Jessica Sorensen - Tristan: Finding Hope

Nova leans in closer. “You want to talk about it?”

I shake my head, popping the cigarette into my mouth and then reaching into my pocket to get my lighter. “No, I’m good, but thanks.” I inch away from her and light up as she leans back. “I am fucking hungry, though. So how about we go eat.” I say it because it’s what she wants to hear and it’ll get her to leave me alone so I can sulk in my own head because what I really want to doing is snort lines. I know it’s wrong. Know I’m fucked up for not being able to stop. But I’ve accepted that I might always be that way. An addict and I’m about to fuck up again, be the loser I am. But I tell myself I need it, that I can’t live without it, because it makes it easier to do.

Nova has to get ready and Quinton goes back into the room with her. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to take care of my craving. So I pretend to go back into my room, then I slip outside unnoticed and walk to the last door of the motel. There’s a guy there who call himself D-Man. I ran into him once when I was wandering around outside. He was totally a tweaker: skinny, thinning hair, pale skin, bones protruding, teeth rotting, sores on his skin. It was looking into a mirror of the past and after chatting for a little while, I ended up doing a line with him, hence my slipup a few weeks ago. Quinton was the one who found out. Ex-tweakers have a radar for people who are spun out of their minds. He stayed with me until my system was clean, until the crashing was over, and he’s been watching me like a hawk every since. He didn’t tell Nova about it, which I’m grateful for. The last thing I want to do is see the disappointment in her eyes that I’ve seen many times before, including when I kissed her. That one stung.

I rap on the door and he opens up, his eyes glossed over with that look I crave. I need to make it quick before I get busted, so I say I need to buy a hit, or two, or three, or four.

“Sure man,” he says, his voice in that same euphoric state as my mother’s. He goes back into the room and I wait outside because I can see the syringe and spoon on his nightstand and I know if I step over the threshold I’ll want to do that, but I can’t. Not without being busted the moment I pass out. Plus that’s the cause behind why we’re going out to celebrate that I’m disease free today. Still, I crave it and I think I pretty much keep my eyes on it the entire time until D-Man comes back with a small bag with a pinch of white crystals in it. I give him the money, and then tuck it into my pocket, hurrying back toward my room so I’ll have time to do it before we go out.

But my plan goes to shit because Quinton’s waiting outside when I get there, smoking, and when he sees me coming, he gets this weird look on his face like his tweaker radar is on.

“Where’ve you been?” he asks, ashing his cigarette as he searches my eyes, probably for enlarged pupils and lack of blinking.

I miss a beat, but recover. “I went to see if they have any gum in the vending machines,” I say, pointing over my shoulder. “If we’re going to a restaurant, I’m not going to be able to smoke when I want to and I’m going to need something to keep me from wanting to grind the shit out of my teeth all night.”

He’s not buying it, but doesn’t press. “Nova will be out in just a second,” he says and plops down on the curb, stretching out his legs. He doesn’t ask me to sit down and I could easily slip back into my room and do my line. It’d make tonight a hell of a lot easier to bear. But I know if I do, he’s going to sense something else is up, and honestly, I don’t want him to know that I’m still that person who runs to drugs every time there’s a bump in the road. Or maybe I’m just deciding what road I want to go down.

Quinton and I sit on the curb while we wait for Nova to come out. We smoke and stare as the blue sky shifts to gray. It’s fairly quiet and we only talk every few minutes. It reminds me of when we were both doing drugs and we just sit and let time waste away. It makes it difficult not to pull out the bag and say “Let’s take a hit,” and it makes the bag feel like it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I’m going to have to find a way to get alone so I can do it.

About fifteen minutes later, Nova walks out of their room wearing shorts and a clean tank top, her hair down and running down her back in waves. “Okay, so Avery should be here any second.”

“Who the hell is Avery?” I ask as Quinton says, “Sounds good.”

Nova shuts the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Oh, she’s the girl whose house we’re building. She actually stopped by today and we got talking and I said how we were going out to celebrate. She mentioned she knew some good places with good music and offered to take us out as a thank-you.” She plops down on the curb between Quinton and me. “She’s really nice. I think you’ll like her.”

