Intervention

by Terri Blackstock

  “I’d hoped. What good was all that suffering while she sat in jail, if she didn’t change?”

  “Your suffering, or hers?”

  Barbara looked at Trish. “Both.”

  “Again, you’re doing the hard things because you expect them to change her. You need to shift your thinking. Tomorrow, if she refuses to go and you have to put her out, do it because you and your son refuse to keep participating in her destruction. Do it for the mental and emotional protection of you and Lance. And you have to convey that to her. Make her understand you’ve come to the end of your rope.”

  Barbara leaned her head back on the seat. “She has to go with you. That’s all there is to it.”

  Trish reached over the backseat and got her bag. “Sometimes they want treatment,” she said. “Sometimes they’re more fed up than you know with the endless cycle they’re caught in. Constantly trying to get enough money to score another hit, thinking about it every waking moment, and never able to get that high they’re looking for. Running on that horrible treadmill just to feel normal — or their version of normal. Do you think she’s there yet?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. I was hoping you were here to convince her, even if she doesn’t want help.”

  “I can only do so much.”

  So what had this extra thirty-five-hundred-dollar fee paid for? A free vacation for this woman? “She has to go with you. If she doesn’t, she’ll wind up in jail.”

  “Or dead.”

  Dead. No, Barbara couldn’t survive burying anyone else. “I can’t let that happen. This has to work.”

  “I’ll give it everything I’ve got. Maybe she’s sick of her disease.”

  Barbara fought the urge to argue semantics. She hated the AA words like disease and relapse, like it was a virus Emily had caught somewhere. Yet she couldn’t deny that Emily was sick.

  Trish opened her car door. “What time will you pick me up?”

  Barbara tried to think. The flight she’d booked for Trish and Emily was at three p.m. tomorrow, and this thing could take hours. They had to start early. “Eight a.m. I’ll get her up while you’re there.”

  “Tonight, you need to take her car to a friend’s house. Park it there and hide the keys. If it’s not in the driveway, she can’t talk you into giving her the keys. If she leaves, it’ll have to be without the car.”

  That wouldn’t be hard. Emily could have one of her drug buddies there in minutes.

  “Hopefully, her connection with you and her brother will be enough to make her go. And I’ll do my part to make her see the possibilities.” She got out her cigarettes, pulled one out. “It’ll be okay. Most of the interventions I do are successful.”

  “But there’s no guarantee.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  She’d have to pay her whether Emily agreed to go or not. It had to work. Her resources were running out.

  two

  Morning was slow in coming. All night, Barbara’s mind raced through possible outcomes. A year ago when she’d tried to force sobriety on her daughter, Emily had run out in a rage and called a cab, which took her to a place where she could use without censure. It had taken Barbara a week to locate her. Emily’s network of drug-using friends was loyal and kept secrets well.

  Barbara had taken pains to keep that from happening this time. She’d made certain Emily had no cash or credit cards in her wallet. Emily’s car was parked in the driveway of Barbara’s assistant who lived fifteen miles away, and the keys were well hidden. Barbara had taken Emily’s cell phone out of her purse and her landline from her room. The keyboard to her computer was hidden in Barbara’s closet so Emily couldn’t communicate with her friends during the intervention.

  Still, her daughter’s resourceful, conniving mind usually ran a few steps ahead of Barbara’s. She had tried many times to guess what Emily might do in a given situation, but Emily almost always surprised her.

  “Mom?”

  Startled, Barbara sat up in bed and turned on her lamp. Her fourteen-year-old son, Lance, stood in her doorway, his dark hair tousled from his pillow. She glanced at the clock. It was five a.m. The sun hadn’t begun to come up yet.

  “What is it?”

  He sat down on her bed. “I could tell you weren’t sleeping. I listened at the door, and you weren’t snoring.”

  “I don’t snore!”

  “You do, Mom. It’s not the demonic, gargoyle kind of snore, like Jacob’s dad does, but you definitely cut some Z’s.”

