Chapter Fifteen
Trethan
The next week and half dragged on and on. I still got everything done around the ranch, but I could tell from the sidelong, considering looks John gave me, I wasn’t able to hide how distracted and impatient I was.
He finally asked me about it the evening before the Fourth, right when my nervousness and frustration coalesced into a massive case of jitters that I tried my best to ignore.
I poked my head into his office and gave a quick wave. “Just wanted to let you know I’m headed off for the day. All the horses should be set for the night. Didn’t quite finish making up the stalls for the weekend boarders, but I’ll get that done in the morning, well before they arrive.”
“Good, good. Thanks for everything, Trethan.”
“No problem, sir,” I said, tapping my hat and preparing to retreat. Before I could though, John stopped me.
“Trethan, just a second. I can’t help but notice you’ve been a bit distracted lately.”
I came into the office and shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“I’m not chastising you,” he said, shaking his head. “I just wanted to check in and make sure everything’s okay. I know I’ve had you running around here like crazy these days, now that we’re in the full swing of summer, but if it’s too much, I’m sure I could get Vanessa down here to help out.”
I shook my head. “She’s focused on finding funding for her gallery, isn’t she?” I asked, angling for any news of how she was doing with that. I’d been true to my word, and I’d been avoiding her lately.
John looked at me mildly and said, “I’m sure she could spare a couple hours a day to come down here and help out her old man.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’m sure she could, sir. But that’s not it, anyway. Seriously, I’m doing fine. I like being busy. You know that. Gives me less time to think.”
“Is it money, then?” he pressed. “You know I’d pay you more if I could. I know I don’t pay as much as some of the other ranches in the area, but we’re a small family ranch and-”
“No sir, it’s not the money,” I interrupted quickly, my face flushing. “Seriously, John, don’t worry about it. There’s nothing wrong. I’m just a bit distracted.” When he still didn’t look convinced, I tried to think up some excuse. “It’s been too long since I got laid,” I blurted out.
John blinked and then chuckled. “All right, I’m going to stop you there, before I hear all the details of your no doubt interesting sexual encounters.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “But you know you could come to me if there was anything wrong.”
“And, I promise you I would,” I told him. “But I also promise you that there’s nothing wrong.”
“Good,” he said, his face clearing. That change in expression showed me just how concerned he’d been about me. “Well, get out of here, then.” John flapped a hand in my direction. “I’ve got some paperwork that needs filling out before I can call it a night.”
I nodded and tapped my hat again. Then, I retreated. I felt kind of bad. I had a feeling I should’ve given him a heads up that I was taking his daughter out on a date the following day. I told myself I withheld that information because the picnic was nothing serious, but I knew something deeper kept me from mentioning it.
The truth was, I didn’t know how John would react to the fact that Vanessa and I were dating again. Every father wants the best for his daughter. He wants for her to be happy, to have every opportunity in the world, and to have some sense of security for the future.
But John had seen me at my very worst. He had seen the long road I had taken toward recovery, but he also knew how easy it would be for me to slip back into my old ways.
The man worried about me. Just being distracted this last week was enough to get his attention. He still felt like he needed to be that concerned for me over something so minor. But I supposed for all John knew, I could have been back on drugs and I might have been just as agitated.
If John told me that I couldn’t date Vanessa, I would have to abide by his word; the man had done so much for me. By not telling him, I hadn’t given him the chance to tell me I couldn’t see her.
I was just finishing dinner back at my apartment when Brent stopped by. He didn’t pound on the door like he’d been doing lately, but he didn’t look sober when I answered the door.
I frowned at him. “You need a place to crash again?”
“Nah, man,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all good this time. I just came to drag you out. You’ve been a fucking hermit lately!”
I sighed. “I’m not really interested in going out tonight,” I said. It was true, too. I’d gone by the Roasted Bison a few times since the night I’d run into Vanessa there, but I just wasn’t having a good time at the place. It felt like I was just going through the motions, putting on an act. Even riding the bull hadn’t given me the thrill it had been giving me, despite the fact that I was getting increasingly good at it.
Brent groaned. “You’re fucking lame lately, dude. You’ve been a shit wingman for weeks now, and I need to get laid.”
“Surely you can get laid without me,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes at his drama.
“I can’t believe you,” he said, sounding disgusted. “You know girls travel in packs! You can’t just go up to them by yourself and start hitting on one of them because all their friends are there. Someone needs to distract the friends so that you can swoop in and bam! Nail that target.” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless, what, you’ve decided you hate pussy? It’s been, like, a month since you pulled. Where are your balls, man?”
