The Falling of Love (17 page)

The three of them spent hours hashing it out in the dining room after Grandpa Joe’s wake. That same night, he and Grace had an intense argument about his drug use. Her words replay in his mind. “If you ever, ever lay your hands on me like that again, Ian,” she said, her eyes bloodshot from tears. “I’ll leave and never come back. I love you and I can’t watch you hurt yourself, your best friend, or me. You have to stop.”

He is saved from his personal torment by a sweet, soft kiss on his cheek. “Good morning, my love,” says Grace, as she gazes up at him, her eyes glimmering with love.

He knows that she is clueless to the torture that he is going through. In Grace’s eyes, everything is back on track. She is oblivious to the internal battle that rages on inside of him. He must keep his mind focused on something other than getting high. He does not want to fail and give into temptation. He kisses Grace on her forehead and then pulls himself out of bed.

“You’re leaving me?” she asks.

“Just for a few, babe. I’ll be back before you actually wake up.” Though he wants to stay so he can focus on Grace and not his need to get high, he also wants to start trying to make up for the hell he’s put her through. With a plan in mind, he heads downstairs and straight to the backyard.

Grace stretches with deep, calming sighs. The amazing love making from last night reruns in her mind like a silent movie. The sex last night was rough and relentless. It was exciting, sometimes deliciously painful, sometimes even shocking, but the memory of their encounter last night turns her on.

Ian returns twenty minutes later and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Baby?” he questions softly.

“
Mmmmm
, you’re back,” she moans.

She slowly turns around and perks up at the sight of him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, only wearing his boxers and a serious case of sex hair, Ian holds a dinner tray filled with delicious looking food.

“You made me breakfast.” She giggles.

Ian lowers his head and chuckles. “I tried to make you breakfast,” he says, as he places the tray in her lap.

Scrambled eggs with pepper jack cheese, perfectly cooked bacon, waffles, and hot syrup sit atop the tray. At the top left of the tray, a tiny daisy sits in one of Grandpa Joe’s shot glasses.

“And you even picked me a flower.”

“I would have picked you a whole bunch, but I just couldn’t stand to be away from you any longer,” he says, with a huge grin.

She pats the spot on the bed next to her and Ian jumps in. Both of them famished from their incredible night, they finish the breakfast in record time.

Ian takes the tray over to the dresser with the empty plate on it. He pauses for a moment, and Grace wonders if he is reminiscing about the things that happened on that exact dresser just a few hours ago.

“It was amazing,” Grace says, behind him, as her mind plays the scene of him placing her on top of it and taking her there.

He turns to her and gives her a cocky smile. “I think we’ve made love on every single piece of furniture in this room.”

“I see you’ve been watching more of Jaden’s movies.” She giggles.

“Maybe a few here and there, but I don’t think I need to watch anymore, babe. I’m pretty sure I’ve got this.” He smirks.

He lies back down on the bed, his expression pained. That combined with the heavy wind he lets out, concerns her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, babe. It just gets to me here and there.

“What?”

“I still feel like I want to get high sometimes. Don’t worry, though. It’s all under control,” he says. He grabs her face with both of his hands and looks her straight in the eyes. “I’ve got this, too. I promise.”

Ian and Grace
fall
on their bed, panting, covered in sweat and the musky smell of sex.

“Gosh I love you! Could that get any fucking better?” he
screams,
his voice bouncing off their bedroom walls.

She giggles while holding onto her tummy. Ian thinks she is beyond adorable.

“I love you too, Ian. You make me feel so good.”

Grace rolls over on her side and Ian follows her lead so he faces her. He rests his arm on her side and a smile takes over his face.

“I have some news,” Grace says, cheerfully.

“Yeah?”

“Brandon and Bailey are coming to the wedding! Bailey called today to tell me. Your aunt bought them both plane tickets.”

The pleased look on Grace’s face fills him with hope. He is so thankful for the love she shows towards his brother and sister. He knows that they are just as much her concern as they are his. One of the things Ian loves most about Grace is what a caring person she is.

“How are they doing at my aunt’s?” A sudden rush of panic and worry fall over him.

Grace returns a huge warm smile to him before speaking, and rubs his arm gently. Now he knows that everything is fine and a tremendous weight is lifted from his shoulders. His siblings have always been at the back of his mind since the day he was kicked out of his home by his father. When he got the call that his aunt gained custody of them and moved them to Michigan, some of his stress was taken away, but not all of it. Now, with the smile that reaches Grace’s eyes a sense of ease falls over him.

“Bailey sounded extremely happy. They’re going to be just fine at your aunt’s.”

“Thank God. I’m so glad they’re safe. I hated that I had to leave them there to fend for
themselves
.”

Silently, Grace runs her hand over his face and stares into his eyes. Each time they lie together like this, he falls deeper in love with her.

He leans over for a quick kiss. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers.

“Me, too,” she says. “We still agree on chocolate cake with a raspberry ganache filling right?”

“Anything your beautiful heart desires,” he says, softly as he caresses her cheek. He tucks her stray hairs behind her ears.

“It’s your day too, Ian. You have to like it.”