I rake my fingers through my hair. Great. One more person I’m going to have to escape tonight. “What exactly did you say we’re celebrating?”

“Life,” Nova says simply. I press back a smile. Only her.

A moment later a horn beeps and Nova glances around the parking lot and then waves at this old red Jeep with the top off parked just a ways off. “There she is.” She gets up and heads over and Quinton and I follow her.

“You okay with this?” Quinton asks quietly cross the parking lot.

“With what?” I ask, patting my pocket to make sure I have my cigarettes and lighter on me.

“With going out with a stranger on your night?”

“My night?” I say in a sarcastic tone. “You make it sound like I’m a sixteen-year-old girl going to prom.”

He snorts a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I’m fine with whoever goes. It’s all the same.”

He nods and then slows down as we reach the Jeep. He opens the door to get in and the girl… Avery or whatever says hi to him as he flips the seat back and climbs in. I follow, letting Nova take the front. As I’m getting situated in the backseat, I get a good look at this Avery girl. When Nova said that there was a girl coming with us and that it was the one we were building the house for, I expected someone older. Avery has long brown hair with a streak of purple going down it, hazel eyes surrounded by black eyeliner, and full lips with a piercing just above the top one. She’s got to be around twenty, give or take a few years, which has me confused why we’re building her a house. She looks like she should be in college. Usually when we build houses, they’re for families.

“I’m Avery,” she says as she turns in her seat and extends her hand to me. I notice she has a cross tattooed on her forearm with the word Survivor below it. I wonder what she’s survived.

“Tristan,” I say, taking her hand and shaking it. There’s this weird moment between the two of us where I sense that she’s checking me out just as much as I’m checking her out. She’s not bad on the eyes at all. Totally fuckable. She looks like she’s been through some stuff, rough around the edges, eyes that carry secrets. I wonder what those secrets are—I wonder if they’re as fucked up as mine.

“Nice to meet you, Tristan,” she says, giving me a once-over, in this slow, lasting way.

She takes one last look then turns to Quinton, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “And good to see you again, Quinton.”

“Likewise,” Quinton says as Nova hops into the front seat and closes the door. “So where are you taking us?”

Avery grabs the shifter as she turns on the headlights. “I was thinking about going to the The Vibe. They’ve got some really good food and music and it’s not as rowdy as some of the other shit around here.” She drives onto the road, the wind sweeping through the roofless vehicle. “You guys are all twenty-one, right?” She specifically glances at me from over her shoulder and I almost laugh. That’s a first. Usually people think I’m older.

“I’m twenty-three,” I tell her, then just because, I decided to throw it back at her. “You don’t look old enough, though.”

“Twenty-two.” She winks. “But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as a compliment.” And now I’m flirting.

Quinton glances at me, arching a brow, like Really, you’re going to go there? Avery seems to enjoy it, still smiling as she turns around in her seat.

“What?” I ask him, playing dumb.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, then leans toward me. “Be careful, man. Remember, she’s the person we’re building a house for and it’s not going to go over well if you hook up with her and bail out the next morning.”

I glance up front to see if Nova and Avery are paying attention, but they’re chatting about bands. Nova plays the drums and Avery plays the guitar and they both seem excited about this.

“Who said I’m planning on hooking up and bailing on her?” I ask quietly.

“You have that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

He gives me an accusing look. “The one you get right before you hook up and then leave the girl two seconds later. I know the drill man. I used to do it too, remember.”

“Hey, maybe I’m planning on hooking up with her and sticking around for a while,” I say.

“In the four years we’ve been around each other,” he says. “I’ve never seen you ever once stick around.”

I want to tell him that’s not true. That I stuck around for Nova, even when we didn’t hook up. I almost do too, mainly so he’ll get pissed and I can go get high without worrying about him keeping an eye on me. But Nova and Avery are in the car and I don’t know Avery and Nova’s seen enough of the ugly in me for a while. So I keep my lips shut and I kind of zone out for the rest of the drive, thinking about Ryder. I feel bad for not going home, but not because of my mother. Ryder was a good sister. Things were easier when she was there. When I was younger, she saw me when I was invisible to everyone else in my family. I should have gone home, if nothing else, for her.