The Way Back

Falling

She sat at the piano. Her fingers hovered over the keys, unable to remember the last time she'd felt like playing or writing. There was nothing new to play, and there was nothing old she felt like playing. Stevie inhaled sharply as her hands trembled, closing her eyes tightly and exhaling slowly. She leaned forward and reached for her glass of wine atop the black Bösendorfer, hoping another glass would calm her quivering hands. Her mind was foggy but clearer than it had been. She turned sluggishly, hearing the click of Sharon's heels on the hardwood floor coming towards her. Stevie gritted her teeth as the waves of pain shot through her body. "I'm fine," she answered briskly before her dear friend could ask the question. The woman was tired of being asked. She drained the wine from her glass and set it onto the piano. "I'm fine," Stevie repeated.

"You are not," Sharon countered, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her up to the side. She raised a dark, judgmental eyebrow. "How bad is it?" she asked with concern as she moved closer and dropped to her knees, pushing Stevie's skirt up to evaluate the damage. "Let me see if I need to get another ice pack. I still think you should go to the doctor," she added.

Stevie scowled and swatted at her friend's hands. "Stop. Just stop it. It's bruised," she told her, referring to her knee. She fixed her skirt and pulled away from Sharon.

Sharon sat back, glaring and raising her hands in the air. "Fine," she spoke, voice laced with frustration.

"My ass is bruised too. Do you want to see that?" Stevie inquired angrily, understanding Sharon was simply trying to help, but she wanted to be left alone. She stood to her feet quickly, gripping the edge of the piano as she swayed, feeling lightheaded. Her obstinacy broke as she felt Sharon's arm around her waist, and Stevie leaned into her, allowing Sharon to support her. "I'm fine," she mumbled.

"Yes, you're fine. You've been fine all the times I asked. You were not fine when I came home and found you on the floor this afternoon, so we both know that you are not fine. You don't have to be so stubborn all the time."

The blonde opened her mouth but closed it. She was too exhausted and sore to argue any longer, easing into the depths of the sofa cushions. Stevie propped her hand underneath her chin and sighed as she let her body rest heavily against the armrest. She couldn't tell Sharon how many stairs she had tumbled down or how it happened. She only knew that she had mirrored a walking zombie since her Klonopin prescription had been increased three days ago. Stevie clasped her hands together and leaned against the cushions, shutting her eyes and ignoring her friend's intense gaze.

"Do you need one?" she cautiously asked, gingerly taking a spot on the sofa.

She shook her head. Her body began to mildly shake with withdrawal. She knew it would get worse. Years ago, she should have listened to herself instead of everyone else around her.

"No," she stated strongly. "It's time to stop. I'm not taking any more. I haven't in hours."

"I don't know if cold turkey is the best idea."

"Sharon, it's poison," she hissed. The fall down the stairs had been a wakeup call for her. She was lucky that she hadn't broken any bones or worse. There were a lot of things she needed to be around for in the future. She wanted to be a little old lady surrounded by yorkies and grandchildren.

"Maybe you should taper off slowly," Sharon suggested.

Stevie opened her eyes and lowered her head as she stared at her longtime friend. "I can't think. I don't know. I just," she paused, tugging at her hair and wanting to get out of her skin. "I just want to take a bath and go to bed," she admitted honestly, not caring if it was eight o'clock in the evening.