  He looked like he’d had a rough night, as well. “So, you couldn’t sleep, either?” she asked.

  “No. I keep thinking about how Emily’s gonna react when she sees that lady. She’ll just freak. It’s not gonna be fun. Mom, are you sure it’s the right thing?”

  Barbara had asked herself that question a million times. “Honey, what do you think will happen to her if we don’t intervene?”

  He considered that for a moment, his blue eyes soft in the lamplight. “I don’t know. I guess she’ll die.”

  “Then we have no choice, do we?”

  “But maybe she’ll come to her senses. I know a guy who had a brother who was heavy into cocaine or something, and one day he just got sick of it and quit.”

  “Emily’s addiction has taken over her mind, Lance. She’s not thinking clearly. I don’t think she can quit without some help.”

  “But if we force her to go, don’t you think she’ll just wait to get out and go right back to it, like she did the other times?”

  “My hope is that she’ll get sober there, and then she’ll be able to think clearly. If she gets back into her right mind, she’ll want to get well, won’t she? How could anybody in their right mind not want that?”

  Lance lay down next to her, on the pillow where his dad once slept. “I don’t know, Mom. Maybe her mind is wrecked so bad that she can’t ever think like that again.”

  Barbara stared at the ceiling. “Then we’ll keep her alive for the next few months. After that, we’ll figure out another way to keep her alive.”

  Lance lay silently for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Can’t we do it another day, and just go to the zoo or something?”

  Barbara smiled. If only she could turn back time, to before Emily had her driver’s license and all the freedom that entailed. If only she could have her as a bright-eyed kid again, happy and enthusiastic, with hopes and dreams as big as the universe.

  “I wish the zoo was the answer,” she whispered. “But this is big.”

  “You could ditch the rehab lady and take her yourself. At least then she wouldn’t be so scared. I’d be scared if some stranger showed up to take me across the country.”

  “What do you think would happen if I did that? First of all, she’d never go. She’d flat-out refuse. And if I did get her on the plane, she’d spend the whole time trying to talk me out of it. By the time we got there, Lance, she’d have me so worn down that I’d give in for sure.”

  “Yeah, she would.”

  “We can’t force her to go. All we can do is make her understand that if she won’t go, she won’t have our support anymore.”

  “That’s forcing her, Mom.”

  “No, she still has a choice. Deep inside that brain of hers, maybe she really wants a way out of this bondage.”

  “I hope so. I’m sick of all the drama.”

  “Me too.” She closed her eyes as painful memories flooded her mind. “Hey, Lance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t make me go through this again with you. Look at what drugs are doing to your sister, and decide never to use them.”

  “I won’t. I like my teeth. Emily’s look bad.”

  Just another casualty of Emily’s drug use. After never having cavities as a child and wearing braces for a year, the drugs and nicotine were ruining her smile.

  “I mean it,” she said. “There’ll come a day when you’ll have the chance, and you’ll think it’s no big deal. That you can handle it. But that’s
a lie straight out of hell.”

  “I know. I’ve already had the chance, and I did say no.”

  She sat up and looked down at him. “You had the chance? You’re only fourteen. Where did you have the chance?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mom. The bottom line is that I didn’t do it.”

  “Who offered it to you? One of your friends? Are they already using?”

  “You can get it anywhere. If I wanted to do it I could. But I’m not a loser like Emily.”

  “Your sister is not a loser.” Barbara dropped back down on the bed. The ceiling fan had a spider web trailing across the blades. There had been a time in her life when they were spit-polished. Everything was once nice and neat, organized and beautiful — like an advertisement for her interior design business. Now bedlam ruled her home. “I wish I could gather you both up and take you to some Utopia where nothing bad could ever happen to you. I want you away from a culture that could do this to its young.”

  “It’s not so bad, Mom.” Lance’s eyes were closed, and his voice was a whisper. “You did your job. You raised us right.”