“Babe, you know I love chocolate and you know I love raspberry. My only request is that there is no nasty fish at the wedding. I hate fish.” He crinkles his nose.

“No nasty fish,” she says, as she rolls over on her side, her back to Ian. She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and in an exhausted voice, she whispers, “I promise.”

After she falls back asleep, Ian slips out of bed and gets his boxers on. Ian heads down the stairs. The ache starts up again, in the pit of his stomach, the relentless need for more. He shakes his head, as if shaking the demons out. He walks out the front door and finds Jaden on the porch strumming his guitar quietly.

“Hey, man,” Ian says, as he takes a seat on the wicker couch next to Jaden. Watching Jaden play and sing reminds him of the night, a couple months back, when they had a conversation about drug use. Ian closes his eyes and listens to the music while his mind flashes back to their talk.

It was a night much like this one, and after spending hours tossing in bed, Ian went downstairs for a glass of water. He could hear the chords Jaden was playing coming from the front porch.

“Hey, man.” Ian said, taking a seat.

Jaden only nodded passively, as his fingers continued to strum his guitar.

“That’s really beautiful, man,” Ian said, apprehensively, because he knew that Jaden was still pissed.

Jaden looked at Ian with a blank stare and continued to strum his guitar. A few silent moments passed between them.

“I’m over being angry with you,” Jaden said. “Our friendship means way too much to me to keep ignoring you.” He reached out to give Ian a fist bump. “I love ya, even if you do some
fucked
up shit.
Y’always
be
my brotha.”

“I’m sorry, Jaden.”

“Man, no need to do this. I know you are.” After a long moment, Jaden asked, “Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“What did it feel like for you? Being high I mean.”

Ian thought about it for a second. All
the
want and need that he had been suppressing washed over his entire body.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s overwhelming. Out of control. Pure ecstasy. Like I was feeding the worst hunger I’d ever had in my life,” Ian said, fondly remembering how he felt when he was high. “It’s one of the most amazing feelings I’ve ever felt in my life, besides being in love with Grace.” He shook his head in disappointment.

“
Man, that
is exactly how I remember it. I was curious if it was the same for you.”

Ian exhaled. “It's hell. I want it so bad. I can’t stop thinking about it. It consumes my mind, but then there’s Gracie. She means more to me than getting high does.”

Ian looked off into the darkness of the field that surrounds the old home.

“She’s something else,” Jaden said, as his fingers glided over the strings of the guitar.

The two of them got lost in their thoughts for a brief minute.

“Did you ever think I would be here, in love, and engaged?” Ian asked.

“Hell no! You swore you’d never fall in love, and look at you now.”

Jaden leaned his guitar up against the wicker chair and got up to sit on the matching wicker couch with Ian. “She’s worth it, man. She’s worth fighting whatever you’re going through. And so are you.” He put his arm around Ian. “And I hope you know I’m here for you, man. I’ll always be here for you no matter what. Shit, we are all we’ve got now.” He paused. “We’re the three amigos.”

“
Tres
Amigos.
Bueno
.
Bueno
.”
Ian laughed. “I better get back to my girl. I miss her already.”

“You’ve got it bad, man, but I know why.”

“Dude, where ya off to in that head of yours?” Jaden’s words bring Ian back to the present.

“Just thinking.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, man. No worries.”

“I called your name like ten times.”

Ian smiles. “Sorry. Just got lost in my thoughts.”

“Is Grace asleep?” Jaden asks, as he leans his guitar on the chair next to him.

“Like a baby.”

Jaden nods. “Good. She needs her rest.”

“I put her through hell. I’m glad she’s finally getting to a place where she can rest peacefully.”

“You put us all through hell, Ian.”

Ian lowers his eyes so that he does not have to look into Jaden’s to see the disappointment.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yeah, you did and you have every right to come down on me. I’m such a fuck up sometimes.”

“Heroin is one of the most addicting drugs and one of the hardest to quit. At least you admit that you have a problem and that you want to change. That’s the key, man. Wanting to change.”

“I don’t even know the person that I am when I’m high. I do things I would never even think about doing when I’m…me.”

“It changes the way your brain perceives reality and what’s right and wrong. You almost can’t help it anymore.” Jaden reaches into his pocket for a lighter, then grabs a joint from the table and places it between his lips. “You should’ve gotten addicted to pot, man. It’s much better for you.” He laughs.

Ian laughs, too. “Your lungs might argue that.” Ian becomes silent again. Once more lost in his thoughts. “I’m going to head to bed,” he says, after a long moment of reflection.

“I think I’ll hit the sack, too.”

Ian walks into the kitchen intending to prepare coffee for the morning. Looking in the cabinets he realizes that they are out of coffee. He remembers that there is an old can up on top of the cupboards, so he reaches up for it, and a bag of heroin drops down. He stands still while staring at the bag of drugs lying on the kitchen floor. His mind tells him to pick it up and shoot it up before anyone catches him, and his heart tells him not to dare. He knows that he cannot leave it lying on the floor. His intention is to pick it up and throw it in the garbage disposal. Hovering over the sink with one hand clenching the small bag and one hand on the switch to turn the garbage disposal on, he fights the urges. Though his entire body is frozen, a battle of epic consequence rages on inside him.

