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I don't know if I loved Shayla properly. I don't know if I loved her, or if I could have.
I hate admitting this to you. To myself.
Shayla was my next door neighbor turned drug dealer turned sex partner turned girlfriend just because I needed a date for my boss' dinner party.
Turned dead now. Because of me. That makes this all the more painful to think about.
Through all of it, though, she was also my friend. Talking to me and understanding me the best she could came as easy to her as it does to Angela. She was even more patient with me than Angela is, which was entirely new to me. No one has ever been as patient with me. Not even Krista, my therapist, which is saying something.
And then there was the sex. That was entirely new to me, too. We didn't have it often, and we always got high first. I don't know how I feel about it, having sex in general. I don't know. Doesn't matter.
I just don't know what love is. I don't know what it's supposed to be.
I love Angela, I know that. But I've only ever known that love as her friend. What's it like to go beyond that?
Whatever the answer to that is, I don't think it was like that with Shayla.
Maybe this is a way I'm dealing with her death. Just convincing myself so I won't be heartbroken or something. I don't feel any less terrible, though. If that's what I'm doing, it isn't working.
I miss her. I do. I would do anything to bring her back. Or would I? My morals and priorities have been compromised lately. I can't tell what's me now from what was me before.
But yeah, I miss her. I'm at least certain of that.
So I'm certain I cared about her, too. She cared about me. She tried to keep me from becoming a junkie, even though me becoming a junkie was helping pay her bills. She gave me good deals on top of that. She tried to make sure her business with Vera wouldn't affect me, due to our closeness and Vera's possessiveness. She let Vera have his sick way with her because he was the only supplier of my morphine withdrawal meds. She never pushed me to do anything if I said I didn't want to. She showed me the quilts she made, and other things I could never have known from hacking her. She took care of Flipper and Qwerty when I needed her to... She gave me Qwerty. The circumstances were weird, but...
That's right. That's how we met.
I forget that. I don't think of her at all when I look at Qwerty now. I used to like thinking of her when I looked at Qwerty. Especially when I was high. I would look at Qwerty for what felt like eternity then. But I don't get high anymore.
The druggie arc of my life is over and Shayla was the biggest and the best part of it. It's good I don't use anymore, but if she could still be alive then I would go back to it even if it meant destroying myself.
Oh.
Good. There we go. It must be true I would do anything to bring her back. I'm not as fucked up as I was afraid I was... Or does this mean I am?
I don't know.
If only I hadn't turned Vera in. I wouldn't be having this dilemma. I would be with her and we would be okay. Not perfect, but okay, and maybe happy at least sometimes.
And I would still have the chance to learn what love is supposed to be.