October 12: Brian

“Are you listening to me?”
I shake myself awake and sit up in the chair in front of Ms. McConnell. She leans forward over her desk and stares at me.
“You’re not listening, are you?”
“I am,” I insist and rub my eyes. “I hear you.”
“You hear me, but you aren’t listening.” She sighs. “Brian, I’m worried about you. Your grades are not very good-”
“It’s the first month.”
“You’ve missed twelve class periods already. And from what I am hearing from your teachers, you may as well not even be there when you do show up for class.”
I don’t say anything.
“Are you high right now?”
I bite my tongue.
“Don’t lie to me, Brian.” She stares hard without blinking. “Are you high?”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
She grits her teeth. “On what?”
I shrug. “Weed, a couple pills.”
“Is that all?”
I decide it’s probably a bad idea to tell her I’m still a little strung out on meth from last night.
“That’s it.”
“Brian.” She sighs. “You’ve got to stop this. Two years ago you were at the top of your class. What happened?”
“High school happened.” I chuckle.
“This isn’t funny, Brian. Is there something you want to talk about? Is everything okay at home? How’s your dad?”
“Everything is just fine,” I assure her. “There’s nothing I want to talk about. My dad is perfect. Didn’t you read that article about him in the paper last week?”
She shakes her head. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Yeah, everybody’s so fucking worried about me.” I stand up. “Do yourself a favor and stop worrying about me. If I mess up, it’s on my ass. You’re still gonna get your paycheck and go on with your perfect little life.”
“Brian, sit down.” Her face flushes bright red. First time I’ve ever heard her raise her voice. “That’s not how this works. We’re not talking about me; we’re talking about you. You know nothing about my life.”
“And you don’t know shit about mine!” My voice echoes throughout the room, shatters the stiff air. I pull my backpack over my shoulder. “So stop pretending you do just because you’ve got some degree plastered on your wall.”
I swear she tears up. But she doesn’t let any of the tears go. She swallows hard and closes her eyes. I wish I could eat my words, force them down like bitter blackberries and pretend she never heard them. She speaks before I can apologize.
“Just go to class, Brian.” She sighs. “Please. Just go to class.”
I know it’s completely terrible that the first thing I want to do when I leave her office is shoot up. My meth habits are becoming more frequent lately. I know I need to cut back. Crank is not something I need to be addicted to, and each hit is one step closer to being just that. I guess I should just be happy it’s Ms. McConnell who caught me smoking this morning, and not Mr. Hall. He would’ve called my dad for sure. And I’d be packing my bags to leave for boot camp.
What did she expect me to say to her? No, Ms. McConnell, everything is not okay. In fact, everything is miserable. My dad is drowning himself in work, and he doesn’t even know that my mom has been calling from rehab. She’s supposed to get out in a few weeks, and even though I miss her, I’m terrified. I’m scared I’m becoming them- addicted to everything that’s bad for me. I’m worried that it might already be too late, that I could be addicted to crystal. I’m sick of everything around me: school, home, my friends, weed. I’m sick. No. Everything is not okay.
Yeah, that would never work. I wipe the tears from my face with my shirt sleeve. I rub my cheeks raw, so hard that they sting. I sit down on a bench in the lobby outside of the gym. Anyone could walk by, but I don’t care. I close my eyes and try to convince myself that I don’t need the meth. I don’t need it. I’m not an addict.
“Are you okay?” A soft voice echoes in my ear.
“I swear, if I have to hear that one more time.” I open my eyes and see a girl I’ve never seen before.
She’s kind of short with dark brown hair that’s pulled back into a loose braid. Wisps of hair curl around her face. And it’s a face like nothing I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are almost as dark as her hair, big and beautiful. Her lips are full, her teeth straight. Her body is perfect too, from what I can see under her floral button-down shirt and jeans. Curves. Perfect curves.
The meth is fucking with my head, I think. Except she’s real.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “You just… You look like you’re not okay. So I guess it was a stupid question.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. Just a bad day, that’s all. Bad week, really.”
She nods. “Tell me about it.”
“You’re not okay either?”
“I’m new here.” She comes a few steps closer. “I have no idea where I’m going.”
“What are you looking for?”
