Lead Me Not

chapter twenty-five

aubrey

after our day in the snow, I thought we had hit a turning point in our relationship. Even after my inability to verbalize my feelings, we had a wonderful evening together.

We had gone back to Maxx’s apartment, and he had made me dinner. He had obviously taken the time to straighten up his small apartment and had even vacuumed the carpet.

He had put a lot of effort into making the night special. I had helped him mix the sauce and make the salad. Then we had eaten his overcooked pasta and slightly burned garlic bread by the light of a dozen candles.

After cleaning up, Maxx had suggested we watch a movie. He had been careful in his selection, choosing The Doom Generation as an homage to our first date. I had misted up at his romantic sentiment.

Without bothering to watch the movie, I had dragged him back to his room and made quick work of removing our clothing. We made love until the early hours of the morning.

Everything had been so beautiful in its ease and simplicity. And I clutched at those moments greedily, scared that they would slip through my fingers.

Because the nature of our relationship wasn’t one of quiet happiness. And the weeks following our one amazing day together had shown me that we were destined for something much darker.

Because Maxx kept disappearing. He would slip away without my realizing it, and I would be left in a dark torment, worrying about what he was doing, what drugs he was taking, what ways he was destroying himself.

When we were together and he was touching me, I tried to ignore the anxious awareness that this was temporary, that when our breathing had slowed and the sweat had dried he’d leave me again. But I kept coming back for more.

Maxx overtook me.

He overwhelmed me.

I was drowning.

The moments of happiness when we were together felt bittersweet because they never lasted long enough.

I knew where he was going, I wasn’t stupid. But Maxx deftly evaded my questions when I asked them. But I never pushed too hard. I never grilled too much.

If I was being honest with myself, I simply didn’t want the confirmation that he was still selling, still using, still screwing up his life in the worst way imaginable. I was terrified that if my suspicions were confirmed beyond a doubt, I’d be forced to make a decision about our relationship. And I was worried that my choice would make me hate myself.

I was worried that I’d follow him wherever he wanted to lead me.

A strong part of me still wanted to go back to Compulsion. Even though I now knew the reality of what that place was and its role in Maxx’s world, I could still remember the thrill I felt when I was inside. The temptation was tantalizing.

So I stuck my head in the sand and tried to carry on as though this dark hole in his life didn’t exist.

Some days Maxx was the perfect boyfriend. He was romantic. He was doting. He loved me with all that he had. We laughed and talked together and lived in stolen moments of pure joy. He tried so hard to give me everything I needed.

But not the only thing that I would ever really want: for him to stop—the drugs, the club, all of it.

I knew he wouldn’t. So I never asked him to, knowing his answer would break my heart. There were times when he was lucid, his blue eyes clear. He didn’t shake or sweat or double over from the nausea of withdrawal. I could almost convince myself that the beast had been slain, that the worries in the back of my mind were unfounded.

But the worries were there nonetheless, rooted in a painful reality that was never far from the bubble we were trying to survive in.

Maxx wouldn’t talk to me about the club or anything that had to do with that part of his life. I hated it. I didn’t want Maxx to hide things from me, even the ugly parts that I wished weren’t real.

And while he kept so much of himself shrouded in secrecy, I knew that he loved me. And even though I had yet to verbally return the sentiment, Maxx never wasted a moment to tell me how he felt.

I love you sat on the tip of my tongue. And when I’d be ready to give it voice, Maxx would leave again, and I would be left with the black, twisted worries that were becoming all too familiar.

“Well, if it isn’t my roommate! I was beginning to think I’d have to fill out a missing-person report,” Renee teased as I came into the apartment after class on Thursday. I hadn’t seen much of Renee over the past few weeks. And I had missed her. While I lived my roller coaster, I wanted so much to confide in her the way I used to be able to. Even though we were crawling slowly back to a more comfortable form of our earlier friendship, I wasn’t sure I was ready to share my painful situation.

