"So rather than being kicked around, I'm going to kick you to the curb
So rather than being pushed around, I'm going to push you away first
So rather than trying to protect you, I'm going to cover my bases first
So rather than trying to open my heart, I'm going to lock it with a key
So that only the special ones can ever get through to me"
Special Ones - George.
Déjà vu.
Addy is asleep in my car again. She had a panic attack. Again. My feelings around the subject are so jumbled and unfamiliar that I don't even know where to begin unpacking them.
A text from security confirmed that the man from the dance floor had been given a VIP experience before being forcefully removed from the premesis.
Another message from Matt informed me as we were leaving that Evan, the moron, had shown up outside Fantasia drunk and demanding Addy come out and speak to him. Knowing Matt has that situation under control allows me to focus on the confusing, petite brunette curled up in my passenger seat.
I can't decide if it would be better or worse for me to learn the full extent of her trauma. I am already displaying far too much irrational behaviour when it comes to this girl. Like tonight - I'd been prepared to storm in there and rip her off the dance floor because my lapse in judgement convinced me that it was the best way to protect her. Nevermind the fact that something else entirely unexpected clenches deep in my stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing her like this.
I am not a misogynist. I don't care how women dress, and I certainly don't think that a woman's choice of clothing ever means she's 'asking for it'. Whatever the fuck it is. And yet a dark, primitive part of me still wants to gouge out the eyes of every person who saw Addy in that outfit of hers tonight.
I let out a deep, frustrated sigh and finally turn the car around to head towards my building. We've been driving around aimlessly for the last twenty minutes while I decompress and try to organise my thoughts. Besides, when Addy fell asleep a minute into the ride home something in me was reluctant to wake her straight away. It's obvious how exhausting these attacks are for her.
A sharp pain stings my chest when I think about her going through something like this alone, or worse, in front of Evan. The scenario has my knuckles turning white as my grip on the steering wheel tightens. I yearn for the day I no longer need him alive.
She's so quiet; I can barely even hear her breathing. It's as though, even in her sleep, she still tries to be invisible. If only she knew how much she stands out. I can find her instantly in a crowded room.
Addy lets out a small huff and shifts restlessly and my eyes instantly snap to her. If only I could hear what went on inside that head of hers; I've noticed how much she seems to get lost in her own mind. For someone so quiet it's amazing how much I want to hear what she has to say.
Many philosophers argue that the deepest truths have the deepest paradoxes involved - like yin and yang. Some argue that this causes a state of equilibrium; others suggest you get a duality that makes you weak as those two opposing forces fight against each other. Like Addy's cognitive dissidence over morality that causes her to chronically overthink everything. And yet for all her faults she's got this amazing strength in her - through all the shit she's suffered she's protected that sweet innocence; she hasn't become an ugly product of her trauma.
Addy doesn't wake when I park the car, or when I gently lift her and carry her to my private elevator. I have a key to Tink's place, I could just drop her home. Instead the thought of her waking up alone and freaking out has me bringing her up to my penthouse. Just until Tink gets back.
Of all the things to disturb her, it's the soft ding of the elevator doors that rouse her. She starts to shift in my arms as we enter and I immediately, without even thinking, start talking softly so she doesn't startle.
"It's just me, Addy. You're safe." My voice is quiet and hardly even sounds like my own; it seems to work though because she stops moving and I feel her relax a little in my arms.
"It's ok, I can walk." Her words are barely above a whisper and she sounds embarassed of all things. I reluctantly lower her feet to the ground just as we arrive and the doors slide open.
"Oh, um. I can just go downstairs." She lingers nervously inside the elevator, making a point to look everywhere but at me.
"How about you humour me and wait here until Tink gets home at least, yeah?" I walk towards her and extend a hand. Something in me wants to let her make the decision to stay for herself; hell, if she wants to go home I'll just follow her and sit on the couch until Tink arrives. The image of her scarred thighs makes me flinch internally and I know there is no way I am leaving her alone right now.
I hate how uncomfortable she looks as she hesitantly places her small hand in mine. I try not to focus on how soft her skin feels and instead concentrate on getting her to relax; there's no point having her here if I can't. I try to convince myself that I can use this moment of vulnerability to try and extract more information about her but I instantly reject the thought.
