Wild Reckless (Harper Boys #1)(81)
When the door slams shut behind him, I turn back to my mom, her eyes wide and staring at the door, her face flushed. She stumbles on her feet, her balance failing her, and then grips behind her for her stool, looking for anything to save her. I wait as long as I can, but time is moving, and Owen needs me.
“Mom, I need your help,” I say. She shakes her head, rubbing her temples before nodding a few times and bringing her eyes to me. “It’s Owen…”
I can see her face flash with panic, worry that my father’s guess was right.
“I’m not pregnant!” I blurt out, relief washing over her quickly. “But Owen needs you. It’s his brother, James. He came home, and he’s…” I don’t know how to say this in a way that doesn’t shed more negative light on the Harper family. I don’t know what my mom has heard, and I don’t want to contribute to those terrible rumors, but damn if so many of them aren’t true.
“James is an addict, Mom. He’s detoxing, and Owen’s mom has to work, so Owen’s at home, by himself, trying to take care of James. He doesn’t want Andrew to see any of it, and it’s killing him. Mom…oh god, Mom, it’s so bad,” I fall apart a little, remembering everything I just saw, knowing how hard it is on Owen. I place my palms flat on the counter and breathe deeply, closing my eyes, finding my strength. “Mom, Owen has a game tonight. It’s all he’s got, and he has nobody to help him. Can you just, I don’t know…come take a look? I don’t know what to do, Mom. Please…help.”
My mom stares at me for long seconds, the air around us quiet and cold. I can’t tell if she’s judging Owen and his family, or if she’s just disappointed in me, that this is the person I’ve decided to connect with, the one I’ve decided to love. And I wonder if she knows I love him? She finally stands, silently, and holds a finger up, leaving the kitchen and moving to the stairs. She climbs them and disappears into her bedroom for a few minutes before coming down with a small bag.
“Let’s go,” she says, everything about her shifting into professional. This is the person I need right now, but I know this person is only here because my mother loves me.
I lead her out the door, across our driveways, and into Owen’s house. It’s quiet when we enter, and I’m glad that James isn’t making noise. I’m hopeful that he’s fallen asleep, but I doubt that’s the case.
When we get to the top of the stairs, I hold my hand up, wanting to go in first. My mom stands against the wall, and I look into the room, Owen still cradling his big brother, both of their eyes glazing over, staring into nothingness—each for different reasons.
“Did you get Ryan?” Owen asks, his focus coming back quickly. His arms looking tired.
“No,” I say, and his posture deflates immediately. “But I got help. Please, don’t be mad. She can help.”
His eyes look terrified, and when my mom comes around the corner, Owen actually looks sick with embarrassment. My mom doesn’t let him feel it for long, though, moving quickly into her medical-care mode.
“How long?” she asks, and Owen cocks his head, his forehead creasing with his confusion, his desperation and all of the hurt. “How long has he been detoxing?”
“Oh…uh, maybe a day or two? He was here a few days ago, and I gave him money. I just…” Owen swallows, the guilt swallowing him back. “I just wanted him to leave. But it wasn’t a lot, and I don’t think he bought much.”
“Heroin?” my mom asks, Owen nodding as she rolls James’s listless arm in her hands. “Looks like he’s been getting high for a while.”
My mom sees a lot of junkies. Her hospital is in the middle of Chicago, and she used to take a lot of rounds in emergency. Since she’s been a practitioner, though, she’s seen less, her work more with regular appointments. But addicts come in all shapes and sizes, and she still sees them, at least once a week.
“Can you get to a pharmacy?” she asks, and Owen rubs his fists on his eyes, nodding yes and breathing regularly for the first time since I’ve seen him this afternoon.
“Here, this is for buprenorphine, it will help him through the worst of it,” my mom says, tearing a page from her script book and handing it to Owen. He reaches slowly, their hands touching as she passes this gift on to him. When his hand begins to tremble, she brings her other hand up and holds on tightly, squeezing.
“What is she giving you, O? Owen? What did that woman give you?” his brother’s face is pushed deep into his pillow, his body barely covered with the sweat-soaked blanket, but he’s trying to move. His strength has waned so much that the only thing he seems to be able to control is his neck and mouth. “Owen!”
Owen looks from my mother then to me, finally moving along the floor to kneel in front of James, pressing his hand firmly on his back, like a weighted blanket, his brother’s shivers stopping temporarily under his touch. “I’m going to get you medicine. She’s giving you medicine that’s going to make you feel better. You need to let me go, James. I’ll be right back,” Owen says, standing slowly.
James’s eyes follow every movement as the three of us move out of the room. When we’re in the hallway, Owen turns quickly and wraps his arms around my mom, surprising both her and me. She looks at me over his shoulder and brings her hands slowly up his back to embrace him, holding him to her and telling him it will be all right. But I can tell in her eyes that she doesn’t believe it.