After I walk out of her room, I crank up some music and sit down at my computer in the living room. Then I start researching opiate addiction and find the name of the one she told me she was taking when she was barely awake. What I find out pretty much describes what I saw with my dad. Anxiety. Irritability. Vomiting. Tremors. Confusion. The list is pretty long. And it says for long-term drug abusers either medication should be used during detox or the user should gradually be weaned off from it, like my dad was.

Jesus, it would be so much easier to check her into a facility. Although I’d have to convince her to check herself in and that seems fucking complicated, too. Everything does at the moment. I’m not sure if I can do this.

I try to figure out what to do—what kind of person I really am, the kind who can just walk away from a situation like this and not help her or the kind who wants to do the right thing and help her overcome the very hard obstacle of quitting. I think about the last time I walked away and what resulted from it. I don’t want to go down that road again, but I also don’t want to help her and fuck up her recovery because I did something wrong. What I need is some advice from someone who’s helped someone get through a tough time in their life.

I crank up some music and then wander back to Micha’s old room and lie down on the floor. I retrieve my cell phone from my pocket and delete all the text messages Rae has sent me over the last three days—the ones I’ve refused to read—before I open up the dial screen. I hesitate for probably ten minutes before I finally dial Micha’s number. It’s weird to be asking advice from him—usually it’s the other way around. But he’s been through something like this with Ella, who’d run away and completely changed her identity after her mom committed suicide. She had a lot of psychological problem, but Micha stuck by her side and never gave up on her even when things got hard.

“What the fuck?” he answers with a laugh. “You hardly ever call me.”

“Yeah, I know.” I rub my forehead with my hand, totally out of my comfort zone. Normally, I’m the one listening to his problems. “I have a question… about Ella.”

“Okay…” He sounds really lost and I don’t blame him. I’m acting like a weirdo right now.

“All those problems that you went through with her… was it hard?”

“Um, yeah. Problems usually are.”

I know I’m not verbalizing myself very well. I do better with a pen and paper. “Yeah, I know that, but was it hard to help her out with stuff when you knew it was going to be hard?”

It takes him a second. “Are you asking if I ever considered bailing out and not helping her?”

“Kind of,” I say. “But not bailing out so much as worrying about even getting into it with her because you knew it was going to be a pain in the ass to help her get past her problems and you weren’t sure if you could handle it or even really help her.”

“Not really,” he answers guardedly. He’s never has been too comfortable talking about Ella’s problems. “I mean, in the beginning I hesitated to be with her, but that’s only because I knew she wasn’t ready for anything more than friendship.”

“Well, what if you were just trying to help her as a friend?” I ask. “And you knew you were just going to stay friends. Would you still have helped her then, even if you knew you’d have to deal with a lot of shit?”

“Of course,” he says straightforwardly. “I know I’m going to sound all stupid and cheesy here, but isn’t that what friends are for? I mean, you’ve always kind of been there for me.”

I snort a laugh, rolling my eyes. “You know you sound like some kind of cartoon special, right? The ones with bouncing kangaroos that talk about how wonderful and neat it is to have a friend.”

“Bouncing kangaroos?”

“Hey, I’ve never been a cartoon person so how the hell should I know what kind of characters they have now?”

“I’m pretty sure there aren’t any kangaroos.”

“Okay, well, it doesn’t really matter.” I waver. “So you’d still have helped her?”

“Absolutely,” he assures me. “And I’ve never once regretted doing it.”

I’m not sure if I feel better or not now. “All right. Well, thanks I guess.”

“Not what you were wanting to hear, huh?” he asks.

“No… honestly I’m not really sure what I wanted to hear.” I sigh as I sit up, dragging my fingers through my hair. “But anyway, I’ll let you go.”

“What? You’re not going to explain where this really random phone call came from?”

“I can’t just yet.”

“All right, gotcha.” He hesitates. “Totally off the subject, but you aren’t by chance coming out to California anytime soon, are you?”

I rub the back of my tensed neck muscles. “No, why?”

“It’s nothing,” he replies and I hear a door shut. “It’s just that Ella and I are thinking about having the wedding in a month, around Christmas time, and I was thinking that maybe you and Lila could fly or drive out together.”

“In a month?” I question, lowering my hand to my side. “Isn’t that, like, really soon?”

“Soon for two people who’ve known each other for almost seventeen years?”

“Yeah, good point, I guess.” I try not to roll my eyes because I think marriage is ridiculous. Look at my father and mother. They are prime examples of what can happen to a couple if they forever bind themselves to each other.

“So will you?”

“Has Ella talked to Lila about this?” I ask. “Or talked to her at all lately?”

“I don’t think so,” he says, sounding confused. “Why? What’s up?”

“It’s nothing.” I get to my feet and head for the door. “I’m down for California, but I’m going to let Ella ask Lila if she thinks she can go.”

“Sounds like a plan, man.” He turns on some music, letting it play quietly in the background. “Talk to you later, then.”

“Sounds good.” I hang up and take a deep breath before going out into the hall and veering to the left toward my bedroom. The door is open and I know right away that Lila’s gone and I don’t doubt for one second where she’s going. I’ve been in that desperate place before and it’s an overwhelming place to be trapped in. It makes not wanting to help her feel easy and wanting to help her feel hard, but the feelings that I have for Lila, ones I didn’t know existed until I saw her laying on the ground completely out of it, also make it impossible to turn my back on her.

I hesitate for a moment, thinking about everything Lila and I have been through, the long talks, the flirting, the touches that almost led to something but never fully did, the way she makes me feel, the fact that I’ve broken my rules with her a ton of times, the fear that overtook my body when I saw her in the bushes. As I remember it all, it makes it slightly easier to make my decision. I snatch my truck keys off the dresser and head for the front door, knowing I’ve got to beat her to the apartment, otherwise this is going be even harder than it already is.

As I trot down the stairs, gripping my keys in my hand, I try to mentally prepare myself for what I’m diving into so hopefully I’ll be able to handle it. At the bottom of the stairs, I take out my phone and call my mom to get some advice on the right way to try to wean someone off an opiate addiction, since she’s done it herself. I just pray to God, Lila and I won’t turn into what they turned into during it, yelling and fighting and my mom always crying secretly in her room over the things my dad said to her. I can’t picture this happening, at least the crying part, but I can’t erase everything I saw when I was a kid.

There’re so many emotions crashing through me at the moment as I make the final decision to be there for Lila, but out of all them, what really gets to me is the fact that I’m going to help her, because I care about her—more than care. That in and of itself is fucking terrifying, more than running head-on into traffic. More than walking into a room and looking at the girl you thought you might love, only to find out she has no idea who you are anymore and that you might have never really known her and never will.