A cat cries outside of Grace’s window and she growls as she tosses from side to side.

“Not tonight, kitty. I’m so comfortable.” She sighs. She looks to her side, and Ian is out cold. She perches herself up on her elbow, resting her head in her hand. She lies there staring at him for what seems like hours. She is studying every crease, muscle, and pore of Ian’s face. Oh, how she loves this boy’s face.

She cautiously gets out of bed and quietly gathers her large drawing pad and charcoal piece from her school bag. She tiptoes to the other side of the room and quietly grabs the old wooden chair, which she can never look at the same since she made love to Ian on it, and plants it directly in front of her sleeping love. She angles the light on his bed stand so that the beam illuminates his face, shoulders, and part of his torso.

One hand grips the charcoal piece and rapidly draws while the other pats and wipes away excess charcoal. Her instructors at UCLA all tell her that she is a natural, but thus far, her assignments have been geometrical shapes and technique. Her natural ability to capture life’s true moments is something no school could ever teach.

She sits in the chair holding up the drawing of Ian next to him as he sleeps. Her stomach drops from exhilaration. She cannot believe the likeness of her drawing compared to the flesh and blood of this handsome boy. She is overwhelmed with sense of accomplishment and pride.
I made the right choice when I came to L.A.
This portrait is my proof. I do have a purpose
. She gently lays the portrait down on Ian’s nightstand and signs her name in the bottom right corner. When she stands, exhaustion hits her like a ton of bricks. “Sheesh, 2:48 AM,” she says, aloud, but softly so as not to wake him. She quietly returns her art supplies back to her school bag and walks to the bathroom. With a little scrubbing, the evidence of charcoal is erased from her hands. She gently crawls back into bed and immediately falls asleep.

Ian groans uncomfortably as he stirs from his deep sleep. An annoying noise grates his nerves in his sleep, waking him up.
What is that?
He opens his eyes to see a large paper on his nightstand, flapping in the breeze from the open window. A foul taste takes over his mouth and sweat drips from his body. He rubs his burning eyes, which feel like they are on fire. He grabs the paper off the bedside table.

“What the fuck is this shit?” he asks in a garbled, sickly voice. There is no one to hear his complaints. It is four o’clock in the afternoon, and he realizes that Grace must be at school. He looks at the sketch of himself feeling disgusted at how she portrays him in the drawing. He is nothing like the normal, seemingly calm person in the portrait. He shakes his head at how blind she is to what is really going on inside him. He crumbles up the paper and makes a sorry attempt at landing it in the wastebasket across the room. “Fucking garbage!”

Immediately his need stuns him. He gets out of bed, grabs his leather pants from the floor, and reaches into the pocket. He pulls out a syringe, a spoon, and a lighter, then goes into the bathroom. In the bathroom he opens the medicine cabinet and pulls a cotton swab from a package and then fills a glass with a bit of water.

Ian walks back to the bed anxious to get his fix and sets his supplies on his nightstand. He craves the numbing euphoria he knows he will get once the dope spreads through his veins and into his brain. “Shit!” he yells, when he realizes that he left the baggie of heroin in his other pocket. Reaching into the pants again, he finds his drugs. He flops onto the bed and taps the baggie, spilling powder into the spoon. He flicks the lighter and lights a candle. Holding the spoon over the candle he adds water from the cup using the syringe and the mixture bubbles. Pulling the tip off the cotton swab he lets it fall into the mixture. As the cotton absorbs the liquid he licks and sucks his bottom lip. Ian wraps his bicep tightly with a thick rubber tube, and shoots the heroin into his vein.

Before he knows it he is leaning against the wall. He slides down it while the drug raptures him. Every hunger he had slowly floats away as his mind drifts off to infinite oblivion. No more aching for the intense high. No more cares. No more worries.

Ian’s eyes flutter open and a hallucination takes over. Grace is floating above him. Her face is expressionless and her posture is peculiar. Her arms are tight up against her sides, her head is slightly angled, and her normally lively green eyes appear to be solid black holes. She wears his favorite white nightgown that has heart shaped buttons that start in the middle of her chest and end at the lacey seam. It is long and flows freely just above her ankles. One of the spaghetti straps has fallen delicately onto her shoulder, but he is too angry that she interrupted his comforting serenity

“What the fuck do you want?” he asks, his voice barely making a sound. Waves of vertigo rush over his body, drowning him in his need, and pushing him back up against the wall.

Grace does not answer. She only continues to stare at him. Ian’s eyes grow heavy and his lids involuntarily shut.

“Ian!” The sound of her voice is not the sweet sound he is accustomed to. Rather it has a demonic tone.

He opens his eyes and now Grace is standing closer to him. The nightgown dirty and tainted with blood.

Ian jumps but there is nowhere for him to go because his back is crushed up against the wall. “What the hell!”

“Ian!” Her mouth is abnormally wide as the horrific sound comes from her again.

Ian rubs his eyes and closes them.