Addiction

by Margaret McHeyzer

“You’ve got your meetings set up, you know where they are. You know what to do. I’ve never seen anyone as determined to succeed as you. You won’t relapse, and you know how I know?” I shake my head in response. “Because I’ll kick your ass if I see you in here again.”

  I smile. That’s Anna for you. Tough, supportive, but also, she has a sense of humor. I hug her again, but this time, I cry. “Thank you, for everything.”

  “Right. I have work to do, and I don’t like talking to the riff-raff.” She winks at me, and I smile again.

  “You made my time here… ” I pause for a second, thinking of the right word to say. It’s not been comfortable, or easy by any stretch. “… safe,” I finally find the right word. Safe, yep, perfect. “It wasn’t easy. And I know I’m a drug addict for life, regardless how many years of sobriety I have. But I never felt like I was in fear of my life while being here. And that’s because of your kindness. It must be hard for you. Seeing people like me coming through, and trying to show us kindness only to have us spit, yell and try to hurt you.”

  Anna smiles. Her face lights up as she’s nodding. “But these moments right here make it all worth it. Because I know you’re going to walk out of here, and not only are you going to survive, but you’re going to thrive. Hannah, you have a story to tell. You’ve lived through becoming another number, and have come out the other end. Keep that fire burning. Never let it go out, and I know you’ll be stronger than you ever have been.”

  “I don’t feel strong. I feel vulnerable.”

  “Good, so you should. And you should feel humble too. You’ve put a lot of people through shit. And now’s the time to make it right. Remember, don’t get frustrated when they don’t trust you straight away. Because, that’s gone, for now. But it doesn’t mean you can’t earn that trust back.”

  “I know.” I shake my head and look down to my shoes again. “I’ll spend a life time trying to make it right to everyone I’ve done wrong to.”

  She hugs me again. I like Anna’s hugs. They’re genuine, like she is. “Now, go and say goodbye to everyone else. Remember, this isn’t somewhere I want to see you again. I’m not going to say I’ll miss you, because I won’t. Instead, I’m going to believe you’ll leave here and spread those wings. Soar, Hannah, soar.” She turns and walks away, leaving me in my room.

  I sit on my bed, the bed I’ve had for the past month, and look around at the off-white walls. It’s somewhat sterile, but this has been my safe room. Where I’ve cried. Where I’ve begged them to let me leave. Where I’ve come to terms with what I’ve become and what I’ve done.

  “Knock-knock,” Mom says as she comes into my room.

  “Mom,” I hug her tight and don’t let go. “I don’t know if I can do this.” I cry into her hair.

  “You can,” Dad says from behind Mom. I extend my arm to include him in the hug. The three of us are huddled together.

  “I still struggle with reality, and delusions. But, I think I’m getting better. I know what my reality is now, but I’m still not sure what did and didn’t happen while I was using.”

  “We’ll help you, sweetheart,” Dad whispers. “We’ll always be here.” I step out of the hug, and turn to get my bag. “I’ll take it.” Dad places his hand over mine which is over the handle. I smile at him.

  Walking out of here is bittersweet and surreal.

  Growing up I never imagined I’d be in a place like this. I never thought I’d become addicted to drugs, and I never thought I’d do and say the most horrible things to the people who love me most.

  But here I am, a drug addict, leaving rehab.

  The bars on my windows are gone, and my room is bright. This is my happy place. Mom’s changed the bedding. It’s bright and yellow and it gives me hope that I’m going to be okay.

  “Are you okay?” Dad asks as he wheels my bag behind him.

  I nod, then slowly my nod turns to a shake. Tears fall as I try to really grasp the reality of this all. “I’ve screwed so many things up.”

  Dad doesn’t give me a chance to sit, he hugs me. His hands rubbing my back gently. “Yes, you have. But you know this. And now you’ve got the tools to cope with making everything right.”

  “I feel so bad.” He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him nodding. “I have to make it right.”