She looked happier. The bruises from Devon’s fists were long gone, and I could tell she had started to put on some much-needed weight. Her skin had a healthy glow, and she was starting to dress in some of her old clothes.

This alone was proof that Devon was no longer in the picture.

“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes, dropping my book bag on the floor. I had just gone by Maxx’s apartment, hoping to see him before class. Of course he hadn’t been there. I had waited for twenty minutes, but he hadn’t shown up. I had left only when it started raining.

“When was the last time you spent the night here? I was beginning to think I lived by myself,” Renee said, closing the book she had been reading and putting it on the couch beside her.

When I didn’t say anything, she gave me a small smile.

“So who’s the guy, and why haven’t I met him yet?” she asked, following me into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. Popping the top, I took a long drink, thinking about how I was going to answer her.

I continued to live in a constant state of paranoia about being found out. I agonized over what would happen should the wrong person see Maxx and me together. I invented horrific scenarios in my head about the moment when my entire world would implode and my dreams would be dashed to the floor.

I put my soda can down on the counter and let out a sigh. Renee crossed her arms over her chest and regarded me steadily. Despite how much our friendship had changed over the past year, she still knew me better than most anyone.

“What’s wrong? Is it this guy?” she asked, sounding concerned. I sighed again. Renee frowned.

“Take it from me, no guy is worth making you feel like shit,” she stated firmly.

I leaned against the cabinets, bracing myself against the counter. “I think I love him,” I said quickly, shocking myself. The words had slipped out without my usual resistance restraining them. I covered my mouth with my hand as though I could shove the words back inside where they were safe. But now that they were out, there was no putting them back.

Renee blinked in surprise. “Huh? You love a guy I’ve never even met? Someone you never mention at all? Sorry, but I find that hard to believe,” she scoffed, cocking her eyebrow at me in disbelief.

“I can’t talk about him, Renee,” I begged, hoping she’d let it go. But there was no walking away from it now.

“Uh-uh, you and I are long overdue for a good, long girl talk. Grab the ice cream, I’ll get the chips, and we’re parking our asses on the couch,” Renee instructed, and I couldn’t help but smile. After keeping secrets for so long, I found myself looking forward to letting some of them go.

I pulled two pints of Ben & Jerry’s out of the freezer and met her in the living room.

“You need to start at the beginning and go from there. Why is this relationship so secret? It’s not like you,” Renee said as we settled on the couch.

I put a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth, hoping the resulting brain freeze would knock some sense into my otherwise thick skull.

“He’s in the support group I help to facilitate,” I admitted, confessing my sins quickly. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid—better to do it all at once.

Renee’s eyes widened. “Well, that can’t be good,” she observed.

“Uh, no, it’s really bad actually,” I mumbled, scooping more ice cream into my mouth.

“Well, the secretiveness makes sense now,” Renee mused, putting the Ben & Jerry’s aside to start on a bag of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips.

“It started before I realized anything was going on. He sort of snuck up on me, and then it was like a full-blown meltdown. Does that make any sense?” I asked. Actually talking about my relationship with Maxx made me realize how reckless the entire situation was.

“Completely,” Renee answered, grimacing. I knew she was thinking about Devon, and not for the first time, I felt guilty for how judgmental and unsympathetic I had been about her feelings for her ex. I now understood how difficult it could be to let go of someone you cared about, even if you knew he was bad for you.

“Brooks knows,” I said.

Renee surprised me by rolling her eyes. “Good. He needs a reality check.”

“Huh?” I asked.

Renee handed me the chips. “That guy has been panting after you for entirely too long. It’s embarrassing to watch.”

I shook my head. “No way. We’re just friends. We’ve been there, done that, got the crappy T-shirt,” I argued.

Renee rolled her eyes again, making me feel as though I had missed something glaringly obvious. “Well, you’re blind then. Because that boy wants a return ticket on the Aubrey Duncan express train straight into your panties. You guys have known each other . . . biblically. There is no way you can go from that to friendship without having all sorts of complicated shit under the surface. And Brooks Hamlin wants you . . . bad. So I say, good! He needed something major to make him move the hell on,” Renee remarked, not unkindly.

