“Baby?” I heard her voice and immediately stuck the small plastic bag in a sneaker. “Are you in here?” she continued walking through our bedroom and stopped at the door of the walk-in closet where I was sitting on the ground in the corner. “Are you ok?” She looked down at me, a true look of concern covering her face. I nodded my head as she walked closer, sitting down next to me before pulling her legs to her chest. “What are you doing in the closet?”

            I shrugged, looking around for some excuse so I don’t have to tell my wife that the reason why I’m in the closet is because I need to do dope to get through the day. “I’m looking for my… sneakers, the black ones.”

            She grabbed onto my foot and offered a sweet smile, “Found them.”

            I looked down to see I was wearing the sneakers I told her I was looking for. “Well I found them.” I answered quickly, giving her the attitude I know she doesn’t deserve.

            “I see that,” she curled up into my arm, “Are you feeling any better?”  She asked, her hand touching my nose. I’ve been sniffling a lot lately, something she’s noticed right away. I told her I wasn’t feeling well but the truth is it’s because of the dope. I can’t inject it because she’d notice the track marks, and if I were to smoke it she’d know. At least when I snort it there’s no actual proof… except for me always sniffling.

            I nodded my head so she’d remove her hand from my face and took a deep breath.

            “Are you sure? Everyone’s out there waiting for you. Your mother thinks something is seriously wrong with you,” she forced a laugh but I know she’s worried too. I wish there was some way I could assure her I’m ok, but I’m not so sure I am. “I told her you’re just not feeling well but she wasn’t buying it so I figured I’d come find you before she does. We’re going to do the cake soon. My sister bought the cutest little birthday hats but Lyric wouldn’t wear one, he kept throwing it off. So I put it on, and he loved it like he was laughing so much. It was adorable. And then everyone else put them on and he’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. It’s like almost as funny to him as that time you were pretending the stuffed animal was biting you. Do you remember that?” I nodded my head before she continued, “So then everyone was wearing them and he did that thing he does with his hands, like squishing his fingers together and he goes… ha… ha, like he’s trying to say hat. And so I put it on him and he has this huge smile on his face that will not go away.”

            “That’s really cute Becca,” I smiled, placing my hand on her leg, “Sounds like he’s having fun.”

            “He is, he really is,” she forced a smile but she has that look in her eye like she wants to cry. “So are you going to come out?”

            “Yeah, I was just looking for my shoe,” I lied again, lie number 2 in the short conversation I’ve had with my wife. It’s the same lie, so it doesn’t really count, although there’s millions of lies I’m telling her without actually speaking.

            “Good, and you’ll wear the hat?”

            “Of course I will wear the hat for my son,” I smiled as she placed the hat on my head, reaching the rubber band type strap under my chin before kissing me gently, “Perfect.”

            “Perfect,” she repeated, “Thanks Justin.”

            I stood up before her and reached my hand down to help her up, never letting go of it as we walked out of the room, “You know I love you, right baby?”

            At least I made her smile; I haven’t seen that real smile in a very long time. “I know, I just worry about you sometimes.”

            I nodded my head instead of telling her there’s nothing to worry about. There are some lies even I can’t tell my wife. Instead I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it gently. “I love you,” I whispered again. I do love her, more than anything. I don’t want to hurt her, I just don’t know what the fuck has happened in my life. I don’t know why I’m so fucking addicted to heroine. I have a good life; people who get addicted to drugs have problems. I don’t have problems. I had a great childhood; millions of dollars, a huge house on the hills, a gorgeous wife that is not only beautiful but also smart and shares my dreams, not even to mention a little angel of a two-year-old son that looks just like me.

            We walked downstairs and into the living room to see all our family and friends wearing their party hats just like Becca said. “Hey Ma,” I went to my mother first, kissing her cheek and plastering a smile on my face, “Thanks for coming.”

            “How are you feeling, sweetie? Becca said you’ve been sick.”

            “Yeah,” I nodded my head, “I’ve been working a lot and it’s really been fucking me up.” I’m twenty seven years old, I’ve been married for three years, I have a son who just turned two today and my mother still gives me that look when I swear like I’m fourteen. “Sorry Ma, I’ve just been busy and working late and shit… stuff.” Dammit, I always do that. I don’t even swear that much, especially with a two year old I try my hardest not to. All I need is his first word to be fuck or something equally as horrible. He doesn’t really speak yet. I mean he says dada and mama, but it’s more like he’s trying to make sounds. I feel like he should be talking by now but I don’t know a damn thing about kids and their developmental stages.

