The caring in his words gets to me more than anything else he might have said. I need to get out of there before I break down and cry.
“I’m really sorry, Oscar,” I say. And then I go. I pause at the door, but there’s nothing to say.
It turns out that it’s easier to tell Oscar than it is to tell some other people — once it’s official, that is. On my second visit to New Valley, I tell Devlin that I’ve broken up with Oscar. He asks, in a broken voice, if he has a chance to get me back.
“You have me back,” I say and his eyes fill with tears. “I’ll be here for you all the way. I know you’re going to make it.”
His face is earnest as he vows, “I am going to make it, Lexie.”
I’m glad, so glad, that he’s committed to staying straight. But I know not everyone is going to have the faith I have, or be thrilled to know I’m back with him.
Dori, of course, is true blue to the end. She’s one of the few people who get behind the whole idea.
“I always thought you and Dev were so good together,” she tells me with shining eyes. “And now you two are going to have a happy ending after all.”
My father is definitely less enthused.
“Have you lost your mind?” he wants to know. Standing beside him, Andrea can’t seem to decide whether to look disapproving or concerned. Or maybe she’s constipated, who knows? I somehow manage to keep from telling her to pick a face and stick with it.
“He’s clean now, Dad,” I say. “And he’s going to stay that way.”
“Look, Lexie, it’s not that I didn’t like Devlin. You know he’s been here many times — I thought he was a nice enough kid. But he’s a heroin addict. He’d have to prove himself for a good long time before I’d ever feel comfortable letting you go out with him.”
“So, he’ll do that. Prove himself, I mean,” I say. “We can see each other here if we have to. But I’m not going to turn my back on him now. I can’t, and you can’t ask me to.”
“I don’t want you with him unsupervised until I’m fully, one hundred percent satisfied that it’s safe for you,” Dad says. “Do you give me your word?”
“Yes, sure,” I say, too relieved to argue. I’m surprised he’s not taking a harder line.
“No exceptions. When he gets out of rehab, the only way you’ll see him will be in this house, with either myself or Andrea home. Clear?”
“Yes, Dad, it’s clear!” I say, trying not to sound annoyed. I feel like I’m being treated like a baby, but I know better than to push it. At least, not for a while.
Anyway, I’m sure that once he sees how great Devlin is doing, he’ll loosen up.
Chapter Twelve
I see Devlin four times over the next week. Things are going great. He looks better and better. For one thing, a volunteer hairdresser who comes to the treatment centre once a month has given him a hot new haircut. What’s more, the colour is coming back to his skin and he’s starting to smile. Like the old Dev.
I feel happier than I’ve been in so long. It sits in me, like a joyous song in my heart. I know that sounds lame, but it’s the best I can do to describe it.
I’m off work on Monday and I have time to kill before I go to New Valley for a visit. My stomach is a madhouse of flutters! Today, Devlin will have moved up a step. For the first time since we’ve been back together, we’ll be able to hold hands.
That probably sounds silly, but it’s been torturous, not being able to touch him.
Dori comes over for lunch. I’ve told her the basics of what’s happened, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk.
“I always thought Devlin was the one you really cared for,” she says. “And I knew, if anything would bring him back, it would be you.”
I smile. “It’s been hard, though, Dori. When he was using, it was so awful, because he wasn’t there anymore. His personality just vanished.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if anything like this ever happened to A.J.,” she says with a shudder. “He’s no doper, though, so I think I’m safe. I hope I’d be as strong as you’ve been — not that I ever want to find out. ”
I don’t like the doper comment and the way it implies Devlin was one, which he wasn’t. Not before the heroin. I’m on the verge of telling her the whole truth, but shame keeps me quiet.
I’ve never talked to anyone besides Devlin about Jayden’s party, except at New Valley. I remember waking the next morning, feeling horrible and stunned to remember what had happened the night before. It’s not something I would ever have done if I hadn’t been drinking.
I draw myself back to what Dori is saying and realize she’s asking me about Oscar.
“So, what did he say when you broke up with him?” she asks.
“Oh, Oscar.” I look down at my hands sadly. “It was awful, telling him. He was pretty decent about it, but I know it hurt him.”
“Poor guy,” Dori says. “And poor Jen.”
“Jen?”
“Jen Fahey. I ran into her at the Brentwood Mall on Saturday. She was all excited because she and Oscar started going out a couple of days ago. Obviously, it’s a rebound thing.”
“Oh,” I say. “Right.” I force a smile onto my face. Ridiculous as it is, I feel a bit miffed at the thought that Oscar is already seeing someone else. I tell myself I’m glad, but, really, it’s kind of insulting to be replaced that fast!
Of course, that’s silly. And unimportant. What matters is that Devlin is clean and we’re back together. Kind of a fairy-tale ending.
By the time I get to New Valley, I’ve decided I’m happy about Oscar and Jen. After all, I have Devlin and that’s what matters.