She looks down at the piece of paper in her hand. “I’m looking for Miss McConnell’s office.” She says it more like a question than a statement.
“Oh, you’re gonna want to give her a few minutes.” I half-smile. “I just came from there.”
“Oh.”
God, she’s beautiful. And I have no idea who she is, and- even better- she has no idea who I am.
“I’m Brian.”
“Lily. Well, Lillian. But nobody ever calls me that. Except my mom, she calls me Lillian sometimes when she’s mad at me, but that’s it.”
She’s totally flustered and I chuckle. “You can sit down if you want, Lily.”
She smiles. “Okay.” She sits down next to me. Our legs almost touch, but they don’t. I force myself to breath.
“Where are you from?”
“North Carolina.” Southern. I should have known; she’s got a slow, sweet tea drawl.
“So today is your first day?”
“Second.” She shakes her head.
“And nobody gave you the grand tour of this amazing place?” I wave my arms around.
She catches on to my sarcasm. “Well, this girl kind of gave me a tour. Her name was Ruby, and she was in a big hurry. She said something about a pep rally meeting and announcements and band practice and I lost track.”
“Yeah, that’s Ruby for you. Busy.” Always too busy.
“Anyway, she showed me where my first class was and never showed up for the rest of the tour.” She shrugs. “I found my other classes okay, but I still don’t really know where I’m going. And now I have to talk to this guidance counselor about getting me out of Chemistry. I hate it.”
“I feel you.” I laugh. “I’ve already failed it once. Who do you have?”
She shrugs. “Some crazy lady named Kate. She seems cool, though.”
“I have her too. Third period.”
“That’s when I have her.” Lily scowls. “I don’t remember seeing you there yesterday, though.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I haven’t been there very much lately.”
She laughs. “So you’ve already failed it once, but you’re still skipping class? Very smart.”
“I never said I was smart.” I crack a smile. “Maybe I just need some motivation.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I mean, maybe if you stayed in the class I’d have a reason to show up.”
She blushes again.
“If not, I guess I’ll just have to keep on skipping and fail again. My success is in your hands, Lily.”
“No pressure.” She giggles. “Alright, I’ll stay in dreadful chemistry. But only if you promise to come to class every day.”
“Every day?” I grumble.
She holds out her pinky. The glittery pink polish on her nails catches my eye.
“Every day.”
I wrap my pinky around hers. The electricity in that touch is packed with more heat than the best weed I’ve ever had. No high has ever felt this powerful. In this moment, I realize this is one promise that I could actually keep.
“Deal.”
When the bell rings, we walk to chemistry together. She sits at my lab table right across from me.
“So nice of you to show up, Mister Phillips.” Kate smiles sarcastically. “What’s the special occasion?”
I shrug. “Sudden change of heart.”
Lily smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. Kate looks me up and down, takes a few sniffs, and then walks away. I guess I don’t smell too much like weed today.
“Alright class, let’s get started.” Kate writes a bunch of chemical reactions on the board.
My eyes lock with Lily’s. She blushes and pulls on her hair, copies a problem, then looks back at me. I consider asking Kate what this reaction is that I’m feeling right now. What kind of chemical properties are going crazy in my head? So much heat, unbelievable power. Her eyes pull me into her. Is that magnetism? I don’t know what it is. Even Kate couldn’t understand this kind of chemistry. I don’t think I blink one time for the next eighty-nine minutes.
I consider asking Lily to eat lunch with me, but that would mean explaining her to my friends. And the last thing I want is for her to meet the guys.
“This girl from my French class asked me to eat with her today,” Lily says once we are out of class. “I guess I will.”
I can’t help but be a little relieved. “Okay. You don’t want to eat with my friends anyway. Trust me.”
“They can’t be that bad.”
If she only knew. “Thanks for making me go to chemistry. I needed it.”
She nods. “Thanks for convincing me to stay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lily.”
I watch as she walks away, a little reluctant. I’m reluctant to see her go, but the last thing I need is the guys cracking jokes and offering her a hit off of their cigarettes. Suddenly I realize I’m not high anymore. Not substance-induced high, anyway. And as Lily looks back at me over her shoulder, I realize that something is terribly wrong with this picture.
She has absolutely no idea who I am.

