Mary Jane, Jessica Blau [diy ebook reader TXT] 📗

“So you prefer to be in the background?” Dr. Cone asked. Were all psychiatrists like this? It seemed like Dr. Cone offeredvery little. Though maybe his questions were designed to help people come to conclusions on their own.

“Fuck yeah. I was never after fame. All I’ve ever wanted was to make enough money to buy guitar strings and eat. I hate celebrity.If I could do what I do anonymously, I sure as fuck would. I just want to play my damn guitar and sing. I don’t want strangerstalking to me or trying to touch me, or even telling me how much they love my music. And I sure as hell don’t give a shitwhat they think about how I look. In fact, I’d prefer they didn’t look at me at all.”

“Does Sheba’s missing celebrity feel threatening to you?” Dr. Cone tapped his fingertips together, his two hands making theshape of a tent.

“Yeah, it feels threatening. Doc, you more than anyone understand that half the reason I love shooting junk is to get away from feeling like a show pony. I do it to get away from the screaming masses and the greedy fucking producers. When I’m high, celebrity doesn’t exist. It’s just me. Me and my music, numbing out on a level that doesn’t take into account the world and what everyone else wants or needs. When I’ve used, I can hear my thoughts. I can feel my heartbeat. I’m content in just sitting with myself. There’s no self-consciousness. None! It’s fucking soulful, man.”

“No!” Sheba said.

“Jimmy,” Dr. Cone said. “Your soul was there before the drugs. Your soul has peeked out since you’ve been sober, has it not?”

“But junk is a direct line to my soul.” Jimmy thumped his heart with his thumb again.

“That’s not your fucking soul, Jimmy!” Sheba sat up straighter. “That’s fake soul. That’s powder soul. That’s no more soulfulthan Captain and Tennille singing at that damn piano! It’s an illusion!”

“Celebrity’s a fucking illusion, Sheba! We’re all just humans: we’re born, we eat, we shit, we fuck, and then we die. Thefact that random strangers think you and I are better than them is the biggest illusion of all!”

“That’s not true,” Sheba said. “You have more talent than others. You are better than them.”

“I might be better at playing guitar,” Jimmy said. “But there are millions of things that other people are better at. Shit,Mary Jane’s a better cook than everyone here, and she fucking sings better than most people in the studio.”

Goose bumps covered my skin like a sheet that had just been thrown over me. Did Jimmy really think I sang better than somepeople in recording studios?

Mrs. Cone was vigorously nodding. Then she said, “If Sheba loves celebrity and you hate it, isn’t that hard on your marriage?”

“No,” Sheba and Jimmy said at once.

Sheba said, “If we both wanted it, we’d be competing.”

“Like I said, she guards me from it.” Jimmy leaned over and rubbed Sheba’s leg. “She’s my smack.”

“I’d love to be a star,” Mrs. Cone said. “I mean, come on. It’s like being the most popular person in school but school isthe world.” Mrs. Cone hiccuped again. “If I were Sheba, I would pose in Playboy too. Hell, I’d pose in Oui.”

We all looked at Mrs. Cone curiously. Dr. Cone said, “Is being seen like that something you feel you need, Bonnie?”

Mrs. Cone kept talking as if he hadn’t asked a question. “Who wouldn’t be addicted to stardom? I mean, c’mon. Seriously.”

“Well, we’re all addicts of some sort,” Sheba said. “Part of being alive is figuring out the balance between what you want,what you need, and what you have with what you don’t want, don’t need, and don’t have. I mean, Jimmy, man, you are so notalone here. This whole family, each of us, we’re all addicts in one way or another.”

“I’ve grown addicted to pot since you two moved in,” Mrs. Cone said.

“You’re not addicted to pot.” Sheba said it in a way that made it feel irrefutable. “But I am addicted to fame.” I wondered,if Mrs. Cone or Sheba had a sex addiction like me, would they openly admit it? Then again, Sheba did talk about sex with Jimmy,so maybe she would.

Jimmy said, “Richard’s addicted to work. Shit, Richard, you’ve now spent more hours talking to me than my mother has overmy entire life.”

Dr. Cone said, “I may be addicted to work, but you’re in high need now, and I want to see you through to the successful end. I want us all to finish this summer successfully.”

“High need!” Sheba laughed, and held up the joint.

“Mary Jane’s already a success,” Jimmy said. “She’s perfect as she is.”

“Is that how you feel, Mary Jane?” Dr. Cone asked, and everyone turned their heads toward me.

“Well.” I took a deep breath. It felt like my lungs were crated in a metal box that wouldn’t let them expand properly. “Ithink I have problems too.”

“You do?!” Mrs. Cone laughed. “I can’t imagine one thing that’s out of whack for you. Except maybe your parents.”

“You’re safe here, Mary Jane. We’re here to listen. There’s no judgment.” Dr. Cone ran his fingers down his goaty sideburns,like he was combing them.

“Um . . .” My heart was beating so hard, I thought I might pass out. But if there ever was a chance for me to be cured ofmy problem, this seemed like the best place.

“Oh, Mary Jane. Nothing you say could shock us or make us love you any less.” Sheba crawled over Jimmy so that she was besideme. She picked up my hand and held it between her two hands. “You can say it.”

I took a deep breath and then blurted it out before I could think it through any longer. “I think I might be a sex addict.”

There was silence. Sheba put her head closer to mine and stared into my eyes, blinking. I looked toward Dr. Cone. His eyebrowswere drawn together. I’d never seen him look so serious.

“Have you been having reckless