A LaLa Land Addiction (26 page)

God, please give me another chance,
she thought. Her mother's face appeared before her eyes. Sienna was crying; so was Bleu as she tried to reach out to her. Suddenly she was chasing after Sienna, running full speed, but Bleu could never catch her. The harder Bleu tried, the farther Sienna got from her. Bleu knew it wasn't real. She knew that she was dreaming, but the pain she felt in her heart was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She would rather go back to the nightmare about demons and angels than feel this. Suddenly everything went blank and her exhaustion pulled her into unconsciousness. She stopped fighting; she stopped battling, she stopped struggling. It was time to let God do some of the fighting for her, because this was a battle that she couldn't win without him.

*   *   *

“How do I tell her that?” Noah asked as he looked his mother in the eyes. “That news can't come from me.”

“You're the only one it can come from, Son,” Ms. Monica said.

“She's been asleep for three days,” Noah said. “She's crying and screaming in her sleep. She's already got too much on her. This is gon' break her. I know it.”

“Probably so, but sometimes you have to be broken all the way down before you can build yourself back up,” Ms. Monica replied.

“What about the arrangements?” Noah asked. “Can you handle that part? I'll cover everything. Money isn't an issue. She didn't live the best life so give her the best death. If she ain't do nothing right, she did one thing that's worth something.”

“What's that?” Ms. Monica asked.

“She gave birth to the best person I know,” Noah said seriously.

Ms. Monica caressed her son's cheek and looked at him sympathetically. “She will get through this,” she reassured him. “I've got to go get the funeral arrangements together, but if you need me you know how to reach me.”

Noah kissed his mother's inner wrist. “Thanks, old lady.”

She snatched her wrist and swatted him. “Old lady my ass.”

He chuckled at her chagrin and walked her to the door and before she left she turned to him.

“And keep that girlfriend of yours away from Bleu. I know a jealous woman when I see her. She don't want to see Bleu prosper. She means her no good. It would be best if you kept them separated, especially while Bleu is so vulnerable,” Ms. Monica advised.

“Naomi's loyal. She got a little jealous streak, but she rocking with who I'm rocking with. She just has to get to know B. They'll be all right,” he replied.

Ms. Monica wanted to say more, but she refrained and walked out.

Noah went back to Bleu's room and walked inside as she lay there. He was surprised at how still she was. For days she had been fighting herself in a comatose-like state, but as he looked at her now she seemed at peace. He bent down and put his face to her nose to make sure she was still breathing, then sat in the chair in the corner of the room, waiting for her to wake up. Naomi called him, but he sent her to voice mail. Messiah called and he got the same result. No one was getting through to him because his entire focus was on Bleu. Nothing had ever bothered him this much. He waited hours until finally she began to stir.

He went to her bedside as she began to sit up. “I've got to throw—”

Noah hurriedly picked up the small garbage pail and held it up for her as she vomited.

“Oh-h!” she cried as she collapsed back onto the bed while gasping for air. “Take me to the bathroom, please,” she moaned weakly.

Noah put down the pail and picked her up, hurrying into the bathroom and barely placing her on her feet before she erupted again. It came from everywhere. Out of her nose, her mouth. She couldn't even control her body as her bowels let go from the force of throwing up. She was pathetic. She was disgusting and embarrassment filled her as she mumbled, “I'm sorry,” between her vomiting fits.

Noah had never seen anything like it. She had no control over her bodily functions as she sat in her own soils. The sight made him emotional and he had to bite into his bottom lip to stop himself from losing it. He was a grown man watching someone he loved battle addiction. He couldn't imagine how traumatic it had been for Bleu as a little girl to have to watch her parents go through this.
No wonder it fucked her up,
he thought.

He didn't give a damn about the mess. He stood over her, holding her hair back in a ponytail as she got the garbage out of her system.

“It's okay, B. Just get it out,” he whispered as he rubbed her back with his free hand.

“I can't do this. I just need some more. It'll make all of this go away, Noah, please. I know you sell it. I know you can get me some!” she cried while gripping the porcelain seat.