“What’s up with you, man?” Lex asks on the way to lunch. “You’re acting weird.”
“Seriously,” Donovan agrees.
“It’s nothing,” I assure them.
“Brian!” Someone calls my name from the other side of the lobby. We all stop and I realize it’s Ms. McConnell. She hurries towards us.
“Uh-oh,” Charlie mumbles.
“I need you to come with me.” She ignores the guys and stares straight at me.
“Haven’t you seen enough of me today?” I sneer. “And besides, it’s my lunch period.”
“You have an early dismissal.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
My dad walks up behind Ms. McConnell in an expensive suit. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. The lines on his forehead are creased and he stares hard at me.
“Dad.” My face gets hot. “What are you doing here?”
“We’ll talk about it in the car.” His voice is steady. “Let’s go, Son.”
The guys stand awkwardly beside me for a few seconds before Lex breaks the tension.
“I guess we’ll see you tonight.”
“Yeah, football game?” Michael asks.
“I guess so,” I mumble.
They go into the cafeteria, leaving me in the lobby standing next to my guidance counselor and my dad. As the lobby clears out, a million thoughts rush into my head. The last time dad took off for work was to tell me that my mom was in an accident. What could be his reason now? Did Ms. McConnell tell him I was skipping? Does he know I’m failing? Oh God, if he sends me to boot camp I’ll die.
“Come on, Brian.” Dad squeezes my shoulder.
“What about my truck?”
“I’ll drop you off later and you can pick it up.” He pushes me towards the front of the school. “Thank you, Misses McConnell.”
“You’re welcome.” She looks at me with soft, concerned eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Brian.”
What is that supposed to mean? Does it mean they aren’t sending me away? Or was she just saying it so I would think they weren’t sending me off? The thoughts cram inside of my head and crash against the walls of my skull.
Dad is silent until we get to the car. When I can’t take it anymore, I finally ask him.
“Dad, what’s going on?”
“Just get in the car, Brian.” He opens his door.
“Not until you tell me where we’re going.” I cross my arms.
He sighs. “Your mom called the office this morning.”
I suck in a breath.
“Did you know she’s been trying to call us? They’re almost ready to release her.”
The words dance around on my tongue. I could tell him the truth or I could lie, blame it on a faulty answering machine.
“No,” I finally manage. “I had no idea.”
His shoulders relax; he believes me.
“What are we going to do, Dad?”
“We’re going to get in the car and drive to the rehab center.” His eyes are distant. “I don’t know what’s going to happen from there, but she wants to see us. She wants to see you.”
We get in the car and drive for forty-five minutes in complete silence. Dad’s phone rings so many times that he turns it off. I can tell by the way he grips the steering wheel that he is just as nervous as I am. I imagine that his thoughts are going just as fast as mine, maybe faster. Neither one of us knows what is going to happen. I have not seen my mom since I was in fifth grade, and now all of sudden she exists again. Seven years is a long time.
I remember that I have one Xanax left in my pocket from this morning. I slip my hand in my pocket and pull it out. Dad is so focused on the road and whatever is in his head that he doesn’t even notice when I slip the pill into my mouth and swallow it dry.
No way could I handle this sober.

From the images in my head and the pictures that sit on our mantels and tables at home, I know that mom had blonde hair. She liked to keep it just above the shoulders, curled under. I remember her hair being crispy from all of the hairspray she used to keep her bangs in place over her forehead. She smelled like butterscotch candy. She never wore bright colors, only neutrals. She was serious, almost too serious. And then she would get home from work and make a drink. After three or four, she wasn’t so serious anymore. Sometimes she would even pay me a little bit of attention. Until she got to six or seven drinks. Then Dad would carry her up the stairs and into their bedroom before returning to his study and working for hours on end.
Once I started getting older, Dad stayed at the office later and later. Mom drank more and more. Too many memories of cold pizza and cereal for dinner, getting myself ready for school, forgotten soccer games and parent-teacher conferences. Too many memories that I’m not ready to bring back just yet. This is what I remember about my mother.
So when we get off the elevator in the rehabilitation center, I’m not sure what to expect. Will she look the same? Is her hair still crispy? Do they even allow hairspray here? Is she still serious?