  “Did I?” Barbara’s mind did its familiar replay of all those critical moments in Emily’s life when she’d done the wrong thing. She’d put her in the wrong high school, allowed her freedom too soon, failed to say no enough. There hadn’t been enough consequences for her infractions, and the consequences Emily had faced had been too severe. Barbara had been overbearing and under-attentive. She’d yelled too much, let too much pass.

  She heard Lance falling into a gentle sleep. The soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing told her she’d lost him.

  Funny, how a parent’s goals could change. She had once dreamed of college and careers for her children, godly spouses and bouncing grandchildren. Though she still held that dream for Lance, she had only two goals for Emily — to keep her daughter from prison or death.

  That had to be enough for now.

  Tears burned as she thought of John, who’d died entrusting these children to her. She had done a terrible job with Emily. What would he think if he came back for a day, and found that his daughter had given her life to drugs?

  She wished he could be here to sit through this intervention with her. He would be able to convince Emily to go. But if he were here, her daughter never would have chosen to medicate away her grief.

  Unable to sleep, Barbara got up to shower and get ready for this fateful day. She was a soldier going into battle, embarking on a fight for the soul of her child. Defeat was not an option.

  three

  Emily was hard to wake. Barbara stood over her bed, shaking her gently, pulling her from her sleep. Emily had slept fully dressed in a ragged pair of jeans that she’d worn for a week, and a Third Eye Blind T-shirt that reeked of odors Barbara couldn’t name. Tangled hair strung into her eyes, unwashed and greasy, thinner than it was a month ago. Deep, dark circles hung like bruises under her eyes.

  Barbara had left Lance in the living room making awkward conversation with Trish, who sipped black coffee, waiting to do what they’d paid her to do. Barbara’s heart was heavy as she turned Emily over and shook her again. “Emily, wake up, honey.”

  Emily’s eyes slit open. “What? I’m sleeping.”

  “I need you to get up.”

  “Leave me alone.” She turned over again and pulled her pillow over her head.

  “Emily, get up. Now.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s eight-thirty.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m not getting up at eight!”

  Losing her patience, Barbara threw back the covers and pulled Emily up to a sitting position. “I want you to come into the living room. Somebody’s here to see you.”

  Emily squinted up. “Who?”

  “Come out and you’ll see.”

  “No, tell me now. Is it the police?”

  Barbara’s heart sank. Did Emily know something Barbara didn’t know? Were the police after her? Barbara crossed to the door, opened it. “Come on.”

  Emily slid out of bed. “Can I at least go to the bathroom?”

  “Yes, but hurry.” She watched as Emily dragged herself into the hall, to the bathroom next door. She followed her and waited outside the door. Emily was taking way too long. Was she using? How would they get through to her if she was high?

  Barbara opened the door. Emily stood at the sink, pills in her hand.

  “What is wrong with you?” Emily yelled, hiding them. “Why can’t you give me some privacy?”

  This wasn’t going well. Barbara’s job was to get Emily to the living room quietly, in a non-threatening way. The introduction of her interventionist was supposed to be done calmly — not with yelling and anger. By the time Barbara got her in there, Emily would have her defenses up as high as the Berlin Wall.

  “Someone needs to talk to you. It’s an emergency.”

  “Are they arresting me? Because I didn’t do anything.”

  The thought of the police was only making Emily drag her feet. “No, it’s not the police. It’s a family meeting.”

  “At the crack of dawn?” Emily’s defenses lowered a bit. “Okay, fine, I’m coming.”

  Barbara wished Emily would take a moment to brush her teeth and hair. For some reason, she wanted Emily to make a good impression on the woman who dealt each day with those who’d ravaged their own bodies with poisons of every flavor.

  Instead, Emily came out of the bathroom looking like she’d just been dragged from a crack house. Arms crossed over her chest, she followed Barbara into the living room. Her gaze landed on the strange woman sitting in her dad’s recliner. She paused and hugged herself tighter. “Who are you?”

  “Emily, this is Trish Massey.”

  Trish stood up. “I’m a counselor, Emily. Can we talk for a minute?”

