There’s one other thing I need to manage, though, and it’s going to be hard.
I know Aaron and I are on a “pause,” but I shouldn’t be in a relationship. Not for the foreseeable future.
While this isn’t a typical “addiction,” what I’m going through still fits under that umbrella. And my therapist suggests I spend the next six months focused on myself. Or maybe even longer, depending on how things go outside the walls of the treatment center.
So when I tell Aaron that I’m going to stay in Chicago for a few months, he asks if he can pick me up and drive me home. Of course I say yes.
This isn’t a conversation I want to have over the phone. He’s far too important to me, and he deserves better.
I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off and I tried to make him give me an ultimatum. Which was so unfair of me. I see that now, but I couldn’t see it then. I was scared of the path I was going down. And scared to lose him. I’m still scared. Because my therapist isn’t wrong. I need to be a better me before we can be an us again. And I don’t know how long that’s going to take.
I don’t have any makeup with me, not even mascara, so all I can do is shower and smell good. They confiscate most personal effects, apart from our own clothes. We’re not even allowed to use our own shampoo, because sometimes people will try to smuggle in pills in Ziploc baggies. I only found that out when I saw it happen the second week I was here.
Aaron and I have talked as much as they’ll allow while I’ve been here, but seeing him is different from a phone call. I don’t know if things are going to be the same or different.
Well, I know they’ll be different, but I don’t know to what extent. Aaron has seen me at rock bottom. He knows what it looks like when I’m falling apart, and part of me understands that with everything he’s already been through, I might be too much for him. That a pause with no real definitive end date might not be something he can manage.
I have to come to terms with the possibility that moving forward, there might not be an us.
It makes sense that I had trouble with breakfast this morning. Normally when I’m this stressed out, I’ll avoid food altogether and go for coffee. I might spend hours on a Pinterest board to escape my own brain.
But this morning I drank a fruit shake and spent two hours on meditative yoga. Caffeine has been limited to one coffee a day. I typically drink it with breakfast but skipped it this morning because I was already jittery enough. I don’t run from my fears today. Instead, I face them down and accept that whatever is going to happen is out of my control, but I decide how I’ll deal with whatever is coming.
I pack my things and thank the staff and my team, and then I wait for him to arrive. I’ll miss the serenity here, but I’m ready to get back to my life and the people I love, no matter what that looks like.
When he pulls up in his truck, my heart skips a few beats. And when he steps out, his smile wide and warm, it kicks into a full gallop.
This is going to be hard. Harder than I thought.
He jogs up the front steps and folds me into his embrace. He buries his face in my hair, and I feel his lips on my neck.
“I missed you so fucking much, babe,” he murmurs against my skin.
I return the embrace, breathing in the scent of his cologne and absorbing the feel of his arms wrapped around me, blanketing me in his strength. “I missed you, too, so much.”
We stand there for a long time, just holding on to each other. Long enough that my nerves take over and I feel a few chips in my resolve. But I remind myself that we can’t go back to how things were. That I need to be able to stand on my own before I can stand beside him.
Eventually he releases me, but he takes my face between his cold palms, and that smile he’s wearing fades. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
“I’m just emotional. Today is big. Thank you for coming to pick me up.”
He must see something in my expression, because instead of dipping down to kiss me, he presses his lips to my temple. “I’m here for you, whatever you need, however you need me.”
The drive from the center to Chicago is only about half an hour. We talk about Pearl Lake, and he points to a card on the dash that’s been signed by at least a hundred people. He tells me about his last visit with Jamie, and how he thinks he might be convincing Lydia to move out toward Pearl Lake, and how his dad has been actively looking for his own place on the lake.
“He came down last weekend and stayed at my mom’s.”
“Really? How did that go?”
“My mom was blushing like a teenager every time he so much as glanced at her, so that was awkward as hell, but good, you know? They both deserve to be happy. Kinda makes me wish I’d had that discussion with her a long time ago. Maybe things would have been different if I hadn’t sat on it as long as I did.”
“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn’t it?”
“Seems that way.”
When we reach the outskirts of Chicago, I suggest we stop for a bite to eat. I want more time with Aaron before we get to my dad’s place. And I need to talk to him about what the next few months are going to look like for us.
We stop at a diner and take a seat in one of the booths. After we order, Aaron places his hand on the table palm up, and I slip my hand into his.
“You know, when you come to Pearl Lake next week, you’re more than welcome to stay at my place.” His thumb smooths back and forth along my knuckles.
My stomach flips. I don’t want to say no, but I have to. “About that.” I don’t know if I can do this without getting emotional.
“Is everything okay? Are we okay?” Aaron’s gaze shifts to the side, and he swallows thickly.
“We’re okay.” I give his hand a squeeze.
“Your expression says something a lot different,” he says softly.
“I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone,” I tell him.
His jaw works, and he pulls his hand back, sliding it under the table. “This sounds like the beginning of a breakup speech.”
“It’s not,” I whisper.
“You look like you’re gonna cry, Teagan.”
“That’s because I am.” I fish around in my purse for a tissue.
“Should we leave?” Aaron’s face reads panic.
I shake my head. “One of the steps in recovery is learning not to be dependent on other people. And I know it’s not like a typical addiction, but it still hits all the same notes, you know? My therapist said I shouldn’t be in a relationship right now, and she’s right.”