“Just relax,” Dad mumbles. He must sense my fear. “We are going to be fine.” We. I guess he’s scared too.
“She’s usually pretty quiet,” The nurse tells us. She is a short black lady with curly wet hair. My dad and I follow her down the hall stiffly. “But, she has made it clear that she wants to see both of you.”
The hallway is long, empty, and eerily quiet. The nurse takes us into a big room with a bunch of tables and couches in it.
“I’ll be right back.” She pats me on the shoulder and leaves.
Dad sits down at a table in the corner and I sit down next to him. The air in the room is cold, still. We take turns sipping in short gasps of it. Footsteps echo in the hall. I rub my hands on my jeans.
Dad and I both suck in a breath when Mom walks in behind the nurse. She’s almost a foot taller than the black lady. Dad stands up; so do I.
“My boys,” Mom mumbles. She walks towards us with a smile on her face. The smile is tired, weak. But it’s there. I try to force one but none of my muscles seem to be working right.
When she wraps her arms around me, it feels strange hugging her back. She doesn’t smell like butterscotch anymore. She holds the hug for a little longer than I’m comfortable with before moving on to Dad. It seems like Dad has trouble remembering how to hug too, but after several seconds he slips into a comfortable embrace and closes his eyes.
“I’ve missed you guys.” Mom looks me over. “I can’t believe this is my son. You’re huge.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I laugh and Dad does to.
“You know what I mean. I haven’t seen you in years. Too many years.” She points to a table. “Let’s sit down.”
“I’ll be back in an hour,” the nurse says.
I sit down first, and she pushes a chair right next to me and sits down. Dad sits across from us and rests his hands in his lap. We stare at each other for several seconds.
“Well,” Mom sighs. “How is school going? If my math is correct, you’re a senior this year, right?”
“Not really,” I mutter. “School hasn’t been going so well.”
“What does that mean?” She looks at my dad. “What do you mean, ‘not really?’?”
“I messed up,” I confess. “I’m not graduating this year.”
“Why not?”
I shrug.
“What’s going on?” She stares at my Dad. “John?”
“Brian’s just hit a few bumps.” Dad’s voice is quiet. “He’s back on track now, right Brian?”
“Yeah.”
“He should’ve never gotten off of the right track.” Mom taps her fingertips on the table. “All I wanted was for you to take care of our son while I was away. And now look at him. Dirty clothes, he needs a haircut, failing classes, he smells like cigarettes-”
“Mom, I’m sitting right here.”
“Don’t do this, Christine. Not today.” Dad lowers his head. “Brian is doing just fine; he’ll be fine.”
“Clearly.” Mom sneers. “I should’ve never left him with you.”
“Not that you had much of a choice.” Dad’s voice booms. “You’ve been gone for seven years, Christine. And Brian is his own man now. He can grow his hair out if he wants to.”
“Thanks Dad,” I mumble.
“I guess it’s just not what I was expecting.” Mom sighs. “We had plans, John. Specific plans, remember?”
“I believe those plans were ruined a long time ago,” Dad says.
Their voices get louder and louder and I’m so thankful I popped that Xanax earlier. I pull myself out of the room mentally. I’ve become good at that, pretending I’m not there. I let myself float up and away like a balloon until Dad stands up and pushes his chair.
“Enough!” His scream pulls at my string until I’m back in the room. “Are we really doing this? After all this time, it’s like nothing has changed.”
“Don’t pretend like this is my fault,” Mom mutters.
“I’m not so sure I like you sober as much as I thought I would,” Dad sneers. “We’re finished here.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?” Mom stands up. “You can’t leave.”
“We’ll come back next week,” Dad promises. “This is too much.” He shakes his head and walks out of the room.
“Brian,” Mom whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her voice quivers.
This isn’t the mother that I remember. Then again, maybe I’m just delusional as to which memories are real and which ones I made up. And just like that, the images I’d played in my head for years about our first reunion are shattered like a cheap bowl. Not exactly how this had played out in my mind.
“Don’t sweat it.” I don’t know what else to say, so I follow my dad out into the hallway and ignore the nurse’s puzzled look when we walk by her forty-five minutes before our hour is up.


“Snap out of it.” Lex waves his hand in front of my face. “Are you that gone?”
