Addison (The Mitchell/Healy Family #6)(6)

It was important to have the patient verify certain details in order to start up a conversation and get a feel for their personality. If he was crude or threatening I was supposed to walk out and have a psychiatrist come in to take over.

“I guess that’s how it would seem.”

“Seem? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“My foster brother Joe brought me in. It’s like him to keep our relationship a secret, since he’s the law and I’m obviously just a piece of shit.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know Joe has siblings.”

“Like I said, we’re not. His parents took me in when my mom abandoned me when I was ten. Save me the sad face. I don’t give a shit about her or what you think she did to make me turn out this way. I’m here to get clean and go on about my life.”

“What about your dad?”

“I never knew him. Next question.”

I sat down in a chair near him, not prepared to walk out like he wanted me to do. “I saw you at the meeting the other day.”

“Joe drove me there. How’s that for a homecoming?” His sarcastic tone was obvious.

“So you’re not from around here?” It explained why I’d never seen him before.

“Not for a while. I joined the Army after high school. I was discharged after a few years, but stayed in Georgia until last week.”

I tried to stay serious, even though I found myself wanting to know more about him on a personal level, which was out of character for me. Sure, I was friendly with most patients, but this guy did something else to me entirely. “You’re here because you’re withdrawing. How long have you been using?”

“Does it even matter how long?”

“What’s your go-to?” I inquired.

He looked over at me, taking me in, making me feel like he was unclothing me with his eyes. He snickered before answering. “What was yours?”

I tapped my pen on the paper. “I don’t think that has anything to do with you.”

“If you want me to cooperate you’re going to have to divulge some things about yourself. Isn’t that why you’re here? They want someone who I can relate to.”

“I dabbled in a lot of things,” I looked away from him as I continued. “When I reached my breaking point it was heroin.”

“Yeah, it’s strong shit. It definitely does the job from what I hear. I prefer pills – any kind of opiate I can get my hands on. Of course let’s not forget the meth. The clinics don’t tell you it’s just as addicting. Then there’s the Roboxines. They were my choice. Once I had a week of them I knew I found a new favorite, even if it killed me.”

“Why are you still here then?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He reached forward and grabbed the underneath of his knees, stretching out his muscular arms. His tattoos were intricate. Whoever worked on him was a real professional. “I’m here to get clean.”

“What changed?”

“Well, I lost my job. Then I lost my apartment, my girlfriend, and finally my motorcycle. I had to call Joe to come pick me up, but he’d only agree to it if I got help. I did good for the first couple days. The medicines were still lingering, and I’d brought a few to wean myself with. While I was out at the meeting the other night, the one you met me at, Joe went through my bags. He found my stash and the rest is history.”

“I have to ask, do you want to be clean, or are you doing this for the people that care for you?” It was so important for this guy to want to get help on his own, not be forced into the decision.

“Does it matter? Seriously? Do you care about my well-being? Will your life end if I don’t care either way?”

“My life has nothing to do with yours. I’m simply asking a question.” Giving it to him straight was important. He needed to know he couldn’t get under my skin. This was what most addicts did. They put blame on others, or made conversations about them instead.

Cole got up and ran into the bathroom again. I waited a few minutes, but then heard him in excruciating pain. Rushing into the bathroom was my first instinct. It was hard seeing him in such a state, clung to the black rimmed seat for dear life. I grabbed him a wet paper towel and handed it over. In between spews he said, “You really want to ask me if I want this today?”

“I’m sorry. It’s protocol.”

“Fuck protocol. Come back tomorrow and see if I survive the night. I’m done talking.”

I backed myself out of the room. “It gets better, Cole. I promise it does.”

Sammy was still sitting at her station when I exited the room, hunching over to calm down. Being around Cole in this situation only made my own memories come back. I hated that person I was when I was using, but I’d be lying to myself if a small part of me didn’t remember the feeling of being numb from the world. Life was hard, and it was obvious Cole had it bad.

“You okay?” She asked as I finally walked toward her.

“I’ll have to come back to talk to him at a later time. He’s in no condition to be drilled by the likes of me.”

“The only drilling you need done is a -.”

I threw up both hands. “Okay, okay. Enough of the jokes today. Seriously, he’s in bad shape.”