When I get to New Valley at 7:00 I’m nearly sick with excitement, but also shy in a strange kind of way. He is, too; I can see it in his face when he’s ushered into the room.
I’m standing near the window — sitting is impossible when you’re all nerved up that way. He crosses to me, stands there for a second or two and then reaches out a hand and touches my face.
“I’ve been thinking about how soft your skin is,” he says.
Ray is on duty today and he turns his head to the side. I know he can still see us in his peripheral vision, but it’s better than having someone stare straight at you.
Devlin’s hand drops, takes hold of mine, and he draws me to the couch. We sit together and the visit slips by in what seems like seconds. I can hardly remember a thing we talked about afterward, but the pressure of his hand, gently squeezing mine, remains with me for hours.
Chapter Thirteen
It’s all routine by now. Getting buzzed in, locking up my stuff, being eyeballed for any sign of drug use.
I’m a bit early today, which won’t do me any good. It’s not like they’ll start the visit before 7:00. I’ll just end up sitting on a bench beside the lockers, waiting, but I don’t mind. It gives me a good feeling, just thinking about the fact that Devlin is in the building, and knowing that he’ll soon appear and his face will light up with a smile when he sees me. Best of all, he’s moved up another step on the privilege scale. The last two visits he’s been allowed to actually hug me and I can hardly wait.
I go straight to the reception window as soon as I’m inside. There’s a guy there who I haven’t seen before.
“I’m Lexie,” I say, though he already knows that since he just buzzed me in. “Signing in for Devlin.”
“I tried to call you earlier,” he says.
“My phone was charging.” My heart sinks a little. “Did Devlin do something to lose his visit tonight?” The rules at this place can be pretty crazy. You do the least little thing wrong and there goes a privilege.
“I’m sorry, but Devlin left.”
“Left?” He might as well have punched me in the gut. “What do you mean — he left?
”
“He decided not to finish the program.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe he went home,” I say. My heart is pounding with fear.
“It’s possible, but when we called his mother she didn’t seem to be aware of any plan for him to go there.”
“So, maybe he just decided — he can be impulsive,” I say. “He might have felt ready to handle it out of here. There are so many rules in here.”
The guy looks at me sadly. I can see that he’s heard this lots before. People grasping at hope, trying to convince themselves that things will be okay.
The sidewalk blurs as I make my way back to the bus stop. I pull my phone out and dial Devlin’s house. Even as I punch in the numbers, I know he’s not going to be there.
“Hello?” Mrs. Mather’s voice is both strained and eager. I realize at once that she’s hoping the call is from Devlin.
“It’s Lexie,” I say.
“Oh.” No attempt to hide her disappointment.
“I just found out that Devlin left New Valley.”
She starts to sob and the sound makes me cry, too. It’s the first time we’ve agreed on anything since she sent Devlin to the street. When she gets herself under control enough to talk, she moans out, “I don’t know what to do.”
I don’t know, either. “Is there anywhere else he might have gone?” I ask.
“Like where?”
“A relative’s place maybe?”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Lexie. Why would he go to a relative’s house instead of his own home?”
“He might not be sure he can come home,” I say. I think, but don’t add, since you threw him out before.
She starts to cry again. I guess she got the message, anyway. “Of course he can come home — if he’s not using,” she blubbers. “Do you think he’s already taken something?”
I ask myself, is there any faint hope that Devlin left New Valley for any other reason than to score and get high?
“Probably,” I say. “Unless he hasn’t been able to get any.”
“Maybe he hasn’t!” she says. “He didn’t have any money. If we could find him in time, we might be able to talk him into going back to the treatment centre.”
It’s a thin hope, but somehow I buy in. Ten minutes later she’s pulling up at the stop and I’m getting into her car.
For the next few hours we drive up and down the streets surrounding Main and Hastings. Devlin is most likely to be in that area, but I know there are other places, as well. If he managed to get his hands on some cash, he’ll be out of sight somewhere. We could be driving right past him and never know it.
There are lots of people around — most of them in their twenties, a few older and some teens. They’re in doorways and alleys and leaning against buildings. Some are moving aimlessly along the street. Others have that quick and nervous “gotta score” twitch in their step.
Most ignore us. Those who pay any attention at all watch us with a sort of detached interest. I suppose they’re used to seeing desperate family members searching for loved ones.
“Maybe we should ask a few people if they’ve seen him,” Mrs. Mather suggests.
“No one here is going to help us,” I tell her.
“I have a picture of him in my wallet,” she says next. “What if we show it around and offer a reward if anyone can tell us where he is?”
“In that case,” I say with a sigh, “everyone will know where he is. Except nothing they tell you will be true.”
She knows I’m right. She doesn’t argue, but tears slide down her cheeks.
“I’ve never known what to do about this, Lexie,” she tells me.
It’s probably the closest she’s ever come to wondering if she made a mistake by putting Devlin out of the house. But then, I’ve enabled him, taking him money, so who am I to judge her? At least she wasn’t helping him get high.