  “You do, but everything has to be done slowly, Hannah. You’ve only been clean for a month. What’s happened to you, what you’ve been through, it’s going to take more than a month to understand the full effect. Be kind to yourself. And be forgiving.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” I cry into his chest.

  This has to be the hardest day of my life. I’m facing all my demons. Every one of them.

  “I know.” He kisses me on the forehead, then leaves.

  Sitting on my bed, I gather the courage to do what I have to.

  First and foremost, I need to make peace with my neighbors. Especially Mrs. Drew who I accused of being a pedophile. I stand from my bed, and make my way out to the family room. Mom and Dad are talking in a low voice, and I’d be a fool to think they’re not talking about me. “Everything okay?” Mom asks.

  I nod and smile. “I’m going to knock on every house, and apologize to them.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Mom says as she steps toward me.

  “I do,” I reply. “I have to be accountable for my actions. And this is the first thing I need to do.”

  “It can wait ’til tomorrow. Just stay here, settle into home life before you do that. We’ll get pizza.”

  “Mom.” I take a deep breath. “I need to do this now before I lose my nerve. Starting with Mrs. Drew. If I don’t, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I need to do this, for them and for me.”

  Mom looks me over and nods. She decides I’m right. I do need to be accountable for my actions. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  I want to say yes, but I did this alone. I caused this terrible rift between the neighbors, not them. “Can you stand at the door please?”

  “Of course.”

  We walk together. My hands are sweating, and my heart is beating like a hummingbird’s. But I need to start regaining control over my life. I have to. There’s no other way.

  I open the door, and walk across the lawn to Mrs. Drew’s home. It seems like it takes me a long time to get up the nerve to actually knock. When I do, she opens immediately. I wasn’t expecting her to be here so fast. “Hannah,” she says with a warm smile.

  I look down at my feet. I don’t deserve her warmth. I deserve her to be angry at me. “Mrs. Drew,” my voice cracks, but I hold onto the little bit of strength I have.

  “Yes, dear.”

  Mrs. Drew is old. Maybe in her late sixties. Her thinning gray hair, and wrinkled face tells me she could even be older than her sixties. I take several deep breaths. I want to run and hide, but I have to do this. I have to confront the monster I once was, and own it. I breathe out a shaky breath.

  Lifting my head, I look her straight in the eyes. “I’m a drug addict,” I say owning my worst. “I said horrible things to you. I called you a pedophile, and I accused you of doing horrible things to me.” She nods her head. Her eyes don’t change, her expression remains the same. “I’m… ” I begin to break. I’m trying hard to hold in the tears, but I can’t. I need to do this. For me and for her. “I’m sorry for everything I said and did.” I break. Spectacularly.

  Mrs. Drew doesn’t move to touch me. She takes a breath herself. “I know you are,” she finally says. “And I accept your apology, Hannah.”

  “Thank you.”

  I don’t know what else to say and do. If I could tell her I’m sorry for a lifetime, I would, but I can’t. I have to move on. I turn to leave. “Hannah,” she calls me back.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply and turn around to face her again.

  “Become a warrior and make a difference,” she says and offers me another smile.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Although I don’t exactly know what
she means. I’m barely hanging on to my sanity, how am I supposed to be a warrior and make a difference? “Thank you,” I say again.

  She closes the door.

  And I slowly walk to the next neighbor.

  As I walk from house to house, the humiliation doesn’t get easier. I’m eternally humbled by the fact they all accept my apology. They don’t have to, but they do.

  Walking back home, I hug my parents before collapsing on the sofa in a mentally exhausted state.

  Tonight, it’s the neighbors, but tomorrow it’s Kristen and Martin.

  Chapter 32

  “Martin’s here,” Dad says as he stands at my door.

  I’m dreading this. Really terrified, but I need to do it. It’s part of my recovery. Last night I slept like shit. I tossed and turned all night. I’d sleep for what felt like hours, but it was only a few moments, then I’d wake, anxious about today.

