Beautiful Burn by Jamie McGuire

  "It depends. What did you put in that shot?"

  "Nothing fun, unless you're making a request."

  "I'll just take another drink."

  Paige signaled to Annie, who nodded.

  "Where's your boy?" Paige asked, lifting her leg to climb onto the stool to my right. She was wearing tight jeans and a tank top under a flannel shirt, showing off her curves and cleavage all while staying warm.

  "Not here," I said, throwing back the next shot Annie sat before me.

  "Hey," Paige said with a giggle. "Wait for me." She lifted her chin and the dark liquid left the glass, emptying down her throat. She placed the glass upside down and slid it toward Annie, ordering two doubles.

  I drank them as fast as Annie could make them. Finally, Paige cut me off. "You're going to drink my paycheck. I came in with a fifty, and it's gone."

  "Thank you," I said, holding up my empty tumbler.

  "Pace yourself," Jojo said. "When Dad falls off the wagon, it's easier for him to climb back on without a hangover."

  "I'm already hungover," I said. "Or I was ... six drinks ago."

  "You're keeping track?" Paige asked. "That's impressive."

  Jojo snorted. "Only counting to six would be impressive to you, Miley Cyrus."

  "Why did you bring her to a bar if she's on the wagon, Jojo?" Paige asked, leaning forward.

  "Why did you bring her Crown to her house? Why are you buying her shots now? I just wanted to have a couple of drinks and chat, not get her wasted so I could talk her into ungodly things."

  "You sure?" Paige asked with a sweet smile.

  "Go fuck yourself, Paige."

  "Now, ladies," I said, smiling when I felt the warmth settling into my muscles. "No need to fight over who is the best enabler."

  "It's not funny," Annie said, glaring at us with her round, chocolate eyes while she furiously dried a glass. "You're both assholes if she was trying to get sober." She looked at me. "You're cut off, Ellie. Get the hell out of here."

  My mouth fell open. "What did I do?"

  "You let me serve drinks to an alcoholic. I better not see you in here again or I'll call Wick. Jojo ... shame on you."

  Jojo made a face. "Oh, please. Like Daddy doesn't come in here and get drunk when he fights with Mom."

  "Not for a long time," Annie said, her shoulder-length brown curls shaking as she scolded and worked at the same time. "Take her home."

  "Okay ... okay, we're going," I said, standing to gather my things.

  "I'll take you home," Paige said.

  "No." I shook my head. "You still haven't apologized for New Year's Eve."

  Paige took a step toward me, six inches too far into my personal space. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

  She leaned in, tilted her head, and pressed her lips to mine. The snowboarders in the corner cheered like their favorite hockey team had just scored.

  "Buy those girls a drink!" one of them yelled, pointing at us.

  I looked to Annie, but she pointed to the door.

  Paige led me out by the hand, but once we stepped into the alley, she backed up against the wall and yanked me toward her. Her tongue ring banged against my teeth, her hands firmly on each side of my face.

  I heard someone giggle to my left, and I turned to a woman in the same position as Paige, pulling Sterling's face against hers. Her knee was hitched to his hip.

  His red-rimmed eyes drifted, and when he recognized me, I could see that he was just as drunk as I was, if not more. We watched each other for a long time, and then Sterling's friend pulled him to face her again, demanding his attention.

  Paige tried to do the same, but I backed away.

  "Ellie?" Paige said, confused.

  I walked toward the street, passing Sterling and his new friend and turning right toward downtown. I stopped on the corner, looking down when a police cruiser rolled by. The light changed, and I hurried across the street to the only twenty-four-hour convenience store in town.

  "Bathroom?" I asked.

  The clerk pointed to the back, and I ran.

  "Hey. Hey! No puking in there!"

  I burst through the door and leaned back against it, sliding down to the floor. Pieces of toilet paper and paper towels were lying all around me, and I could feel the ass of my jeans getting wet from one of the many small puddles on the floor. I reached back for my phone, my thumb hovering over the display.

  Before I could change my mind, I pressed the last name I ever thought I'd dial--a number Finley had programmed into my phone three months before.