Her crass observation brought a whole new level of complication to an already convoluted equation. Was Renee right? Of course she was right. Deep down I had suspected the same thing for a while now.

“But he knows. And if you’re right and he’s got these unrequited feelings, what’s to stop him from telling someone?” I moaned.

Renee didn’t say anything. There was no need to point out the obvious: If I was so worried about repercussions, I shouldn’t be doing it in the first place. If I really cared about my future, I should end things with Maxx and forget about him.

But that would make things entirely too simple. And clearly my heart didn’t like simple.

Renee reached out and stroked the back of my head. “I honestly don’t think Brooks would do that to you. He’s your friend, Aubrey. You would never have gotten close to him if you thought him capable of such bitchy behavior.” Again, my suddenly wise roommate was right. I couldn’t imagine Brooks being so hateful.

Then again, it was hard to forget the anger and hurt on his face when he realized what was going on between Maxx and me. The truth was, I just didn’t know who and what to trust anymore.

“I wish I could tell you what to do, but if you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the best one to give relationship advice. I can only tell you to be careful. I don’t want to see you getting hurt,” Renee continued, giving me a look full of sympathy.

Oh, how times had changed. Not too long ago I was bestowing those particular looks on her. I had sunk so low.

Before I could drop to the floor in a flood of self-pity, Renee’s phone dinged, letting her know she had a text message. She picked it up off the coffee table and read it, her face contorting in a mixture of anger and fear.

“What is it?” I asked, watching as she hastily deleted the message.

Renee forced a smile and tucked the phone into her pocket. “It’s nothing,” she lied.

I narrowed my eyes at her, and she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s just Devon,” she replied.

“Devon? I thought you guys were done?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t missed a major shift in my roommate’s circumstances while I had been wrapped up in Maxx.

“Oh, we’re done. He’s just having a hard time accepting it,” she muttered.

“What did his text say?” I asked. Given Devon Keeton’s stellar personality, I could hazard a guess at the contents.

“Nothing, really. He just has a fondness for some not-so-nice words.” She shrugged again.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say something nasty about her ex. But I stopped myself. Renee was holding strong, though I worried about how long that would last. And I knew my hateful remarks wouldn’t help anything, even if they made me feel better. Looking at Renee, I could see how much Devon and their relationship had taken their toll. But she still loved him. I could see that plain as day. And that love was hurting her.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I was in a similar situation. My feelings for Maxx were causing me to make decisions I never would have made in the past. I was forgetting about everything that had mattered to me, potentially throwing it all away to save a boy I was pretty sure didn’t want to be saved.

Love made us stupid.

Love made us blind.

Love could incapacitate us and leave us powerless.

And love could also make everything better.

I couldn’t let myself think anything else.

But Renee’s love had come close to destroying her. It hadn’t fixed anything. There was a new realization in my friend’s eyes that had never been there before.

I reached out and squeezed her hand, offering support, which ultimately is all that any of us wants. She tried to smile, but her mouth twisted into more of a grimace.

“I’ve got to head to the library. Will you be here tonight?” Renee asked.

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. Because I knew if I could find Maxx, I wouldn’t be coming home. Already, I was twitchy and anxious to be with him again. We had been together just that morning, yet here I was fidgeting and restless like a junkie needing my fix.

Maxx was my drug.

Renee’s lips turned upward in a sad smile. “Just don’t get dragged down by him, Aubrey. Learn from my mistakes,” she cautioned. I wanted to blow off her statement, but I couldn’t. She was right.

After Renee left, I gave in and tried to call Maxx again. And again he didn’t answer. I thought about leaving a message but decided against it. He’d see that I had called. I only hoped he’d call me back.

I couldn’t sit around my apartment waiting for my phone to ring. It was sad and pathetic. I had things I should be doing. I had work that needed to be done. I had been neglecting school in the past few weeks, and I would have to work my ass off to get back on track.