That simple fact alone has me questioning my entire moral philosophy because I have never, not once, faltered like this. If it were literally anyone else, I would have had them strapped to a chair and begging to answer my questions by now. But not her. Never her.
The worst part is if I was asked exactly why I couldn't put her to the question, I don't think I'd be able to come up with an exact answer. If anything, the situation is only becoming more urgent as Evan becomes more unstable. Whoever it is running the show behind the scenes must be aware that Evan has lost control, or they will be soon, and who knows how they will choose to respond.
And yet here I am, willingly ignoring an opportunity in favour of...whatever it is I am doing here instead.
I manage to get her settled on the couch so I can go and find her a change of clothes and give myself some breathing space to clear my head.
I don't indulge in mind-altering substances often.
It may seem counter-intuitive for a drug lord to not do drugs, but in my perspective it's simple logic. I've witnessed countless individuals from all walks of life succumb to addiction and that is the last thing I want for myself.
However, I don't mind the occassional joint. Weed is harmless, not addictive and has proven medical health benefits, especially in the mental health sector. So when Matt messaged to inform me that Tink was having the time of her life - after he managed to calm her down and convince her that Addy had just gotten overwhelmed and had asked to go home - I decided that a little Devil's Lettuce might be just what Addy needs.
Despite feeling like this evening had been going on forever, it is only just midnight and now that Addy has changed into an old hoodie of mine she seems a little less skittish. We're each at opposite ends of my couch; Addy is sipping a glass of water while I have an untouched whiskey sitting on the coffee table. I pull an engraved, silver ciggarette case from my pocket and remove a pre-rolled joint.
"Do you mind?" I hold it up between my fingers for her to clearly see and she shakes her head no without hesitation. Good girl.
I keep an eye on her in my peripheral as I light the end of the blunt and inhale deeply. Her eyes are glued to my face so I make a show of taking the longest drag I can handle then collapse back against the couch while I hold the smoke in my lungs. Her eyes follow my every movement and I can't help the smug smile that forms on my lips; I spread my legs a little wider and I drop my head onto the back of the couch to exhale the smoke in one long, smooth stream towards the ceiling.
I sit up again and take a second hit; the movement seems to snap her out of whatever daze she was in and I am rewarded as her cheeks flush a deep red and she quickly averts her gaze to her lap. Interesting.
To break the tension I extend my arm towards her and offer her the joint. She hesitates this time, looking back and forth between my offered hand and my face, before finally accepting it from me. We continue the two puff ettiquette system until it's gone and we are both blissfully high. Addy now appears entirely at ease; she's made a little nest on her end of the couch using multiple throw pillows and a blanket. Her head is tipped slightly to the left and her eyes are staring blankly ahead at nothing; it's one of those moments where I can tell she's retreated internally and I'd give anything to know what she's thinking.
I'm so high that I don't even realise I've asked the question out loud until her eyes come back into focus and her head pops up. "Huh? Sorry did you say something?" Her voice is still soft but she doesn't stutter or sound as unsure as she would when sober. It's a nice change.
"I was just wondering what you're thinking about right now. It's almost painful to watch how fast the wheels are turning up there." I tap my finger against my own temple for emphasis.
"Oh." She giggles quietly and I'm so shocked by the sound of it that I almost miss her next words. "Everything - and nothing."
"Well that's an Aes Sedai answer if I've ever heard one." I may have noticed she's always carting around a book from a particular series she loves that it just so happens I have also read. And for god knows what reason, I actually want to talk to her about it.
Addy bolts upright and gapes at me the second those words leave my mouth. "You've read The Wheel of Time?" Her voice is breathless and excited but I just shrug and reply.
"Of course I have, it's the pinnacle of it's genre. I've also read Isaac Asimov, Tolkien, George R.R. Martin and Frank Herbert, but who's counting?" With every name listed the shock on her face increases and so I can't help but go a little over the top with my flexing.
It's all worth it to watch Addy light up right before my eyes. Before I can blink or truly appreciate the change she starts rapid firing questions at me and I find myself scrambling to focus my intoxicated brain.
