My Love, My Drug, My Release

Chapter 53: Break a Leg!

Wow, can't believe we're up to 100 parts, this thing is getting looooong. Thank you all for sticking through this journey with me, it means the world and a half!

I did my very best to avoid everyone I knew while at school, but even near strangers turned and whispered when I passed, a few boys even jeering at me. Some thought me a whore, others a dyke, many regressing back to the previous insults hurled at me when I first started at St. Peter's: that I was a spoiled brat blessed into fame due to who my stepmother married. Many times I was tempted to tell someone about Rosemary sleeping with Paul, but never went through with it, not just because I wouldn't want to condemn anyone else to the same derision I'd experience, but because it would probably hurt Paul more than anyone. 

Even after everything we'd been through, I instinctively wanted to protect him. This added another layer of stress to my life because Mr. Grant still held his knowledge of my affair with my step-father over my head. Now that he knew I wouldn't squeal on him, he made me get on my knees to measure my skirt at the beginning of every class, the rest of the students watching on with vindictive enjoyment. He hadn't asked me for anything yet, the anticipation of his request causing me increasingly more anxiety.

Thankfully, Mick gave me some powdered heroin to take to school, which I snorted in the bathroom. In a rare moment of maturity, he decided it would be irresponsible to give me syringes; if I wanted it intravenously, I'd have to visit him, which I frequently did.

Just when I thought I was officially off the cheer team, I received a call from Rosemary late Thursday afternoon.

"Where have you been?" she demanded with none of her usual refinement. "You've missed every practice this week."

"I thought you didn't want me around."

"You're correct in that assessment, but we need you for our Spirit Day performance."

"Can't someone else learn the choreography?"

"No, believe me, we've tried." After a pregnant pause, she sighed loudly. "Listen, all we need you to do is show up tomorrow, do the routine, and then you never have to speak to any of us ever again."

"Alright," I conceded. "See you tomorrow." I hung up, pressing my forehead against the fridge, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"Are you okay?" Linda asked, coming up beside me and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I turned around, forcing a smile. Mary was in her arms, sleeping, face smushed up in the crook of Linda's neck. I extended my hands, asking to hold the baby and my stepmother passed her over carefully, reminded me of how to cradle the head, even though I remembered perfectly well. When Mary was first born, it was difficult for me to look at her, let alone hold her. She used to remind me of the child I'd terminated, the life I could have with Brandon, but after a few months, those feelings passed. We wouldn't have made each other happy, not in the long run, and I couldn't possibly raise a child at thirteen. But it was nice to have another baby around, a child I could hold and rock and sing to and love.

"I'm going to let Paul sleep here again," she said. I nodded but didn't speak. "Judging by your lack of reaction, I'm guessing he's been coming by to see you and Mary despite my wishes."

"Linda, I was going to tell you-"

She held up her hand, not cruelly, but it silenced me all the same. "It's fine, Lo, I understand why you'd want him back. Honestly, I've been a wreck spending so much time apart as well." She took a step closer to me. "I know he feels horrible about what he did, and wishes he could take it back; I hope we can all forgive him in time."