  It rang twice before she picked up. "Ellison? My God, it's so good to hear from you."

  "Sally," I began. "I'm in the bathroom of a convenience store. I think it's the only open one in town."

  "Where?"

  "Estes Park. I'm going to need a car to the nearest rehabilitation center. I've tried to stop drinking ... I've..." I took a deep breath. "I can't do it on my own. I'm drunk right now."

  "Someone will be there in fifteen minutes. Sit tight, Ellison. We're going to get you well."

  I set the alarm on my phone and waited on the dirty floor. Before the chime went off, the clerk knocked on the door.

  "Hey, lady? You all right in there?"

  "I'm okay," I said, sniffing. I crawled over to the far wall and pulled some toilet paper off the roll, wiping my eyes between sobs.

  "There's a guy out here. Says he's picking you up."

  I scrambled to my feet, stunned by my reflection in the mirror. Twin thick black streaks of mascara stained my cheeks from my eyes to my jaw line. My hair was in rats, my eyes dull and glassed over. I yanked open the door to see Tyler standing next the clerk, looking very large next to the short, scrawny boy.

  He sighed, relieved. "Ellison ... I've been looking everywhere."

  I wiped my hands on my jeans and tried to walk out without stumbling. Tyler followed me outside, ready to catch me if I fell. He draped his army jacket over my shoulders and fidgeted.

  "I'm so fucking sorry," he blurted out. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean anything I said."

  "I know."

  "No," he said, reaching for me. "No, you don't know. You don't have a fucking clue how much I love you. I'm just ... I'm out of ideas. Things were so good before my birthday. I just want to get back there somehow."

  I swayed backward, but he pulled me against his side.

  "How much have you had to drink?" he asked.

  "A lot," I said, my bottom lip trembling. "I saw Sterling."

  Tyler's expression changed from worry to rage. "Where? Did he say something to you? How did you get here? Him?"

  I shook my head and crossed my arms. "I walked."

  "Jesus, Ellie, it's freezing."

  "I don't want to be like him."

  "Sterling?" he asked, caught off guard. "You're not. You're nothing like him."

  "I'm exactly like him. I'm a drunk, selfish asshole who cares about no one." I turned to Tyler. "I can't love you. I don't even love myself."

  Tyler looked like the air had been knocked out of him. He shrugged. "What am I supposed to say to that? You keep knocking me down and I keep getting back up, thinking one of these times you'll stop throwing punches. I love you. And I know you love me, but ... I'm not a punching bag. I don't know how much more I can take."

  "It's not up to you to save me. I have to do it myself. Somewhere else."

  He blanched. "What are you talking about?"

  A black car pulled up, and the driver stepped out. "Miss Edson?"

  I nodded.

  Tyler frowned. "Who the fuck is that?"

  "My ride."

  "I can take you. Where are you going?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Who is he? Does he work for your parents?"

  "Not exactly," I said. Sally knew as well as I did that my parents would pay for any ride taking me to rehab.

  I pulled off his jacket, but he held out his hand. "Keep it. Bring it back to me when you come home."

&nbs
p; I reached for his face, leaning up on the balls of my feet to kiss him, and he threw his arms around me, closing his eyes tight and holding me like it was the last time.

  "Come back," he said against my lips, keeping his eyes closed.

  "What if I come back different? What if it takes a long time?"

  He shook his head. "I've loved every version of you there's ever been. I'll love whoever comes back."

  My face crumbled, and I nodded, waving goodbye.

  The driver stood next to his car, opening the door when he saw me heading toward him. He shut the door as I slid into the backseat. The leather and new car smell reminded me of my other life, of the old Ellison who wouldn't have noticed that she was dirty while the car was so clean. I didn't belong in that car, or that life, but there I sat, willing to submit so that I could fully heal.

  "Buckle up, Miss Edson," the driver said. "We have a long drive."

  I nodded, reaching for the shoulder strap and pulling it across. I wasn't sure where the driver was taking me, but I cried the whole way there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The cold stone railing felt good against my palms as I steadied myself on the balcony of my private room. The ocean was calm that day, finally settled after a week of storms. The waves calmed me at night, and the salt in the air made me feel safe, but I was leaving. I still had to face my sister, and Tyler, and the boys. I had apologies to make, and a lot more work to do.