“No, Bleu. Just fight it. You're going to have to fight it,” he said as he watched her bury her face in the toilet again and again. They sat there, bathroom stinking, a mess everywhere, for hours until there was nothing left for Bleu to throw up. She was sweaty and spent by the time she started dry heaving. Noah picked her up, placed her in the tub, and bathed her again before cleaning his bathroom.

Bleu sat in the water, her eyes puffy from crying. She shivered slightly from the water that Noah poured on her hair as she held her head back.

“I'm weak,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well, I'm strong, B, and I got you,” he replied. She was so thin. To the average eye her weight would be no big deal, but he knew that she had had the hips and ass of a stallion, she wasn't naturally thin, but the drugs had made her drop to a model's size while a small bulge settled around her midsection. She looked unhealthy, and even worse, her eyes shone unhappiness. He just wanted to help her get better. Noah struggled with whether or not he wanted to inform her about Sienna, but he knew that it wasn't his place to keep something like that from Bleu.

“I've got to tell you something,” Noah said.

She bent her knees and rested her head on top of them as she wrapped her arms around her legs. Her eyes pierced his as a look of inquisition told him to keep talking.

“Your mama—”

“I can't believe she came by here,” Bleu said. “And she was clean. I don't even think I can remember a time that I've ever seen her clean.”

“Yeah, that was three days ago, B. You've been knocked out since then. Something happened.…” Noah was struggling with his words and Bleu sat straight up. He wasn't one to get tongue-tied, so watching him choose his words carefully made her stomach clench in anticipation.

“What? What is it? Just say it,” she urged. “She's using again? That's no surprise. So just spit it out.…”

“She overdosed, B. She's gone.”

Bleu went deaf. No. Seriously. She lost all function of hearing as her eyes widened in horror. Suddenly she felt herself hitting Noah. Naked as a newborn baby she pounded his chest as he pulled her from the tub and held her as she cried. Bleu bawled like she never had before.

“Oh my God! Why!” she screamed as she clung to Noah as he carried her into the bedroom.

He set her down and rocked her gently until she had no more tears left.
I've really got to get her some clothes,
he thought as he pulled Naomi's things out of a drawer and dressed Bleu once more. She sat there, looking completely drained. “I don't even know why I'm so fucked up over this. It's not like she was even a good mother, but for some reason it just hurts.”

“It don't matter if she was good or bad. If she was fucked up or Clair Huxtable, B. She was yours. She was your fuckup of a mother. To tell anyone that they can never see or hear from the person that brought them to this earth … that's painful. Don't try to dull that pain, though, Bleu. You got to feel the pain to know that you need to heal,” he said as he bent down and placed socks on her feet.

“When did you get so smart?” she asked.

“When yo' ass started acting dumb!” he shot back with a smirk. She smiled weakly because she knew that although he was joking there was truth behind his words.

“She wrote you a letter,” Noah said before reaching into his back pocket and holding the letter out for her.

Bleu was almost afraid to read it. She reached for it and then pulled her hand back as if it would burn her. “Can you read it to me?” she asked.

Noah sighed and sat down next to her on the bed, not feeling right about reading the last words of Sienna.

“Please,” Bleu pushed.

Noah opened the paper. “‘My beautiful Bleu…'”

Bleu closed her eyes as she soaked in her mother's last words. There was something comforting about Noah's voice being the method of delivery.
She wrote this like she knew she would die. She O.D.'d on purpose to teach me a lesson,
Bleu thought, and that revelation sent silent tears rolling down her face. She sniffed as Noah folded the letter and handed it to her. It was the deepest thing he had ever read.

“I guess she did love me,” Bleu said, feeling overwhelmed. She wanted to smoke something so badly that it made her antsy and her leg began to bounce. “You're going to have to handcuff me back to the bed because right now I just want to run out of here and get high,” she said aloud. “But then she would have died for nothing.”