            I walked away from my mother so I could have a second to control the words coming out of my mouth and made the rounds saying hello to Becca’s family and the rest of our friends. “Thanks for the hats, it’s a nice touch,” I smiled before kissing Becca’s sister on the cheek and grabbing my son from her arms.  “How are you doing man?”

            Becca attached her arms around my waist and kissed my lips gently before kissing Lyric’s cheek. “I think we’re ready for the cake. Do you want to go sit with him at the table so your mother can bring it out?” she laughed as Lyric giggled, “I know, cake! You’re excited, aren’t you?”

            “I know I am,” I answered with a smile. Becca’s an amazing mother, I know it’s weird but I knew she would be the second I met her. She wasn’t so sure, in fact she was scared to death when she found out she was pregnant. Lyric wasn’t exactly planned, don’t get me wrong we were married and wanted kids at some point, but not exactly as quickly as it happened.  But she’s got that natural motherly quality that just clicked the second she held him in her arms.

            “I know you are,” she laughed grabbing onto my hand and pulling me to the dining room table, “We’re going to do the cake!” she called out to everyone. They all got up and came in the room quickly. Everyone’s so fucking cooperative it drives me crazy. I just want one fucking person to tell her to wait a goddamn minute. I need someone to blame all this shit on instead of taking the entire fault myself.

            I sat down with my son in my lap and my wife right next to me while my mother brought in the birthday cake.  For a second I thought my life was perfect. I was sitting there with my beautiful wife and my adorable son with all our family and friends wearing goofy party hats singing to my son. I’m trying really hard to find something wrong with my life, I need some excuse, something to blame all my shit on. There has to be something.

            After everyone left I helped Becca put Lyric to bed and then went for a run to clear my mind. I really need to figure my shit out. I’ve gotten to the point that I need to snort to get through the day. It’s not even like I feel high or I get the good feelings that I used to when I do it. But if I don’t do it I feel like complete shit. Fuck that, I feel like shit either way. When I don’t do it it’s like the worst feeling in the world. But then again, when I keep doing it and I know I’m going to pull my life apart. That right there is the worst feeling in the world.

            When I got back to the house I stopped in front of Lyric’s room, peaking in to see him sound asleep. He’s always been good at sleeping; at least he can sleep the whole night through. There were only a couple months that he kept waking up when he was first born; I guess we were lucky with that. There are a lot of ways I’m lucky.  I went across the hall into our bedroom, pulling my sweaty t-shirt off and tossing it in the hamper.  “Are you in here babe?”

            Becca stepped out of the closet with lines of mascara smudged across her face. I felt my heart break as she wiped the tears away, trying her hardest to stay strong when I know she wants to crumble.

            “What’s wrong?” I don’t know why I asked the question because I already knew the answer. I didn’t want to hear her say it, but I needed her to so it would be real. It’s not just me fucking myself up anymore; I’m fucking her up.

            “What is this?” she managed to stop crying enough to ask me, holding up the bag full of dope.

            I sat down at the foot of the bed, running my hands through my hair nervously.  “It’s dope Becca,” I answered honestly.

            She walked towards me trying her hardest not to cry, “Tell me it’s not yours. Tell me it’s someone else’s. Tell me your clothes got mixed up and you took someone else’s jacket. Tell me that’s not why you were in the closet during Lyric’s party. Please, tell me it’s not yours.”

            She can’t hide the tears anymore; they’re flowing down her face. I hate seeing her like this. I hate hurting her. “It’s mine.”

            The tears started down even faster, if that was possible. Her whole body was shaking and sobs were coming from her mouth. “I knew it,” she answered softly, “I knew something was going on and I knew it wasn’t just you being sick. I ignored it for too long and I can’t ignore it anymore. You’re better than this Justin, I can’t sit back and watch you hurt yourself. I love you too much.”

            “I love you too. I’m sorry.”

            “You’re sorry?” she shouted with a laugh, “You’re sorry? How are you sorry? Why are you doing this? I can help you. I want to help you. Just tell me why you’re doing heroine.”

            I dropped my head to my hands before answering her, “I don’t know baby it’s not like that. I just… got into it when I was in the studio and we just started smoking it and…”

            “Are you addicted?” she broke in before I could finish.

             I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes, “No, I’m… no. I don’t know.”

            “Could you stop? If I were to take it and flush it down the toilet would you stop or would you go find some more?”