I blink my eyes. “Sorry, man. That was some good shit.” I ruffle my hands through my hair and sigh. I’ve been out of it for the entire game.
We stand in the parking lot along with a third of the student body. I haven’t watched a single play of the game; I’m not here for football. I’ve got enough weed in my pocket to put me away for a long time, but I don’t care. The cops around here are the ones that got stuck working at the school because they couldn’t cut it in the real world.
“Looks like you’ve got another customer,” Charlie says and nods towards Evelyn, who is walking our way.
“Hey boys.” She crosses her arms. Her lips are painted red and her hair is especially crazy. “I’ll take a gram.”
She holds out a twenty and taps her foot, which is wrapped in a six-inch shiny black heel. The exchange is so fast nobody would ever see it. I slip a small bag into her hand and stuff the money in my pocket.
“Be a good girl,” I tease her.
“No promises.” She winks and runs her hand over my chest and stomach. “I’ll see you around. Bye boys.” She waves at the guys.
“Later Ev,” Thomas mumbles. They all stare at her ass until she’s out of sight. I’m over it.
“Brian,” a voice calls behind me.
I turn around and see Lily. She’s wearing a white jacket that hugs her curves and looks soft. Her hair is out of the braid and teases her shoulders. Her cheeks are red; she’s probably not used to Chicago nights yet.
“Hey, Lily.” I clear my throat. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She points to the girl beside her. “Hannah made me come tonight.”
“I told her she needed to get out,” the girl says.
“Right,” I mumble.
Lex puts his hand on my shoulder. “Who is this?”
I sigh and turn to the guys. “This is Lily. She’s from North Carolina.”
“A real Southern belle, huh?” Michael licks his lips. “Remind me to venture down South more often.”
Lily shifts from foot to foot. I swallow the lump in my throat and beg the awkward silence to go away and come again some other time. I’ve had enough of that for one day.
“So are you here to buy some bud?” Lex smiles at her.
I consider punching him square in his jaw, but instead I clench mine and squeeze my fingers into tight balls. The last thing I need is to cause a scene.
“Some what?” Lily asks.
“You know… bud.” Lex holds his fingers up to his mouth like he’s smoking a joint. “Grass?”
“Kush,” Thomas says.
“Mary Jane,” adds Michael.
Then Donovan, “Weed.”
“My man Brian sells the best stuff in town.” Lex pats me on the back.
“Cool it, dude.” I brush his hand away.
“What are they talking about?” Lily scowls. “You don’t sell drugs, do you?”
I could lie. I could tell her that they’re just messing around with her because she’s new and she’s pretty. I could bite my tongue and not say anything. I could walk away all together. After all, she’s just a girl.
But she’s not. And I cannot.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
She stares at me for several seconds. Her face goes pale; her eyes darken even more than they already are. She nods slowly.
“You were right,” she sneers. “You never said you were smart.”
She walks away with Hannah following behind her. Something crawls up my throat and into my head. I don’t know what it is. Anger? Sadness? I cannot possibly be tearing up. I think I am feeling something. I do not even remember the last time I actually felt something.
“What the hell was that all about?” Lex puts his arm around me.
“Get off me, man.” I pull away from him and start walking towards the front gate.
“Dude, where are you going?” Thomas calls after me.
I hurry to my truck, letting the cool air fight with the hot tears pooling in my eyes. When I get there, I lean against the side of the truck and let out a long sigh.
“Fuck!” I kick the front tire over and over again, and then pound my fists on the hood.
Something has got to give, I decide. I cannot keep this up. All of the moments from the day come flooding back into my head and crash around until I can’t breathe. I find the nearest trashcan and throw the rest of the weed away before returning to my truck and falling down on the pavement.
I sit there, reminding myself to breathe. I come down from my high faster than I ever have before, with my body tingling and my pulse racing. I punch myself over and over again in the leg until I can’t feel it anymore. I pound my fist against my thigh- for being so high, for screwing things up with Lily, for failing school, for disappointing my mom, and for being a disgrace to my dad. They’re both fucked. And they say the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, but I am rotten. From the outside all the way into my core, everything about me is screwed up, bitter, bad. And I can’t do it anymore.


I vow to find my good again.