"Who is your favourite character? No, who is your least favourite? And why is it Gawyn? Did you like the ending? How do you feel Brandon Sanderson did with finishing the series after Robert Jordan passed away? Have you seen season one of the show adaptation on Amazon?"
I'm helpless to prevent the massive, toothy grin that takes over my face; somehow I've stumbled upon a massive crack in her previously seamless walls and it's like I'm finally getting to see a glimpse the real Addy.
I try to remember each question she asks so I can answer them all.
"Favourite character is hard, but if I have to pick one I'm going with Rand." She smiles so brightly at this one simple answer that I keep going to try and keep it there. For the first time in a long time I'm not trying to manipulate the conversation in any way - I actually want to give her my honest opinion rather than just tell her what I think she wants to hear.
"The ending was different to what I had theorised but I found it clever and satisfying. I think they pulled it off very well and that Sanderson stepped up to a near impossible task and managed to do a commendable job. I have my criticisms but they're not significant enough to ruin the overall product." Addy nods along to my words as I speak. I've never had another person to discuss this particular book series with and hadn't realised how much I would enjoy doing so.
"Gawyn is definitely terrible but Cadsuane takes first place for me. That's a hill I will always die on so don't even bother trying to change my mind." This particular comment causes her lips to tip up in a secretive smile and I make a mental note to revisit the topic of Cadsaune with her.
Addy makes no move to interrupt so after a few seconds I answer her last question. "I rarely watch anything so no, I didn't even realise the show exists."
Instead of continuing the conversation like I had hoped, Addy goes quiet. Her eyes drop to her lap and she fiddles her fingers nervously. I almost miss the slight blush on her cheeks, but when I do clock it I'm suddenly very intrigued to figure out what's going on in that pretty little head of hers.
"Hey." I scoot a bit closer to her to try and draw her attention. "What about you? Who is your favourite character?" I don't overwhelm her with the same number of questions she asked me and, thankfully, it seems to work.
"Nynaeve. From the very first read, it's always been her. And the actress playing her in the show is just perfect." She falters for a second. "Would you um..." She trails off and looks away again so I shift a little more, close enough to reach out and cup her chin.
"Would I what, hmm?" It doesn't take much pressure to turn her head so she has to look into my eyes. Her pupils are dilated from the weed but it doesn't detract for just how strikingly blue her eyes are. They're a dangerous trap when I'm high because it's so easy to get lost staring into them.
I get distracted momentarily watching her throat move as she swallows before coughing quietly to clear her throat. "It might be a stupid idea, and I totally understand if you say no. It's not your thing like you said but I just thought that maybe, if you're not too tired-"
I cut her off with a soft chuckle. "Addy, what do you want to ask me? It's ok." As cute as it is to hear her ramble, trying to work herself up to the point she wants to make, if I let her go at this pace we'll never get there. Cute. Although if this is a hint of what it's like inside her head all the time I am mildly concerned with just how severe her anxiety is on a daily basis.
"Well, I just thought um...maybe we could watch the first episode?" Before I can open my mouth to reply words start pouring out of her mouth again - like she constantly feels the need to justify or apologise for existing. "If you hate it we can stop - it is pretty different from the books and some people don't like that but I actually think they did a really good job and they deserve more credit than what some book fans give them and-"
I stop her this time with my finger on her lips. She stops speaking so abruptly that she also stops breathing and only starts again when I reluctantly take my finger away; the feel of her soft, warm lips stays burned into my finger.
"We can watch it - what streaming service is it on?" It clearly takes her a few moments to recalibrate and figure out how to form words again, and she still only manages to squeak out one.
"Prime." I nod and put some distance between us, without retreating all the way back to my original place. I end up about halfway between her and the end of the couch I started on. I grab the tv remote and quickly bring up the first episode of season one.
I allow myself to relax into my position and settle in to actually pay attention; for now choosing to ignore why it seems so important to me that I make an effort.
Addy makes it less than halfway through the episode before she's asleep again. Yet, even long after Matt and Tink stop by to pick her up and take her home, I find myself glued to the same spot watching half the season in one damn sitting.
Constructive criticism welcome. Thoughts? Feelings?
- Harry
- Adaline
Harry appreciation <3
References:
- The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson