A. Walters - Lead Me Not

He didn’t make a sound. I laid my ear against his chest, listening to the strained beat of his heart. My tears soaked his shirt, and I turned and buried my face in the fabric, screaming to a man who couldn’t hear me.

The door of the bathroom swung open, and a few guys came in. They noticed me on the floor with Maxx and chuckled.

“Sorry to interrupt,” they said, turning to the urinals and taking a piss, unconcerned. They didn’t see what was really going on. The sight was most likely not unusual at a place like Compulsion.

When the men left, I tried to get Maxx to wake up. I yelled in his ear. I smacked his face. I shook him hard enough to bang his head against the floor. Nothing worked. He wouldn’t wake up. And when his breath started to rattle in his chest and his lips began to tinge blue, I knew I needed to get him to a hospital.

I hurried to the door of the restroom and locked it, not wanting anyone to come in. I got out my phone and dialed 911.

And then I watched Maxx’s breathing slow down until his chest wasn’t moving at all.

aubrey

i had given Maxx CPR while I waited for the paramedics. His skin had grown cold as I pounded away at his chest. I breathed into his mouth, wishing he would start breathing on his own.

He would for a little while, then he would stop, and I’d start CPR all over again.

The EMTs showed up with the police, who promptly shut the club down. I heard screaming and yelling, but I was too busy trying to keep Maxx alive.

I was exhausted by the time the paramedics rushed into the bathroom and took over resuscitation. One of the EMTs asked if I wanted to ride with Maxx in the ambulance to the hospital, but I said I’d go in my own car.

And I did. I went and waited in the emergency room. I waited until Landon and David showed up and were ushered into the back, neither realizing I was there.

I waited after the doors to the triage unit swung open and the shrill code blue wailed out into the ER. And I knew fear. I knew terror. I knew what it meant to feel your heart die.

I continued to wait while Maxx’s life hung in the balance.

I watched Maxx’s uncle leave the hospital hours later with Landon, who was sobbing. And I thought that was it. Maxx was gone.

Not able to sit there a moment longer, I asked the nurse about Maxx. When she asked who I was, I lied and said I was his sister.

The nurse eyed me skeptically but didn’t call me out on my obviously false story. She clicked away at the computer before giving me the information I wanted.

“He’s listed as in critical condition. But he’s stable. They’re beginning the detox process,” she explained.

“Do you want to go back and see him?” she asked me.

I stepped away from the counter.

“No,” I said, turning around and leaving the ER.

I drove home. When I got there, Renee was waiting up for me.

And she wasn’t alone.

“We’ve got company,” Renee said, giving Brooks a fierce look.

Brooks got to his feet. “Hey,” was all he said, and I lost it.

I just flipping lost it.

I rushed him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my head in his crisp, clean shirt, and sobbed.

Brooks stiffened the second I touched him, but as I started to shudder, my body going into spasms with the force of my cries, he slowly held me more firmly, his hand rubbing my back soothingly.

“What’s wrong, Aubrey? What happened?” he asked over and over, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say a word.

Renee joined us, and my two best friends held me while I fell apart.

When I was finished crying for Maxx, for myself, for the us that would never be, I fell into bed and slept. Thinking about what could have happened to Maxx if I hadn’t gotten there in time was a pain I couldn’t handle.

* * *

I went to the hospital the next day and again claimed to be Maxx’s sister. The nurse on duty didn’t question me, and it was hard not to silently criticize their lack of security.

I was told to head down the hall and that Maxx’s room number was 302. I followed the directions and found myself standing out in the hallway, unable to make myself go inside.

Maxx was sleeping; there were tubes and monitors everywhere. He was as white as a sheet, his blond curls lank and lifeless. Slowly I walked inside and sat down beside his bed.

I didn’t take his hand. I didn’t cry. I just stared at the man I loved with all my heart. He had been so willing to throw away what we had. And for what? This?

A nurse came bustling in, giving me a distracted smile. She checked the monitors and his IV.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked her before she could leave.

“He’s got a heck of a hard road ahead of him. He’s been given naloxone through his IV overnight, which will put him into withdrawal. Once he’s stable enough to be moved, he’ll go to the detox unit. After that, the doctor will recommend a rehab program, but it will be up to him whether he goes or not,” the nurse reported clinically.

“Okay, thanks,” was all I could say.

“I’m guessing you’re family, right?” the nurse asked, giving me a look that said she knew I was most definitely not family.

“Of course,” I responded, my eyes flicking to Maxx, who still hadn’t regained consciousness.

“Rehab is this young man’s only chance. His heart stopped twice after he got here. His body is in bad shape. His organs were on the brink of shutdown. If he were my family, I’d do everything I could to make him go.”

I nodded, my throat uncomfortably tight. The nurse turned her hard eyes on Maxx.

“Not everyone gets a second chance. Let’s hope he takes his,” she said, her words clipped. She gave me a thin smile as she left.

I sat back in my chair, watching him sleep. I wish I could have been sure he’d make the right choice, that he’d go to rehab and get better. But I just didn’t know.

There were two sides of Maxx that were completely at odds with each other. One side wanted a normal life. He wanted to go to school, take care of his brother, love me, and be happy. That’s the side of Maxx that would undoubtedly make the right decision.

However, there was also the darker, more self-destructive side, which was selfish and miserable and needed the escape that only drugs could provide. And that side of Maxx would never do anything that would keep him away from the thing he loved above all else—his next high.

Needing to touch him, I reached out and took his limp hand in mine. I wanted to cry, but there weren’t any tears left to fall.

So I sat there, holding his hand, knowing whatever road he’d take, he’d have to travel it alone.

* * *

“Aubrey, please have a seat,” Dr. Lowell said, closing her office door behind me. In the aftermath of Maxx’s overdose, I had briefly forgotten about my day of reckoning.

Dr. Lowell looked older than I could ever remember seeing her.

“I never thought I’d be having this conversation with you, Aubrey. To say I’m sad and disappointed is a great understatement,” Dr. Lowell began.

“You know I’ve spoken with Kristie Hinkle, and I know you are aware of what you have been accused of. Kristie tells me she has already spoken with you, and that you have admitted to engaging in an inappropriate relationship with a member of the support group you were co-facilitating. Is this correct?” she asked me, sounding weary.

I nodded. “Yes, it’s true, Dr. Lowell.” I wouldn’t deny it. It was high time I accepted responsibly for my choices.

My mind wandered to Maxx, who was now most likely awake, lying in the hospital detox ward, probably wondering why I hadn’t come to see him. He didn’t know that I had been by his side most of the time he had been unconscious and that it was only when I knew he’d be okay that I’d found the strength to leave, knowing that he had to make his choices for himself.

And they could have nothing to do with me.

Dr. Lowell took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t need to tell you how serious these accusations are. You have violated our ethical code of conduct. You have abused your role as facilitator and taken advantage of someone in a vulnerable position. This is the grossest kind of misconduct, Aubrey,” Dr. Lowell stated, her voice hardening with her displeasure.

“I understand,” was all I could say.

“I am going to have to begin a departmental investigation into your behavior. There will be a hearing where you will be able to speak on your own behalf. If you are found to have shown misconduct, as your own admission will surely prove, you will be put on disciplinary suspension. It will be up to the disciplinary council to decide whether you should be removed from the counseling program,” Dr. Lowell explained.

I could only nod.

“You’ll receive information in the mail regarding an investigative interview and the time of your hearing. You will get more information about the process when you have your interview. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Lowell asked, her eyes boring into mine.

“I have no questions,” I said, resigned to my fate.

“You can go then. But just know I have never been so disappointed in a student. Your behavior is shocking and reflects poorly not only on yourself but on the entire department.”

I had been dismissed.

I gathered my purse and left Dr. Lowell’s office, head hung low.

My phone rang from inside my bag. I fished it out and looked at the screen, not recognizing the number.

“Aubrey,” the voice breathed on the other end after I said hello.

“Maxx,” I stated, easily recognizing his raspy tone.

I sat down heavily on a bench by the library, tucked into an alcove and shielded from view. My trembling hands had a difficult time holding on to the phone as I clutched it to my ear.

I had been both anticipating and dreading this moment. I had hoped Maxx would have used his time in the hospital to come to see where his life was heading. From the terse way he said my name, I knew that wasn’t the case.

He was angry. And hurt. He felt betrayed and abandoned. It gutted me to think he was feeling all of those things because of me. But this was honestly the only way I could think of to help him. And to help me.

“Are you out of the hospital then?” I asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

“No. I’m still here. I’ve been in the detox ward for seventy-two hours, or so they tell me. They said I can go home tomorrow.”

My heart twisted in my chest.

“You’re not going to rehab?” I asked, already knowing the answers.

“I don’t need to go to rehab to get better, Aubrey,” Maxx said defensively.

“Maxx . . . ,” I began, but he cut me off.

“I only need you,” he said with such confidence that I knew in his mind those words were one hundred percent true.

“You almost died, Maxx! You used heroin. Injected it into your damned arm! Do you know I found you barely breathing on the bathroom floor? Your heart stopped! I had to do CPR! I have never been so terrified in my entire life!” I was yelling into the phone. I needed to calm down. But I was so frustrated with him and his complete and total denial.

Maxx was quiet for a time, and I hoped that maybe he’d listen.

“I’m sorry, Aubrey. I didn’t mean for it to go that far. It was the only time I’ve ever used that shit. I didn’t know what I was doing. It won’t happen again.” How easily he excused his behavior. He still didn’t see the pattern he lived in.

“Maxx, the next time you might not wake up. The next time it could be too late. Because I won’t be there.” I had said it, the thing I knew I had to tell him but wished I didn’t.

“Don’t say that, Aubrey! Please!” I could tell he was crying. The tears started falling down my face as I heard the brokenness in his voice.

“I can’t do this without you,” he pleaded.

We cried together on the phone. I tucked my head down into my jacket, trying to get my breathing under control.

“Aubrey, I love you,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat.

“I love you, Maxx,” I choked out, my throat strangling the words as they erupted out of me. I heard Maxx’s sharp intake of breath.

It was horrible timing. Here I was, finally telling him what he wanted so badly to hear, and it came when I was planning to leave him.

“You love me,” he murmured, and I could hear the relief in his voice. I knew what he was thinking—that this made everything better, that I was giving in.