  “Thanks, Dad.” Standing, I head out to the family room. Mom and Martin are talking.

  “Here she is,” he says as he approaches me and gives me a hug. “You’re looking really good.

  “Thank you.”

  “Would you like coffee, Martin?” Mom asks.

  “Yeah, I would, thanks.”

  “Can I have one too please, Mom?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Martin and I sit over on the sofa, next to each other. “First, I have to say I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve been saying sorry every time I’d come to see you in rehab. You can stop apologizing now.”

  “I really can’t. The crap I put you through, I’m so ashamed.”

  “I know.” He smiles.

  Mom brings over a coffee for Martin and a mocha for me. I pick mine up and blow on it. “Why did you try to save me?” I ask.

  “I told you why, because of my brother.”

  “But you have to see so many drug addicts, you can’t save us all.”

  He frowns, and looks away from me. “I don’t know why, but I’ve always felt protective of you. There’s something that makes me want to wrap you in a blanket, and keep you warm at night. There’s just something there. When you left your parents’ home, after you’d detoxed, I tried to find you, so I could bring you back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re different. And you’re special. You weren’t meant for a life of drugs, you were meant for something more.”

  I chuckle, then take another sip of my mocha. “Funny, because Anna in the hospital said something similar. And so did Mrs. Drew.”

  “Mrs. Drew?” he asks.

  “Neighbor, down the street.” I point toward her direction. “I said some horrible things to her, and I wanted to apologize for them. So, I went there yesterday, looked her in the eyes and told her I was sorry. Kristen’s next. She’s coming over later.” Mom is in the background, in the kitchen. She’s hanging around, in case I need her.

  “It takes a lot of courage to admit when you’ve done something wrong. You have to take it easy, be kind to yourself.” I laugh, though it’s more like a snort. Yeah, be kind to myself after everything I’ve done to everyone. “Don’t do that.” He points to my head, knowing what I’m thinking.

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  He tilts his head to the side, as if he can read my thoughts. “You’re beating yourself up for every bad word, every wrong action, everything you’ve done.” I hug my coffee cup closer, trying to set a barrier between us. But I’m a fool to think he can’t see through it. Martin’s always been able to see through every one of my actions. Every one.

  “I’m… ” A huge lump rests in the pit of my throat. I want to say more, but I’m unsure what to say.

  “You’ve been through something life-altering, Hannah. You don’t come out the other side of severe drug abuse without it changing you.” I nod my head and look down at the cushion on the sofa. “And when you look at the big picture, it’s not just the drugs you’ve survived.” I nod again, too ashamed of myself to say anything. “Abuse in any form is difficult. Confronting it, and dealing with it is freeing, and courageous. Don’t feel shame, Hannah. Feel powerful because you’ve made the decision to actually do something about it.”

  “I shouldn’t have people tell me they’re proud of me for coming clean. I shouldn’t have gone down that road to begin with.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. But, you did. And then you made another choice, to get clean.”

  I chuckle ruefully. “I didn’t make the decision, it was thrust on me. I was raped, left to overdose, and found beaten in a dirty, dark alleyway.”

  “You had a choice. You always have a choice. Because instead of being here with your parents, and with me, you could be out there, being a prostitute and smoking crystal meth. This is your choice. Am I proud of you?” I look at him and wait for his answer. “You better believe it. Not because of what you did, but because of what you’re choosing to do right now.”

  My gaze falls to my now empty mug. “Thank you,” I whisper. I feel better knowing Martin’s here. I feel safer. I know I can be strong with him. Not because he builds my confidence up, but because he honestly cares about me. “One day, when I’m more okay here.” I point to my head. “I’d like to take you out on a date.”

  His brows shoot up, and I can see him trying to hold in the smile. There’s joy in his eyes, and his cheeks are turning pink.

  “I’d like that,” he finally says.

  I lean in and give him a hug. I like Martin. He’s proven to me that no matter what I go through, he’s here for me and for my family.

