horror, looking down at the redheaded girl on the toilet seat in front of me. She looked up at me and gasped when she realized I wasn’t her friend. “What?” the girl said from the other stall, but the redhead didn’t respond, she was staring at me in shock.

  She knew there was nothing she could do or say. It was too late.

  I’d already seen the belt tied tightly around her biceps, and the loaded syringe jutting out of her arm.

  30

  In the span of only three seconds, a lifetime of thoughts crossed my mind.

  This was a rehab, correct? So why in God’s name is my drug of choice being administered two feet away from me? My heart was beating against my rib cage and a tornado of jealousy was spinning in my gut.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the girl asked, a hint of panic in her voice. The other stall fell silent; the other girl must have realized that they were no longer alone in the bathroom.

  “Um, okay—so hi, I’m Tiffany. This is my first night here at Horizons, and I was under the impression that this was a residential treatment program. Judging by the mattresses on the floor and the fact that you are shooting up in the bathroom, I’m suddenly not so sure.”

  The redhead pushed the door open and marched straight toward me. I thought perhaps I was about to be murdered for witnessing her crime; however, she made a sharp left and knocked on the door of the other stall.

  “Lexi, I need you out here. I’m not dealing with this shit alone,” she said, peering over at me angrily.

  “Listen, I just need to piss, okay? I don’t really care about what the hell you guys are doing,” I said, but it was a lie. I cared very much, actually; I was pretty pissed that I wasn’t invited to this fun party. I wanted them to share. I needed them to share.

  I had seen the shit loaded into the barrel of her syringe and now it was all I could think about. The other girl—who looked like she just stepped out of the Motel 8 after a night of partying—emerged from the stall.

  “Here is how this is gonna go down,” she said, trying to sound tough. “You are going to keep your mouth fucking shut, or we are going to whoop your ass in your sleep. I’m serious.” The nightwalker glanced nervously at her redheaded friend for confirmation, and I noticed the redhead sporting her best “we mean business” face.

  The laughter escaped from my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. They were trying to intimidate me, but after spending years dealing with the seediest people and months in jail, these little Spice Girls didn’t faze me.

  “Okay,” I began, “Lexi, is it? And what’s your name?” I said, looking at the redhead.

  “None of your business.” She crossed her arms in defiance.

  “Fair enough. Lexi, None of Your Business, I’d like to start off by saying you don’t scare me, okay? Let’s get that out of the way immediately. Second, while I feel like perhaps this may be a trick, or a setup to test my willingness to stay clean, I’d like to state that currently I have no willingness, and I’d like to get high. Lastly, if you don’t give me some of that shit immediately, I will march straight to the boss’s office, you will get kicked out, and I’ll carry on with my life not thinking twice about either of you. Your choice.”

  I casually leaned back against the sink, feeling pretty confident that the ball was suddenly in my court, and awaited their reply. I had them stuck between a rock and a hard place, and they had no choice but to share. I was moments away from feeling the glorious sensation of liquid relaxation coursing through my veins.

  “We don’t have any left.”

  “Liars.”

  “I swear.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. I have no choice but to report—”

  “Okay, stop! Fine…Jesus. I have a half a pill. I need it for tomorrow, though. I can probably get my boyfriend to bring us more, but you would need to call him,” Lexi said.

  “Huh? I have to call him? Hell no, I just got here, I don’t have a phone.”

  “They let you make a phone call to your family to get your stuff. You can just call my boyfriend instead, he has the number to the office saved in his phone, so he will know what it’s about. Tell him we need some. He will meet us at the meeting tomorrow and slip it to us.”

  I knew I wasn’t going to do it. But I needed the drugs, now. So I agreed.

  “If you fuck me over, new girl, I swear—”

  “I won’t, damn it, just give me the shit. Once I do some it will be in my system and then you will know I’m not ratting you out. I’d fail a test too. So pass it, damn it.”

  She was angry, I could see it in her eyes. I didn’t blame her; I’d be pissed too if I were forced to give away the last of my drugs. But I didn’t give a damn; I was getting high. God put me in that bathroom at the perfect time, and I was eternally grateful.

  She closed the stall behind and her and began preparing the rig for me.

  “I know what it looks like when it’s right, don’t try and fuck me over by not putting the whole half in there,” I whispered through the crack.

  “Dude, shut the fuck up, I won’t,” she whispered angrily.

  When she opened the door, I saw the syringe sitting on top of the tank on the back of the toilet. My heart was exploding inside my chest and I couldn’t wait to feel high again. It had been so fucking long.

  I would just do it tonight, just this once…to get the urge out of my system. Then I would start fresh with my rehab journey tomorrow. A little bit probably wouldn’t do anything to me anyway and technically I hadn’t started rehab yet. It was fine.

  I entered the stall, shut the door behind me, and grabbed the syringe.

  * * *

  —

  The next morning, Dr. Peters placed her br
iefcase next to her chair and sat down across from me.

  “Good morning, Tiffany. I was thinking about your story last night. If I can be honest with you for a moment, I was anxious to get back here today and hear more.”

  I felt uncomfortable. Nervous. I was afraid to speak to her after what happened last night.

  Before I could reply, she abruptly rose from her seat and made her way over to the couch I was sitting on. She sat down next to me and looked into my eyes; her face had fallen into a serious expression.

  “Tiffany…I know what you did last night,” she said.

  My heart sank. I placed my head into my hands and began to weep. I felt so embarrassed and guilty about what I had done, and now everyone knew.

  “Look at me,” she said, placing her hand on my back. “Tiffany, look at me.”

  I slowly raised my eyes to meet hers and swallowed the knot that had formed in my throat. My rib cage began convulsing as I began sobbing. I couldn’t breathe.

  “Shhhhh,” she whispered, trying to comfort me. “Tiffany…what you did takes a tremendous amount of courage. To come face-to-face with your drug of choice on the first night—and then have the strength to not only walk away from it, but to immediately tell the counselors so they could get those girls and their drugs out of this place—was heroic.”

  I shook my head.

  “It wasn’t fucking heroic. I’m a snitch. It’s my first morning here and everybody already hates me. I feel so stupid.” I sobbed.

  “Listen to me, I need you to hear what I’m saying. You just saved a life, whether you realize it or not, you did. Maybe yours, maybe theirs, maybe the other girls in this house—or maybe the girl on the street, desperate to find a safe place to get clean. The one who couldn’t get into this program because it was already full. You just freed up two beds for someone who really needs them, someone willing to do whatever it takes to get clean. You don’t know it today, but one day down the road it will become very clear how the choice you made last night rippled out into the universe and changed everything. I am so proud of you.”