            I’m not going to lie to her. I can’t do it. I’m going to be completely honest and she’s going to freak out but I think we can get through this. “I have more.”

            “You have more,” she repeated, “Do you have like a dealer? Does he know where we live? Oh my god, has he been in the house?”

            “No, of course not. Come on Becca, it’s not like that.”

            “What is it like then? You’re doing heroine in our closet with our two-year-old son across the hall. That’s what it’s like Justin.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “You’re sorry, that’s not good enough.  You’re going to kill yourself, is that what you want? Do you want Lyric to grow up without a father?  Do you want him to think of you as another fucking celebrity that ODs? Do you want him to hate you?”

            I’m not exactly sure if she wants answers to those questions or if they’re supposed to be rhetorical.  She stood up and walked back to the closet only to come back out a few seconds later. “I’m leaving… because I can’t see you like this and you need to get help.  I don’t want Lyric to see you like this and I’m afraid that’s how he’s going to see you forever. So we’re going to go and you’re going to get your shit figured out. I love you. I still love you and I will love you and I’m here. I know that you can get your shit straightened out, and I’m here for you while you’re doing it. I’m going to come see you and I want you to call me when you’re having a hard time and I’ll talk you through it. But I can’t stay here. I know you’re going to get through this. And I love you so much, so please get through this,” she placed her hands on either side of my face and I watched the tears flowing down her face. “But you listen, this is your chance. If you don’t take it seriously we’re leaving and never coming back. Lyric is not going to know you as a druggie. There is no possible way that is going to happen. We will leave and you will never see your son or me again. Do you understand that?”

            I nodded my head as I felt a tear fall down my face, “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t say you’re sorry!” she shouted, “Do something about it. I’m here for you, I will always have my phone on and I will always be here for you. But I’m not going to do it for you. You need to get your own help, you need to want to be helped or it’s not going to happen. I love you.”

            “I love you.”

            “I know. You know that I love you, right Justin? You know that’s why I’m doing this, because I love you. And I know how much you love me and how much you love Lyric, but this is the only way you’ll wake up and realize what’s happening. Please, wake up and realize what you’re doing.”  Becca kissed my lips gently and I watched as she packed some things before going across the hall and packing for Lyric.

            I walked across the hall, leaning against the doorframe of his room, “Where are you going to go?”

            “I don’t know,” she whispered, “I’ll probably try and get a suite at the Wilshire.”

            “And what are you going to do when the paparazzi follows you?” That’s the question I ask. My wife is about to take my son and leave me and the question I ask her is what she’s going to do when there are pictures in the magazines telling the world we’re having problems. That’s fucked up.

            “They’re not going to, it’s late and I’m not going to leave and come back. Please don’t worry about that. I’ll call you as soon as we’re settled and tell you where we are so you don’t have to worry about that either. And I want you to call me as soon as you figured out what you’re doing.” She grabbed the bag of Lyric’s things and placed it in the hall before going back into our room. “Look online at the different rehab centers. There’s Wonderland or that one in Malibu, there’s a lot of nice places, pick one you wouldn’t mind staying at. I’ll come visit you as much as they let me. But you have to work for it; I know you’ll try. Where’s your stash?” she asked before grabbing the baggie she found before and going into the bathroom. I went into the bedroom and grabbed the other bag before following her into the bathroom.

            Becca grabbed it from me, “This is all of it?” I nodded my head; I’m not here to start shit. I just want to get this figured out so I can get on with my life. “Thank you Justin,” she said as she poured it into the toilet. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would to see it go down the drain. Seeing Becca look at me the way she’s looking at me is what hurts the most.

            She kissed me gently, “OK. I’ll call you when we get everything figured out.”

            “You don’t want to wait until the morning?”

            She bit at her bottom lip the way she always does when she feels nervous or uncomfortable. It’s killing me that she’s looking at me like that. “No then everyone will make a big deal out of it. Get a good nights sleep and then do everything in the morning.”

            “I will.”

            “I know you will,” she smiled. It is good that she has faith in me even when I don’t have that much in myself. But she’s giving me this ultimatum. I either get my shit figured out or she’s leaving for good. That’s what I need.

            I grabbed the suitcases and followed her into the hallway while she grabbed onto Lyric. I can’t believe I’m helping her leave me. It doesn’t make sense, but I know deep down that it’s what I have to do. I love my wife and my son more than anything and I know she’s right. I can’t drag them down with me; I need to get my shit figured out.