Chapter 26
Two days. And still no word from Porter.
I’d sent countless text messages with no reply.
Perhaps he was finished with me after all? His words echoed in my head . . . I’m done, I’m finished. Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to say good-bye?
I had no idea what to think. Leandra and the other sister wives were filling my days with endless chores, making it impossible for me to sneak away. During my time with Jorjina, I was still wary and cautious to sneak away to see him. And if I were being honest with myself, I was too afraid to go regardless of my situation.
Perhaps he was sending a very clear message, one I was unable or unwilling to see. Perhaps he wanted to be left alone . . . for good. That thought made my stomach churn. The idea of life without Porter was unbearable in and of itself. But life stuck in the Cluff household? Stuck, just like Jorjina had predicted? That would be unbearable.
I couldn’t let that happen.
No matter what, I had to leave this place, even if Porter was no longer one of my reasons for leaving. I couldn’t give up on him, though, no matter how timid I was due to our current circumstances, no matter what the consequences might be. I loved him, truly loved him, and wanted him in my life. And I knew I had to see him. I had to overcome my fears and sneak away.
And so I did.
With my heart racing, I threw open my bedroom window and perched on top of the sill. There were several feet between the window and the nearest branch. Could I do it without breaking a leg?
I didn’t care. I had to try.
With a single deep breath, I threw myself at the tree, grabbing the thick branch with desperate hands. The bark dug into my palms and I grimaced at the pain. My legs dangled and a breeze blew through my skirt, pushing it from my body. With renewed strength and purpose, I used my hands to walk me to the trunk, then wrapped my arms around it and slid carefully down to the ground.
With my purse over my shoulder, I set off to see him. I had to get answers. No matter the consequences.
? ? ?
Charlie answered the door. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. He was high, or coming down from one. I could only hope that Porter hadn’t joined him.
Did you know I’ve been clean for two months? I remembered those words and prayed that Porter was still clean.
“What do you want?” Charlie demanded, the muscles of his bare arms bulging as he spoke.
“I need to see him. Is he here?”
“Maybe.”
I had no clue why Charlie was treating me with such disdain, but he wasn’t my concern. Porter was.
For the first time in twenty-two years, I rolled my eyes. I pushed past Charlie, calling Porter’s name as I walked through the kitchen and into the living area.
There he was, slumped on the couch wearing just a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He glanced my way, but didn’t move.
“Go away, Brin,” he muttered, focusing his attention on the army game one of his roommates was playing. Machine guns blasted from the television, and bodies flailed with blood splattering across the screen. Disgusting.
“I need to talk to you.”
“No.” He wiped his hand straight across his entire face, and right then I knew.
He was coming down from a high.
No. No. No. No.
“I’m not taking no for an answer.” I planted my feet and hooked my hands on my hips.
“Is that so?” Unsteadily, Porter rose to a seated position on the couch. His eyes widened and then shut as he pressed his head to the back of the cushion. Part of me wondered just how coherent he was.
“Yes. Let’s go to your room.”
“Oooh,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Someone’s feeling feisty, huh?”
“Stop it,” I said through gritted teeth. I was in no mood for his inappropriate humor. This was not the time or the place.
His roommate, Darren, snickered from the chair.
Without hesitation, I turned to him with daggers in my eyes. “Quiet. This isn’t about you.”
“Control your woman, Porter,” the overweight boy said with another snicker.
“Shut the f*ck up, douche.” Porter stood and walked to his roommate, his hand making contact with the top of Darren’s head. Darren tossed his remote control across the room and stood opposite Porter, pushing him square in the chest.
“You wanna step to this, you f*ckin’ p-ssy?” Darren screamed.
“Yeah, motherf*cker, I do!” Porter yelled, inches from Darren’s face, not backing down. “You don’t f*cking talk to her like that, you hear me?”
Darren glowered at Porter, but was visibly intimidated. Porter wasn’t backing down and Darren knew it.
“Whatever,” Darren said, his voice lowered. “Keep her the hell away from me, all right?” He retrieved the remote control from the other side of the room and returned to his chair.
“F*ck off,” Porter snapped, then took me by the hand and led me to his bedroom.