  Emily frowned and sat on the couch next to her brother. Lance couldn’t meet her eyes. Barbara’s heart hammered so hard that she feared Emily could see her blouse thumping as she sat down on the other side of her.

  “Your family asked me to come here and talk to you about your drug problem.”

  Emily sprang up. “This is a setup! One of those stupid interventions. I should have known. I’m not sitting here for this.”

  “Emily, just hear me out.”

  Barbara stood and took Emily’s hand, trying to keep her from walking away. She jerked back. Lance stuck out his legs and blocked her on the other side.

  “I don’t have a drug problem,” she said. “I’m fine. Do I look like I’m on drugs?”

  “Actually, yes,” Trish said.

  Emily turned on Barbara. “I knew I couldn’t trust you! This is as bad as the cops.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Barbara tried to keep her voice calm. “We’re trying to help you.”

  Calmly, Trish nodded to Lance and said, “Go ahead and read your letter.”

  “No, I’m not listening!” Emily cried. “This is garbage. I’m not doing this!”

  She stepped over Lance’s legs and moved around the couch, headed for the front door. Barbara sprang up and blocked her at the foyer. “Emily, you can’t leave. Your car isn’t here. I moved it.”

  “You stole my car?”

  “I own your car.”

  Emily let out a frustrated yell. “Forget it, I’ll call somebody.”

  “Your mother hid the phones too,” Trish said. “And your computer is disabled. You need to sit down and listen.”

  Emily looked like a trapped animal. “I’ll walk, then.”

  “Emily,” Trish said, “all we’re asking is a few minutes. I know you don’t want to be like this. Just hear us out.”

  Trish met Barbara’s eyes. They’d talked about this. It would all have to be done in order, Trish had told her on the way to the house. If they let Emily leave the room, she would get the upper hand.

  “I know what those stupid letters say! I’ve watched that show on TV, with those lame interventions. They’re all about how much you love me and want
to see me get help. But I don’t need help.”

  Trish nodded to Lance to start reading. He looked like he’d rather be dragged behind a car.

  “Dear Emily,” he began. “We used to be closer, but in the last few years you’ve changed.”

  Emily turned back and jerked the letter out of his hand. She ripped it into little pieces and let it snow down onto the floor. “I’m not listening,” she shouted into his face.

  Lance sprang up, his cheeks blotched red. “You’re gonna die, just like Dad. How fair is that, huh? He’s probably watching from heaven and crying because you weren’t supposed to be stupid!”

  She flinched like she’d been slapped.

  “He thought you were gonna be somebody!” Lance yelled.

  “Shut up, Lance!” Emily cried. “I don’t want to talk about Dad.”

  “He died proud of you!” Lance shouted. “You think he’s proud now?”

  Emily’s face twisted, and tears muddied the mascara smudged under her eyes. She turned to Barbara, still blocking her. “Get out of my way.”

  “Emily, I took your cash, your phone, your keys. You can’t leave.”

  Trish’s voice rose above the chaos. “Emily, I work at the Road Back Recovery Center. It’s north of Atlanta, on twenty acres. It’s a beautiful, peaceful place, and it changed my life when I was in your shoes.”

  “No! The last thing I want is to be around a bunch of dope-sick addicts. I’m not like them.”

  Lance’s eyes were moist. “Emily, I saw the website. It’s really pretty, on some river. They have boats and a pool.”

  Emily smeared her tears across her face. “I don’t want to leave my friends and change my whole life. I need to at least say goodbye. I need a few days to pack and get my stuff together. Then maybe I’ll go.”

  “No, honey,” Barbara said. “We have an airline ticket for you today at three.”

  Emily grunted. “No way I’m getting on a plane today! And you’re sending me off with somebody I don’t even know? That’s just like you, Mom. Dad would never hire some stranger to do his dirty work!”

  That knocked the wind out of Barbara, and Emily took the opportunity to push past her into the hallway. Before Barbara could stop her, Emily had slammed herself into her room.