I gathered my book bag, trying not to focus on the state of my bedroom, which also had been neglected due to my obsession with Maxx. The amount of dust had me fleeing quickly.

Once on campus, I headed for the back entrance of the psychology building. I had forgotten to check Dr. Lowell’s symposium schedule for the week, and I didn’t want to make things worse for myself by not showing up to the class.

I hoped I wouldn’t run into my adviser, but I should have known I wouldn’t be that lucky. The universe seemed to be turning up its middle finger in my direction lately.

“Aubrey! Come in and talk to me for a minute,” Dr. Lowell called out as I tried to slip into the reception area outside her office without being noticed. Clearly I needed to work on my stealth skills.

Facing my professor, whom I had a lot of respect for, knowing I was betraying the confidence she had in me, was a new kind of torture. I was fearful she’d look at me and know all my secrets.

I hated that this shiny new love I felt for Maxx also brought with it immeasurable amounts of guilt and shame. Why couldn’t Maxx and I have met under different circumstances?

But a part of me knew that a lot of what drew me to Maxx was the messy chaos inside him that had landed him in the group in the first place.

God, what did that say about me? Maybe it wasn’t Maxx who was the truly messed-up one? It was apparent my issues were just as damaging.

I walked into Dr. Lowell’s office and stood awkwardly inside the door. My professor looked up and gestured for me to have a seat. I scrutinized her face, looking for displeasure or anger. I was festering in my own distrust.

“Just give me a moment to finish this,” Dr. Lowell said, sorting through a pile of papers.

While I waited, I looked around the office I had spent so much time in. I could remember taking my first class with Dr. Lowell my freshman year. Psychology 101 hadn’t been the most riveting class, but I had loved Dr. Lowell’s teaching style. She had a way of inciting passion in her students that was awe-inspiring.

I had been lost and miserable that first year, after losing Jayme. My relationship with my parents was strained. I was hundreds of miles from home, and I was alone. I had cut ties with all my friends from high school and hadn’t been looking to make any new connections with anyone.

But somehow, Dr. Lowell had seen something in me and had quickly taken me under her wing. I respected her refusal to make or accept excuses for anything. I had been drawn to her gruff yet kind personality and the way she expected me to hold myself accountable but be ever mindful of my grief.

She nurtured my desire to be a counselor. She guided me down the path I had chosen. She was my mentor. My adviser. My favorite professor. And the thought of letting her down made me sick to my stomach. I was terrified of looking in her eyes one day and seeing disappointment.

Finally, Dr. Lowell gave me her attention, and I almost sagged in relief when I saw her smile. This wasn’t someone who was unhappy to see me. On the contrary, she seemed pleased.

“I don’t want to keep you, Aubrey. I know you must be busy. I just wanted to take a moment to tell you I’ve heard such great things from Kristie about group,” Dr. Lowell said, shocking me.

“Really? I was pretty sure that after my screw-up I had been written off,” I said, making Dr. Lowell laugh.

“I think she’s gotten over it. Kristie can be a tough sell. She comes across nice enough, but she’s pretty inflexible about things. So the fact that she’s come around is a huge compliment.”

The praise didn’t bring with it the warm glow of pride it normally would have. No. In fact, it made me feel worse. What would Dr. Lowell and Kristie say when they realized how inappropriate I was actually being? I shuddered at the thought of their faces if the truth ever came out.

So why wasn’t that enough to make me walk away?

Because I suffered from my own addiction, which sucked away all logic.

“Thank you,” was all I could squeak out. Dr. Lowell beamed at me, and I wanted to flee. Run away. Now.

“Check my schedule on the door, and put yourself down for a one-on-one after group is over. We can talk about how things went and look at options for your next volunteer placement,” my professor instructed, dismissing me.

I didn’t say a word as I got to my feet. I hurried out of the office and did as Dr. Lowell requested. I already dreaded the meeting.