He locked the door behind us and pressed one hand against the wood, glaring at me. The other sat on his hip. His skin was covered in scrapes and bruises, presumably from climbing up and down the tree outside my window.
My own dress had two large grass stains from the trip I’d just made down the tree, when my knees made impact with the earth. The palms of my hands were scraped and burned from the bark.
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
“Why are you so angry at me?” I asked, and reached to take his hand.
He pulled it away immediately, then let out an intimidating laugh. “Who says I’m angry?”
“Are you high?”
I refused to go around in circles as he avoided what was really going on. I needed to know which Porter I was dealing with—Clean Porter who loved and adored me, a man with ambition and goals. Or Meth Porter—the Porter who hated the world and withdrew into one gigantic ball of anger.
“Maybe,” he said, looking past me.
Clearly, that really meant yes. Disappointment filled me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, along with disappointment and despair. Where was the man I’d fallen in love with?
He was gone, leaving someone else in his wake. Porter was nowhere to be found.
“You’re possessed,” I told him. “And I can’t go any further with you when you’re like this.”
“I’m not possessed, Brin. It’s called an addiction.” He rolled his eyes. “Never mind, think what you want. I’m going to hell anyway, right?”
“No.” I reached again for his hand. This time he didn’t pull away. “I don’t believe that.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Because your soul’s too beautiful for hell.”
“That’s total and utter bullshit, and you know it . . .” His voice trailed off and he broke our eye contact.
“No, it’s not. Now, please tell me what happened.”
My head raced with possibilities, and it ripped my heart apart that every single scenario involved his addiction. Did he owe someone money? Did he steal again? What had he done to cause himself such pain and despair that he’d start using again? I pushed my anger down within my gut, angry with him for choosing drugs over us, angry with him for falling into old habits.
Wasn’t I worth more than that?
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He pulled his hand away even as I fought to hold on. He then flopped onto his bed and rolled to his side, staring out the window.
“We have to, Porter. If we have any chance of making this work, you have to let me in.”
I sat down next to him and stroked his side, trying so desperately to calm and soothe. His muscles tensed beneath my fingertips.
“I can’t . . . not this.”
“I was ready to pack my bags, to leave Lehi, to leave the compound, the only life I’ve ever known. I was going to leave all of it.”
He turned over and his eyes were wide. “You were?”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Well, I certainly can’t stay with you.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because clearly I can’t count on you. You promised to get clean . . . and you’re not. And then you avoided me! You couldn’t even take a minute to text me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why? Did you lose your phone?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I was too high.” He hung his head and looked away.
“Right.” I grimaced at the idea of Porter so high that he was physically unable to type on the keys of his phone. “And now we’re back where we started, aren’t we? What happened to the man from last weekend? The man who showed me a house? The man who wanted to get out of this place?”
I threw out my arms, wildly gesturing to his disaster of a bedroom littered with dirty laundry, food wrappers, and soda cans.
“I just . . . I screwed up, okay?” His voice cracked in desperation.
“Fine, you messed up. But that doesn’t change anything.” I tapped him on the shoulder to make my point. “You have to be honest with me, even when you’re hurting like this.”
“I’m not hurting. I’m pissed off.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then tell me what you’re so angry about. Who made you so mad that you came crawling through my window in the middle of a rainstorm?”
His eyes filled with daggers, pointed directly at me. But I wasn’t about to back down.
“C’mon,” I pleaded. “You know I’m on your side. Don’t push me out of your life. Don’t make me walk away. Because I will, right here and now. I’ll walk away and never come back.”
I rose to my feet, demonstrating how serious I was. It took every ounce of strength within me to even threaten such an action. If he allowed me to leave, I’d be devastated.
Hooking my hands on my hips, I said, “I have other options when I go, ya know. I can stay with Tiffany. I’m sure she’d let me, all I have to do is ask.”
He scoffed at me. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, then turned toward the door. “I’m not bluffing, Porter. I’ll leave that place with or without you.”
“Okay, okay.”
Porter pushed himself to a seated position and took my hands in his, his fingers twitching with nervous energy. His pulse beat like rapid fire through his hot skin.
“Don’t go anywhere, all right? I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”