Ecstasy

Alex

Zara wants to go home.

I don’t really want her to. I don’t know what she’ll get into by herself, but she makes it pretty clear she doesn’t want me to stay with her, and I guess we aren’t technically back together. I mean, she’s definitely mine, and I’m not fucking around with anyone else yet, but still. We’re technically broken up.

She doesn’t even kiss me goodbye as she slides out of the Jeep. She just waves without looking as she walks down the sidewalk, then up the exposed stairway to the second floor of her apartment complex. I keep staring after her, long after she’s shut the door behind her.

She seemed so distracted today.

And then, last night. When Eli told me what happened, right before I’d found her in the kitchen and he’d gone up to his room, apparently. Goddammit.

She doesn’t even remember.

She stripped for my best friend and she doesn’t even fucking remember.

I close my eyes, my fingers clenched on the steering wheel. And then my phone starts to ring through the speakers of my car.

I open my eyes and answer the call, holding my breath until the line co

For a few seconds, there’s just silence and then I ask, “Mom?”

I hate that my voice is rough, kind of broken. I hate that my entire body is tense as I stare at the steering wheel, waiting for her to say something. Wondering if her calling me was an accident.

It wouldn’t be the first time she’s pocket dialed me.

“Alex!” she says in a false-cheerful voice.

That almost hurts worse. It makes my heart sink, hearing her pretend. Hearing her as the shell of the mother she used to be.

I flex my fingers against the wheel, lean my head back and close my eyes. I want to go upstairs, to Zara’s apartment. I want to fall into her arms. I want to tell her I’m scared. I want to tell her I don’t want her to become my mother.

I want to tell her I think she already has.

“How are you, son?”

I swallow down the anger. “I’m good, Mom. Dad said that he couldn’t make it because—”

She laughs, cutting me off. There’s no humor in her laugh. No amusement whatsoever. Just cold, bitter anger. “What did Dad say?” But she doesn’t let me finish. “I’ll tell you what really happened, because I’m sure he didn’t. There were more pictures today, posted on the church website, right in the comments section under Dad’s latest blog post.” Her voice takes on a hard edge, and I can imagine her jaw locked, her narrowed eyes. I can imagine her rage. I can imagine how much she hates him. “Right under the latest post about keeping the fucking spark alive in your marriage.”

I hate it for her. I fucking hate it for her.

I slam my fist against the wheel, but don’t say anything. She’s not done ranting. But if she’s ranting, it means she’s not using. Not right now. Probably later. Probably as soon as I get off the phone with her, and I’d sit in this fucking Jeep all night long if it meant I could keep her talking. If it meant she’d fall asleep on the line with me. If it meant she wouldn’t slip into a Xanax-induced coma.

“I confronted him of course, and he lied. Of course.”

Of course.

“Mom, I’m so—”

“Don’t ever do this, Alex, do you hear me?” Her tone changes. It’s not hard anymore. Not so angry. It’s…pleading. “Don’t do this to any girl. Even if it’s Zara. Dad said Zara was at the party, with Riha

Obviously, Dad didn’t tell Mom what Zara did with Jamal Clint. Probably better that way.

I glance up at the windows on the second floor of Zara’s apartment. I wish I could see inside. I wish I could always be with her. I wish I could save her.

“Mom, I wouldn’t—”

“Don’t wreck her world because some newer, younger, shinier toy comes into your life. Do you understand me, Alex Christian?”

I rub my hand over my heart. “I understand, Mom.”

But… What if she doesn’t want me? What if she pushes me away? What if she’s like you? What if she leaves me for something new? Something…shinier?

“I know you’ve made some mistakes, Alex, and I know you’ve got to sit the next three games out, son, but don’t you dare let those things make you bitter. Don’t you dare allow the world’s hurt to make you into someone that hurts other people.”

I think about that bottle of tequila. Forcing it down Zara’s throat. I think about the videos going around about her. I think about pulling her into the pool. I was drunk, and stupid, and angry, but I had no right. I had no fucking right.

I think about last fall. Another party. Another girl. Another mistake.

The police. The accusations.

The girl left Caven. She left. Why didn’t Eli and I have to leave?

Because Eli’s dad is a lawyer. Because my family has money. Because that girl was no one.

That girl was just like Zara.

“Okay, Mom. I won’t. I’m so sorry, Mom, I—”

“It’s not your fault. It’s your father’s.”

Are you going to leave him? “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She sighs on the other line, and I can imagine her glancing at the orange tinted prescription bottle. I can imagine her fighting it. I can imagine when it all started. When the rumors of Dad cheating on her were in full force and I didn’t believe it. I didn’t fucking believe it, because Dad is a pastor and he wouldn’t.

And then I went into the pool shed while Mom was away with some friends. I’d come home early from school, wanting to spend the weekend with my dad before he was engulfed with church on Sunday. I’d come home one hour early on a Friday, and he was fucking some girl in that shed.

“I’ve got to go,” she tells me abruptly. I don’t know where Dad is, or what she’s doing, what room she’s in. I know why she hasn’t left though. She gave up everything for him. Her career, her home state, her family. Her life. She moved and gave up everything and now they have money and they have prestige and where would she go? And if she leaves, a divorced man can’t lead the church.

More than that, she doesn’t want to adjust her lifestyle. Even if it’s just getting manicures and popping pills and being talked about around town. It’s her life now.

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Come see us when you can.” I can hear that faint hint of excitement in her words that don’t mesh with what she’s saying. And I know she’s given in again. I know as soon as she ends this call, she’ll be tossing back a handful of pills.

I know it, but there’s nothing I can do.

Dad can’t lead a megachurch if his wife is in rehab either, so they give each other their vices and no one says shit about it, until it comes to a head and they fight. They fight and they scream and in the end, they stay together because no one else would want them.

I look up at Zara’s window again.

“Okay, Mom.”

“I love you, Alex.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I love you too, Mom.”

Sunday night, after spending most of Saturday in bed, I’m outside on the back deck when Eli walks outside with a beer in his hand.

He slides the door closed behind him, sits down on the couch across from me. The sun is set, the tiki torches lit, the underwater lights glowing in the calm surface of the pool.

I turn to glance at him. He’s watching the water, a Caven U wrestling hoodie on over his gym shorts. The circles under his eyes are pretty bad, and I wonder if he’s actually more freaked out about Riha