  I pace inside my room. Kristen is due to come over, and although I can’t wait, I’m also nervous. She visited me once while I was in rehab, and we talked about everything. She said she forgave me, but I’m still not sure where we are on the friends scale. Are we passing acquaintances, or are we ‘hey let’s go to the movies’ friends? After today, I’ll see, I guess.

  I go out to the family room and look through the front window to see if she’s here.

  She’s not.

  God, what if she’s changed her mind and she doesn’t want to come anymore? My stomach churns with fear and worry. I don’t know what I’d do if the roles were reversed. I’d like to think I’d give her another chance, but I don’t know.

  I hear a car, and look out the window again. It’s not her.

  My shoulders drop and sadness forms in the pit of my soul.

  I’ve been horrible. Maybe I don’t deserve a second chance. I don’t know. Maybe I do. But, why do I? I haven’t been a great friend to her. I kept her in the dark about everything. Asked her to lie for me, and treated her horribly.

  I go to the kitchen to try to occupy my mind. I need to move my thoughts away from the (very real) possibility she won’t come. I open the dishwasher, and begin to offload all the dishes. I’m humming around the kitchen, trying to keep myself busy. As the moments tick by, I get a twisting pain in my gut, just knowing she’s not going to come. A bitter feeling of defeat keeps churning in my head. She’s not coming; I know it.

  My eyes begin to well with tears, and I desperately try to think of something else. But the yearning, the need for the pipe is right here, about to break through. I want it, only a taste to make me feel better.

  “Mom!” I call. My hands shake and I’ve gone into full flight mode. I need to get out of here, go and find a pipe. “MOM!” She’s going to help me through; I know she will. I brace myself on the kitchen counter, close my eyes and repeat in my head: Drugs are not the answer, they’re the cause. Drugs are not the answer, they’re the cause.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Dad’s deep voice booms from across the family room.

  “I need you,” I say and run to him. I throw myself in his arms, and hold him tightly.

  “It’s okay.” He gently pets my hair, holding me.

  My breathing is crazy, the craving and need for the pipe slowly retreats. I knew this would happen. It was always bound to happen. Challenges will send me into a spin, but
it’s how I handle them that distinguishes the person I am from the person I was.

  Suddenly, as I regain my control, there’s a knock at the front door.

  I pull back from Dad. “You okay?” he asks, knowing I was at the start of a meltdown. I nod. “Go.” He looks to the door.

  My hands sweat as I slowly walk toward it. It takes me a few seconds to get the confidence to actually open the door. My hand rests on the handle, reluctant. But I need to know if we are okay, or are we strangers now?

  I open the door.

  Kristen stands, looking as beautiful as always. Her thick blonde hair cascades down over her shoulders. Her big, blue eyes are glued to me. Staring? Judging? Her body is tense, too.

  I deserve her wrath. I deserve it all.

  I don’t speak. Neither does she.

  I don’t know what to do.

  A tear falls from her eye, and she lifts her hand to wipe it away. I feel something wet on my cheeks, and realize I’m crying too.

  This is raw, for both of us.

  She can turn and walk out of my life, or she can come in and be part of it. I won’t blame her for leaving. I won’t allow myself to hate her if she does. She’s never been anything but kind to me.

  We stare at each other. We’re both crying.

  She drops her shoulders, and throws herself into my arms.

  We both sob uncontrollably.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say through thick, fast tears.

  She kisses my cheek, and holds me like I’m her own life raft.

  “I’m so happy you’re back,” she whispers.

  So am I.

  Epilogue

  A tear falls from my eyes as I stare at the paper on the podium. I can’t bring myself to look up at the hundred-plus pairs of eyes, all of whom are sitting quietly, watching, and listening to me.

  Today is especially emotional, because it marks my five years of sobriety.

  My parents sitting here, supporting me. They don’t often travel with me, but I knew today was going to be difficult, and I knew I was going to need them and their support. Martin travels with me and comes to all my events. He’s become the protective partner, but he’s always been that way when it comes to me.