I want to knock his canted incisor back into place with my clenched fist.
Did he think I wouldn’t hear about how thirsty he was for Simone Chastain after I left Jasper’s? Trust me, I heard. He didn’t cross the line with her, but still. Everyone was stoked to fill me in on exactly how cozy they looked. At least I didn’t see all the hashtag troubleinparadise Instagrams until after I submitted my essay that night. That’s something, I guess.
What makes me feel like the worst person in the world is that I don’t care that much about losing Liam.
Not anymore.
I’m more concerned about losing face—I feel like that’s all I have left.
This is a legit crisis. I wonder, could I fend off the pending catastrophe that is our inevitable breakup? What if I went all Olivia Pope? You know, Team Proactive instead of Team Reactive? Got ahead of the story? What if I dumped Liam and not vice-versa? Would it be weird next year at Princeton to not have him as my boyfriend? I’d be on my own, but maybe that’s not a bad thing.
The applause has died down and we hold hands out of habit as Principal Gottfried escorts us off the field. As we walk past, people yell stuff like, “We love you, Liam!” and “Way to go, buddy!” and “All hail King Liam!”
No one calls my name.
With a few final waves to the crowd, the principal peels away from us to make more announcements before the second half begins. Then we’re out of the spotlight and under the bleachers, alone in the hallway by the team’s locker room.
If I’m going to be the one to end this, I should probably do it soon.
Question, though—if I’m ready to lose him like a bad habit, why do I feel like all the wind’s been knocked out of me?
Am I being impulsive? Am I overreacting out of jealousy? Am I playing it off like I don’t care to self-protect? Am I pissed because no one ever comments how cozy he and I are together anymore? Am I just a thousand percent more scattered now because of Braden?
If I’m being honest?
Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.
Of course, I could try to make us work again. We were perfect together once. We were hashtag BarbieandKen. Liam made me laugh and I gave him focus. We balanced each other. I helped him reach his true potential and I feel like he made me more approachable. He could talk to me about how his dad was so hard on him and I understood because of my mom. He’d come over so stressed-out, and after an epic hang, he’d be relaxed again, more like himself, and I’d feel better, too.
What if I’m looking at this wrong? Liam was my first love. Liam was my first. He says I was his, too, but let’s be realistic. I mean, (a) girls have been up in his grill since sixth grade, and (b) soccer camp was co-ed. Was he really a monk up there in the north woods of Wisconsin all those summers with athletic girls in tiny shorts and sweaty tank tops? In retrospect, doubtful. Also, he has too many moves for me to be his first-round draft choice. He’s all-pro, none of this amateur business. Like...the internet can only teach you so much. He’s had hands-on training.
Maybe I should just say that I’m sorry for how weird it’s been. How weird I’ve been. Recommit to us. This fall has been hard, so damn hard, and no one is himself or herself right now.
Instead of falling apart, we should come together. Be there for each other. Make MaLiam Great Again.
Like old times.
Before I can say anything, Liam pulls a prescription bottle out of his sport coat’s pocket and shoves a couple of tablets in his mouth.
“Wait, are you sick?”
Would a better girlfriend even have to ask? Wouldn’t she know?
I’ve never seen him take anything stronger than a gummy vite, yet here he is, swallowing pills dry, like he’s a junkie on The Wire or something. Seriously, I didn’t even realize someone could take meds without liquid; I thought that was just a television device when the director doesn’t want to break the flow of the scene by forcing the character to locate a water fountain. This is brand-new and seriously concerning.
A while back, Theo mentioned some teammates were self-medicating with opioids because they thought being immune to pain made them play harder. This shocked me but I’m not sure why. Everyone up here has a script for something. The few of us who aren’t diagnosed ADHD have been known to borrow an Adderall or two during midterms; it’s what you do to get through. But messing with opioids? That’s kind of hardcore.
“Where do they even get them?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” Theo replied. “Way easier to steal pills than alcohol. Everybody’s parents have Oxy or Vicodin sitting around in their bathroom. They lock the liquor cabinet, but the medicine cabinet? That’s wiiiiide open. Check out Mom and Dad’s bathroom if you don’t believe me.”
I peeked and he was right—there was a shelf full of stuff left over from when Mom had her tummy tuck...her cheek implants...her lipo. (I could go on, but you get the picture.)
Theo explained, “What’s scary is they start looking for the same high elsewhere when they can’t get more opioids. If they can’t score more from home, they go to Jasper. If he’s not holding, they head a few miles up the road for heroin, which is basically the same thing, but not controlled by the FDA. You know you can get it in pill form now?”
“What?” Again, shocker.
“Yeah, it’s true. North Shore kids won’t go near a needle because it’s low-class, but they will swallow, smoke, or snort shit all day long.”
I made Theo promise me he wouldn’t take anything. Then, for everyone’s protection, I told Dad I’d heard all about the opioid/opiate connection in an Organic Chemistry lecture. I suggested he lock our meds in the safe. I mean, I trust Theo, but his friends don’t always make wise decisions.
Obviously.
I can feel a lump forming in my throat.
Oh, please tell me Liam isn’t doing this now. Please tell me I haven’t been so self-involved that I missed the signs.
Damn it, I have, haven’t I?
When did he originally hurt his ACL? Right before school started? We’d already begun to grow apart, but then he started skipping stair sessions with me and the rift between us deepened. The timeline of us falling apart makes so much sense now. How could I have been so stupid?
What do I now? I can’t just abandon him; I owe him more than that. I care deeply for Liam and I don’t want him headed down the wrong path. He has far too much to lose. Maybe my job as his girlfriend is to be there for him, to talk him through the rough spots. Am I his antidrug?
My mind keeps flashing back to Braden, agonizing over the times he may have been reaching out and I wasn’t cognizant enough to extend the hand he needed.
I don’t want to fail again. I have to try harder.
Wait, no, do or do not, there is no try.
I’ve been digging into my research lately, trying to figure out if Braden displayed any warning signs that Theo or I should have spotted. As I replay every conversation, each interaction, I can’t put my finger on anything specific.