“I don’t think it matters that much,” I say. “There isn’t a whole lot anyone can do until he’s ready to get clean.”
“I thought this was it,” she whispers.
“So did I. So did Devlin, I think. At least he made a start. We just have to believe he’ll come around again, and be there for him when he does.”
“I’m so afraid,” she says, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I don’t answer. I don’t want to hear about her fears. It’s all I’ve been able to do to keep mine from crowding in on me. Too many terrible endings are possible. Devlin, wasting away, month by month, year by year — disappearing more and more into this world of the living dead. Devlin, dead from an overdose, or AIDS. Devlin, brain damaged from a bad dose or a beating.
Thankfully, I’m drawn from these thoughts when a familiar-looking figure appears from around a corner ahead.
“Is that him?”
A bright burst of hope, quickly gone when we draw closer and see that it isn’t Devlin. The disappointment is bitter and every moment that ticks by erodes what hope remains.
We give up a little while before midnight. When Devlin’s mother drops me off at my place we’re both too exhausted to speak. I get out of the car and go into the house without looking back.
Chapter Fourteen
I know he’ll call. He’ll call and tell me what happened and why he left New Valley. We’ll talk and, even though he’s using again, it will be different. This time he’ll listen, because now he wants help. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have gone for treatment in the first place.
I know he’ll never call. He was clean, we were back together — he had every reason in the world to stay off it. And he made a choice. He chose to live in filth on the street. He chose to go back to getting into cars with men. He picked heroin over his family and his girlfriend — over his life. He picked heroin over everything.
I go back and forth constantly. It will come out okay. It will never be okay.
I cling to some of the things he said in meetings. Like the reasons he swore he would never go back to the street.
* * *
“You know that first high?” he asked. “The rush that goes through you?”
“But you got so sick,” I pointed out. “Way worse than I did. You threw up, like, four times.”
“Didn’t matter,” he told me. “I still wanted that feeling again. But I never got it.”
I guess I looked as surprised as I felt to hear that. He explained.
“You never get that first-time feeling back,” he said. “You just keep chasing it. And then, after a while, you realize you really aren’t getting high at all. Once you’re hooked and you use for a while, you need it just to feel normal, to walk around with your head up and to be able to talk to people. You’re empty and numb and the only thing you care about is your next fix.”
* * *
I try not to picture the look on Devlin’s face when he talked about that first time. I try not to think about the fact that he didn’t want to do it — wasn’t going to do it, until I persuaded him.
I call New Valley the fourth day after Devlin left, and ask to speak to Ray Li. I’m not even sure, as I dial, why I’m calling. I just need to talk to someone.
“It’s Lexie,” I say when he comes to the phone. “I just wondered if maybe anyone there had heard from Devlin. And since you worked with him a lot, I figured you’d know.”
“Sorry,” Ray tells me, “but he hasn’t called.”
“People who leave the way Devlin did — do they ever come back right away?”
“It happens, sure. But it’s been, what, three, four days now?”
“Four,” I say. “Is that bad?”
“Leaving at all is bad, but now and then someone will call within a day or two. Sometimes they haven’t even use
d and they come back. Or, if they have used, it’s a one-, maybe two-time thing, and they get right back into the program.”
Ray pauses. I wait without speaking. I know there’s more coming.
“Once they’re out for any longer than that, it’s usually because they’ve slipped right back into their old pattern of using. And honestly, using even once is really dangerous when someone is off the stuff for a while.”
“Like, for an overdose?” I ask, even though I’m afraid of the answer.
“There’s always a danger of overdose,” Ray says. “Some of the stuff out there is pretty pure and no one knows exactly what they’re getting when they score. There have been cases, too, of kids smoking it off the wrong surface and dying, or being severely brain damaged. None of it is really safe. But that’s not actually what I meant.
“What I did mean, is that, when an addict is off heroin for a while and uses again, it gives them the kind of high that got them hooked in the first place. You heard Devlin describe how using gets to be something to keep from going into withdrawal. But after they’re clean, they get the high back — the rush. For a while, anyway. And because of that, it’s really easy for them to sink back into full-blown use again.”
“I was thinking, if I could find him, maybe I could get him to come back,” I say. “Do you have any suggestions? Like, things I could say to him that might work?”
“Honestly, Lexie, my best advice to you is to stay as far away from Devlin as you can. Until he decides on his own to get back into treatment, there really isn’t anything you can say or do.”
“I just want to help,” I say.
“I get that. But you’re far more likely to end up getting hurt. It’s kind of like standing on a chair and trying to pull someone who’s standing on the floor up. They’ll drag you down a lot faster than you’ll pull them up onto it.”
“There’s one other thing I’ve been wondering. A lot,” I tell Ray.
“Okay,” he prompts.
“Why didn’t I get hooked, too? We both tried it the same way at the same time. How come Devlin ended up addicted and I never touched it again?”
Accomplice Page 5