“Have you told him?” Max asked after a minute.
“Told who, what?”
Max gave me a look. “Have you told your neighbor where you are tonight? Where you’re court-ordered to go three times a week?”
“No,” I said. “Why would I?”
“Are you ashamed? I know it’s hard, but don’t be. Or don’t let it rule you, it’ll just cause more problems in the end.”
But if I never tell, there will be no end. Only beginnings.
Max gave my arm a squeeze.
“We’re all made up of strengths and weaknesses, every one of us. You have strengths. Plenty. Getting clean is a strength. Picking yourself back up again after you fall, that’s a strength.”
“I don’t feel strong. Not yet. I feel like…”
“What?”
I sniffed and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. For some stupid, unknowable reason I was on the verge of tears. “He’ll hate me, Max.”
“I’m more concerned about you hating you.”
“I don’t…”
“Addicts lie, Dar,” Max said gently. “That’s one of our defining characteristics. You’ll always be an addict. You’ll always fight that battle. But fight it with your best, most honest self, if you want a chance to win.” His smile was sad and knowing at the same time. “It’s too easy to slip if you don’t.”
At the Victorian, I crept up the stairs past Sawyer’s place like a burglar, sure that his door would swing open and he’d loudly demand where I’d been, or that he’d see right through me without having to ask. The evidence was all over me, inside me, and coming out through my pores—the scent of cheap YMCA coffee and shame.
I flinched and hurried into my studio.
Inside, I dumped my bag on the floor, and stretched out on my tiny couch under the window. It was a loveseat, hardly big enough for two;
beige with reddish swirls of flowers. Gerber daisies—my favorite—and roses.
Outside the window, the night sky deepened. San Francisco was a quieter city than New York, and the silence felt thick and stifling, like a blanket on a hot night. I felt restless.
I had to keep myself busy. I jumped off the couch to make chocolate chip cookies for Hector. While I stirred the batter, everything Max and I had talked about floated in and out of my thoughts. All of his warnings and advice sounded so wonderful and smart and helpful, but as if they were meant for someone else. Someone far worse off than me. Things were fine as they were without anyone here knowing, especially Sawyer. He might need me again, for Livvie, and hell would freeze up before I ever brought anything bad near that little angel, so why worry him?
A twinge of something unpleasant settled in my stomach. The same uneasy feeling I’d had as a kid, where I’d done something wrong and it was only a matter of time until I got caught.
I put the cookies in the oven and let the door slam shut.
“It was too damn hot in here, that’s all,” I muttered. I started to take off my sweater and my hand found the phone number in my pocket again. I sat up and contemplated the ten digits.
Actions, not words.
I picked up my phone, then hesitated at the time. Ten-thirty on a weeknight. But I’d already wasted four days.
“They probably already found someone,” I said as I punched in the numbers.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answered.
“Yeah, hi, sorry it’s so late. I’m calling about your dance troupe?” I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. “I was wondering if you still needed someone?”
“Yes,” the guy said, then lowered his voice. “Yes, we are still auditioning dancers. Are you available tomorrow?”
I pulled my sweater sleeve over my hand and bit the cuff.