Bleu stood to her feet and when she did the room spun. “Noah, I don't feel so—” Bleu crashed to the floor, passing out as her world went dark.

*   *   *

When Bleu woke up, her head felt like it had been split in half. She thought she was dreaming. It was the same scenario that had happened two years ago when she had been shot before leaving for college. Noah sat at her bedside, with the same look of worry.

“Hm-m,” she moaned. “What happened to me?”

“You were suffering from dehydration,” Noah said. “It's a symptom of the withdrawal. They're running blood tests and everything now to make sure everything else is okay.”

“Is she really gone?” Bleu asked. “Was I dreaming?”

“No, B, you weren't dreaming, but you've got to learn how to deal with reality. I swear to God, I will murk every nigga who even think about serving you, so you got to fight this shit,” Noah whispered.

“It's going to be hard,” she whispered, completely terrified of the days to come. She already felt defeated.

“Everything that's worth something always is,” he replied. “You're fighting for your life.”

Noah reached over and grabbed her hand. “It's a lot on you right now, Bleu, and I'm here. Whatever you need. Twenty-four-seven.”

A doctor entered the room wearing a white lab coat. “Ms. Montclair, glad to see you're awake,” the woman said as she pulled up a rolling stool and took a seat. She pulled out her stethoscope and checked Bleu's vitals. “How are you feeling?”

“A little queasy, weak…”

“You have a nasty disease. We found traces of crack cocaine and heroin in your system, but I don't have to tell you that,” the doctor said. “I want to show you something.”

The doctor pulled out a monitor and then looked at Noah. “I have to examine her. You may want to wait in the hall.”

“No. He can stay,” Bleu said quickly, reaching out for his hand. She didn't know what the doctor was about to tell her but she was terrified. Had the white girl used a dirty needle? Did Bleu have HIV? Or hepatitis? Had she fucked herself up with the constant crack use? She didn't know what was about to come out of the doctor's mouth and gasped as the woman squirted a cool jelly on Bleu's abdomen. The doctor then placed a handheld machine on Bleu's skin and pressed down, moving it around.

“You see that image right there on the screen?” the doctor asked.

Bleu gasped.

“That's your baby. You are pregnant. About twelve weeks, I would say,” the doctor informed her. “That needs to be what you think about the next time you have the urge to use drugs. Your baby is taking in everything that you put into your body. There is no telling the damage that has already been done. You have to have a flawless pregnancy from this day forward, and even then you have to pray that your drug use didn't cause any birth defects,” the doctor said.

Bleu couldn't tear her eyes from the screen as she looked in disbelief. She sniffed back her emotions as she looked toward Noah. “What have I done?” she asked.

The news had placed a weight on his heart that he couldn't hide. Noah was speechless. “It's not about what you did in the past. It's about what you gon' do now, B. I got you,” he promised.

“Are you the father?” the doctor asked as she cleaned the gel off of Bleu's belly.

Oh my God, Iman,
Bleu thought. She didn't know how she had gotten here.
Or is it Cinco's?
That thought was even scarier and Bleu immediately felt like she would lose it. Both of them had been inside her without protection and Bleu had no idea which one had fathered her child. She did the math inside her head.
Twelve weeks ago it could have only been Iman.
She remembered the night that Cinco had refused to pull out of her, and that was more recent.
Or was it?
She didn't know. The endless nights of getting high had all run into one another. She hadn't been in her right mind. She couldn't tell if it was night or day, let alone who she had let cum in her three months ago.

“No, I'm a friend,” he replied. “Can you give us a minute?” Noah asked.

The doctor printed the ultrasound picture. “Sure. I'll let you have some privacy. The nurse will bring some rehab pamphlets in for you in a little bit.” She handed Bleu the picture. “Here is your motivation.”

The doctor left the room and Bleu looked at Noah. She was completely lost.

“Is that nigga out in L.A. the father?” Noah asked.

Bleu just nodded her head, not wanting to explain to Noah all of the unthinkable acts that she had done. “You want to go back to him?” he asked.