I should go to the library. I had a mountain of work to catch up on, but right then I just wanted to get off campus. I wanted to go to Maxx’s apartment and submerge myself in the feelings I experienced only when he touched me.

I pushed through the doors that led out onto the academic quad. I rushed down the sidewalk and came up short. The sight of color at my feet caught my attention. I looked up and saw that the entire length of the pavement was covered in a drawing.

I backed up so I could get a better look at what was an elaborate kaleidoscope of images. At the center were two figures that looked like marionettes on strings. Their joints were depicted as jagged, bloody seams held together by nuts and bolts. The strings holding them up disappeared into a thick, raging fire above them.

The marionettes were clutched together, their awkward limbs trying to hold on to one another. The ground below them was giving way, crumbling and disappearing. The long blond hair of the female puppet was wrapped up in flowers that obscured her face, the fair strands an intricate weaving of the letter X.

While I stood there, transfixed by the strange yet unbelievably beautiful image, water hit the tip of my nose, followed by more drops on my cheek. Looking up, I saw clouds moving in and watched with sadness as rain flooded the drawing on the sidewalk, erasing it.

It seemed such a shame for something so amazing, something someone clearly spent a long time creating, to be ruined by a rain shower.

I hadn’t prepared for the turn in weather, so I stood there in the downpour, getting soaked. I watched with morbid fascination as the vibrant colors mixed together, washing down the pathway. The two puppets, locked in their passionate yet uncomfortable embrace, faded away until there was nothing left.

“Why can’t he just draw on paper like a normal person?” a hateful voice asked from behind me.

Brooks stood beside me, moving his umbrella so that it shielded me from the rain. I hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, not since our confrontation after support group. He continued to sit there week after week, but he hadn’t initiated any sort of interaction since. Nevertheless, I felt him watching me closely. And he wasn’t the only one. I knew that others were watching me as well, which didn’t help my paranoia, which was already near the breaking point.

The marionettes were completely gone. “I thought you liked X’s paintings,” I remarked, still not taking my eyes away from the rain-soaked pavement.

Brooks snorted. “It’s like that club, just a delusional waste of time. Sure, it looks pretty, but it only hides a heart that’s rotten to the core,” he spat out. I knew he wasn’t talking about the painting.

“Why so bitter, Brooks? It takes a lot of talent to create something like this,” I argued, shivering from the cold and the wet clothes clinging to my skin.

The rain beat down on the umbrella, pouring in rivulets around us, splashing my shoes and jeans as it hit the ground.

Brooks shook his head. “I get it, Aubrey. It’s easy to be distracted by something like this. But don’t forget the ugliness underneath. It may be nice to look at, but it’s only paint, and it washes away eventually.”

Brooks’s metaphors were making my head hurt. But his meaning was crystal freaking clear. If I had wondered about the state of our friendship before, I didn’t now. I could practically taste his disapproval.

I stepped out from underneath the protection of his umbrella. I looked up into my former friend’s eyes and saw nothing of the kind, compassionate man I used to see.

“I feel bad for you, Brooks. It’s so easy to criticize what you don’t even try to understand. To pass judgment without looking at what’s really there. I’m sorry if I haven’t lived up to the expectations you had for me. That I disappointed you. But I had to come down off that pedestal eventually.” Brooks opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but then shook his head.

“I’m sorry too, Aubrey,” he said sadly.

I looked down at the ruined painting again. All that was left was a puddle of color in the grass.

“You’ll miss out on some amazing things in life if you can’t look past your nose to see the beauty that’s out there in the most unconventional places. And complexity isn’t ugliness. It’s the complication that makes it worth it,” I said softly, turning and walking away.

I pulled out my phone and tried calling Maxx again. No answer. I was freezing, the tips of my fingers going numb. But I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I couldn’t be on campus.

There was only one place I belonged. Only one person I needed.

So I walked the four and a half blocks to find him.

And when he wasn’t there, I waited.

I’d always wait for Maxx.