At that, I did roll my eyes. “I’m just not feeling it at the moment,” I told him. I watched Brent closely, though. I’d seen him crossfaded a number of times before, but he wasn’t acting like he normally did. Normally, he got more and more chilled out; but right now, he was agitated and flushed, and his words seemed a bit slurred.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked. “Do you want to come inside? Maybe have a glass of water?”
Brent snorted. “Psh, no, I don’t want to come inside!” he said, reaching out and catching my arm, trying to physically drag me out of my apartment. I dug my heels in and waited calmly until he realized it was a losing battle. He probably would have won that match before I’d started working for John, but now, there was no contest.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. “You seem a little off.”
“You seem a little off,” Brent retorted. “It’s Vanessa, isn’t it? You’re trying to get into that tight little pussy, and she’s not letting you. Probably thinks she’s too good for you. Thinks she’s too good for this whole God-damned town. But she’s just another prissy, stuck-up bitch. She might have her fancy college degree, but she’s still going nowhere with her life. Needs a good hard fuck is what she needs.”
I had punched him before I even realized I was moving. He stumbled, clutching at his face, but I didn’t feel any sort of remorse. “You fucker. Don’t you dare talk about Vanessa that way,” I told him, emphasizing each word.
Brent lunged at me. Despite how far gone he was, he managed to land a couple blows on me. I dealt the same to him. He’d never been much of a fighter before, but it was clear he knew what he was doing. I had to wonder how many fights he’d been in lately, how frequently he’d been running into trouble at “work.”
We grappled, each trying to get the upper hand. I was stronger, but he was taller and had more reach. We were evenly matched. We spun around, and Brent lost his footing. He started to fall, but with the way we grappled, I ended up holding him up. His shirt ripped, and what I saw there made my blood run cold.
I released him and took a step back. Track marks dotted his arms. His skin was purple and bruised. My eyes found their way back to his. “You’re using,” I accused, the words like ash in my mouth.
“Fuck you,” he said, stepping forward and pushing me. “Fuck you. Like you even give a shit. You’re not even a friend anymore. You’re so stuck up your ass about this whole Vanessa thing. All you ever cared about is yourself.”
I grimaced. His words were like an icy knife to the heart. “You’re using.” I couldn’t do anything more than repeat the words, trying to make sense of it. I knew Brent was smoking, that he was drinking too much, that he was dealing. But using heroin was another thing entirely.
He looked like he wanted to fight some more, like he was going to shout at me, but then he collapsed, as though he were a marionette whose strings had been cut. And what’s more, he started weeping.
“Trethan, man, it’s so hard,” he said, his voice a ragged whisper. “You know I swore I was never going to do this. We all did when we got into dealing, but I’m hooked, man. I’ve tried so hard to get off it, so fucking hard, but I have no willpower, you know? I just can’t help myself. I want to stop. I know I need to stop. My mom would die if she knew. I’m just like my piece of shit dad. But I don’t know how to stop.”
I knelt down next to him, slowly reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder, worried that I would startle him. “It’s okay,” I said softly, not knowing what else to say. This wasn’t the kind of situation you learned how to handle in school, and it was worlds away from my own collapse. I’d been hospitalized, which made admitting my problem so much easier. It had put me into a sterile environment. This was different.
“It’s okay,” I said again, my voice firmer this time. “We’re going to get you help, okay? I still have all the pamphlets, all the information about ODing and everything else. We’re going to take you over to the clinic tomorrow. You’re going to stay here tonight, and we’re just going to chill out and play some video games, just like old times. And then tomorrow, I’m going to drive you over to the clinic, and we’re going to get you all checked in. They’re going to help you get clean again. Okay?”
Brent still wept. He brushed away every tear, defiantly trying to hide the fact that he was here, hitting rock bottom right in front of me. It broke my heart to see him this way.
My mind whirled. I didn’t know how I missed the signs. I should have noticed this sooner. I had experience with these sorts of things, didn’t I? Not that I’d ever done heroin, but I’d hit rock bottom before. I should have noticed what was going on with him.
Had I been so wrapped up in the thing with Vanessa that I’d totally ignored my best friend’s needs?
That question made me feel worse than anything else. It wasn’t the drinking and the fighting and all those ways in which I resembled my father. It wasn’t the fact that I had fucked things up with Vanessa, that I had taken what had been meant to be a special night and turned it into something that ended our relationship. It was the fact that I’d been so caught up in my own life that I hadn’t even noticed Brent was suffering. It was the fact that I’d blown him off time and time again when he must have been desperate for a friend.
I sat back on my heels and pressed my hands into my eyes, hard enough to send bright swirls of color skittering across the back of my eyelids. “We’re going to get you help,” I said again. This time, Brent nodded as though he believed it, as though I’d given him any reason to think he could trust me.
I climbed to my feet and offered Brent a hand up.