  A soft knock prompted me to walk across the marble floor. I tightened the belt of my cream silk robe and reached for the brass handle. My stay at Passages was like a luxury vacation. When I first arrived, I thought it was another attempt for my family to buy my sobriety, but I had learned so much, and changed even more. My heart was healed and my soul was at ease--at least in the confines of the walls of the most luxurious rehabilitation center in the world.

  Sally walked in with my counselor, Barb, holding a cupcake and a certificate. Sally winked at me, aware of how lame the certificate was, but it meant that I was going home. She hugged me, her genuine pride evident in her embrace. We had spent a lot of late nights in private talks during my sixty-day stay, and she had somehow convinced my parents to respect my boundaries while supporting my rehabilitation with grace and money, even though their demands to see me were repeatedly refused.

  Barb had already filled out the discharge papers, and handed me a pen. I read over the large print and small print, and then signed. Sally patted my right hand as I scribbled with my left, and then I said my goodbyes to Barb.

  When my counselor left the room, Sally shot me her signature lips-pressed-together smile, pride practically radiating from her hooded eyes. Sally wasn't at all the snake in the grass I had thought her to be. Now that I was sober, it was easier to see people for who they really were. A clear head helped to distinguish who wanted the best for me and would fight me to reach that goal, and those who had good intentions but would be the first to enable me--like my parents. I wasn't strong enough to see them yet, and even though it was hard to take anything from them knowing the damage I'd caused our family, I was committed to my sobriety, and their support would mean the difference between success and a relapse. I had to swallow my pride and accept any helpful support those who loved me would give.

  Sally rode with me to the airport, and then hugged me goodbye with a promise to check in often. I fought my resentment about riding in first-class, wearing new clothes and the expensive perfume Finley had sent me. I was so far from the sloppy drunk I had been just two months before, and even the ash-covered, smelly adventure photographer I loved to be, but everything looked different sober, even me.

  Just as the plane taxied to the runway, my phone lit up, and Finley's face kissing at me shone bright on the display.

  She had come to Passages just once, long enough for us to have a three-hour counseling session and dinner. She'd tearfully admitted to me that she'd walked past Falyn into the apartment, seeing a picture of me on the nightstand and assuming it was Tyler she was crawling into bed with. She recalled him calling her Falyn when she settled into the bed, but she was so jealous and hurt she could only think of retaliation. She was too ashamed to speak to me after that--until the day she sat in a beautiful room with beautiful flowers, marble floors, and expensive paintings chosen to promote calm and comfort while our ugliest sins spilled from our mouths.

  "Hello?" I said, holding the phone to my ear. "Getting ready to take off, Fin."

  "You should call Tyler. He's a little anxious."

  "That makes two of us."

  "He wants to see you."

  "I want to see him, too. I'm just not sure if it should be tonight."

  "He wants to pick you up from the airport. Jose can do it. It's completely up to you."

  "I'm a recovering alcoholic, Fin, not a child."

  "I'm sorry. I'll tell Jose to meet you in baggage claim at seven-thirty."

  "It's okay. Driving from Denver will make for a nice chat."

  "With Tyler?" she asked.

  "Yes. I have to go, Fin. I love you."

  "I love you, too, Elliebee."

  I pressed END and placed my phone in the console between me and the older gentleman in a Prada suit and eyeglasses. He reminded me a bit of Stavros, the bartender from the Colorado Springs hotel, with his silver hair and style. As the plane took off, I thought about my last moments with Tyler, the choices that I had spent sixty days trying to let go, and the way Tyler had looked at me. I wondered if he would see me that way, as the weak, lost little girl he had to babysit. Ellie three-point-oh was neither weak nor lost, but she was carrying a lot of guilt and not enough forgiveness.

  When the wheels set down in Denver, my head fell forward, my chin sliding off my fist. I smacked my lips, taking a sip of water as the flight attendant began her speech about disembarkation procedures. Once the plane came to a full stop and a bell chimed over the PA system, seat belts clacked in quick succession, sounding like the clicking of a keyboard, and then the rustle of everyone standing at the same time resonated throughout the fuselage. I had checked all of my belongings, so I squeaked past the silver-haired businessman and stood in the aisle, waiting for the door to open.

  The walk up the jetway seemed longer than usual, as did the train ride to the baggage claim terminal. Everything felt different--I felt different. When I reached the escalator and ascended to baggage claim, I saw Tyler standing at the bottom, getting shouldered and nudged by people getting off the stairs and passing by. He looked up at me, never pulling his gaze away until I was standing in front of him.

  "Hi," he said, nervous.

  "Thanks for coming all the way here to pick me up."

  "I've been everywhere and called everyone to find out where you went. I was going to be here when you came home."

  Someone pushed from the back, forcing me to take a step forward.

  "Hey," Tyler said, pushing the guy back. He guided me farther away from the top of the escalator, and the warmth of his fingers on my skin made me more emotional than I'd anticipated. "I didn't realize two months could feel like such a long time."

  "Probably because you didn't have a coat," I said, handing him his jacket.

  He looked down at the fabric in his hands. "I'd forgotten about the coat. Couldn't forget about you."

  "Just needed some time to get my shit straight," I said.

  Tyler smiled, seeming relieved at my choice of words. I was wearing the cream dress and tall, high-heeled suede boots Finley had sent. My hair fell in soft waves to the middle of my back, smoke free and clean. I looked very different from the last time he'd seen me, but he appeared reassured that I at least sounded the same.

  The conveyor belt buzzed, alerting the passengers from the flight just before it began to move. They crowded around the baggage carousel.

  "Here," Tyler said, taking me by the hand and leading me closer. Bags were already tumbling to the long oval that surrounded the chute. My bag was the third, the handle wrapped in a bright red priority
tag.

  Tyler lifted the large luggage without effort, then extended the handle. "It's a hike," he said, apologetic.

  "We've hiked together before."

  "Yes, we have," he said with a smile. He was still nervous, quiet, as we made the journey to the parking garage. Denver International wasn't the easiest airport to navigate, but Tyler was focused, getting me to his truck as quickly as he could.

  Once he loaded my bag into the back seat, he opened my door and helped me climb in. My high-heeled boots made it difficult, but with one arm, Tyler lifted me into my seat.

  He jogged around, hopped into his seat, and twisted the key in the ignition. He fussed with the air conditioner and then looked to me for approval.

  "Yes, it's good ... I'm fine."

  Tyler backed out and navigated the maze of the parking garage until we saw daylight.

  "So, uh," he began. "Guess who's going to be a daddy?"

  I craned my neck at him, bracing myself.

  "No! Oh fuck, no, not me. Taylor," he said, laughing nervously. "Taylor's going to be a daddy. I'm gonna be an uncle."

  I breathed out. "Great! That's great. How exciting. Jim must be thrilled."

  "Yeah, he's pretty stoked."

  I nodded, turning toward the window and closing my eyes, exhaling slowly. I'd been looking forward to seeing him for so long, and not knowing what to expect, I was already emotional and feeling frazzled. I tried to do the breathing exercises I'd learned while away.

  The tires buzzed against the road, the tone sounding a bit higher when we reached the highway and Tyler kicked up the speed. Waiting for him to have the inevitable conversation about my sudden departure was too much pressure, so I decided to do it myself.

  "Tyler..."

  "Wait," he said, wringing his hands on the steering wheel. "Let me explain."

  I swallowed, worried that it was going to be much worse than I had imagined the last eight weeks. Tyler had cast me aside, left me, broken my heart, and yelled at me a thousand different ways in my dreams. Now, all he had to do was show me which one would be our reality.

  "I was pissed. I admit it," he began. "But I didn't know you'd gotten on a fucking plane. I'm an unbelievable dick, Ellie. I didn't realize you were in such a low place. I don't know what we're doing, but if it's just friends with benefits, I can't even call myself a good friend. I should have seen it. I should have known."