Addison

by Jennifer Foor

  “You don’t need to rake anything when Daddy is already loaded.” Her snicker wasn’t uncommon. Everyone knew who my family was. When you come from the Mitchell clan, everyone in Kentucky knows your business.

  Sure, I was lucky. I had a family to not only support me while I seek out a new career and future, but they loved harder than any family I’d ever known. I needed that kind of attachment; commitment even.

  My father may have made a name for our family, but I liked doing things on my own. Part of the reason I got into trouble was because I felt smothered. I wanted to go out and see the world beyond the fence of the ranch, in a matter of speaking.

  Sammy liked to tease me, because for some reason it made me smile. She wasn’t from Kentucky, so often she teased me about my strong accent, or the fact that my father was a full-fledged cowboy. Imagining him being sexy gave me the heebie-jeebies. I mean, what girl wants to look at her dad that way? Eww.

  “You know I don’t like to gloat, Sammy.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just like giving you a hard time.”

  I shook my head. “I’m getting to work. Maybe you should do the same instead of fantasizing about men’s hands and such.”

  She laughed again. “Go turn some lives around, Mrs. Kentucky. I’m going to have to get you a crown.”

  I pointed my latte toward her as I spoke. “Keep it up and these here drinks will stop magically appearing.” I winked as I walked away, feeling like I got the last slap at the bantering between us. It made me happy to be well liked, enough to be able to joke around on a daily basis. I felt like I didn’t have to hide behind my problems.

  That being said, this part of my life was often difficult. Seeing people struggling, going through withdrawals, feeling as if they were on death’s door, well it sucks. As many times as I could say that things would get better, they’d never believe it. I’d been at the bottom. I knew what it was like to puke until you felt you were hollow inside. My eyes had sunken so far into my skull at one point that I looked like a walking skeleton. I pretended my family didn’t matter to me, and that life was a joke. I’d felt their pain firsthand. I knew the battle they’d have to conquer.

  My first patient had been to this location several times before. She was a mother of two children, her husband locked in jail for petty theft. She was a victim of the system, collecting government checks to feed her habit instead of her family. Social services usually stepped in, and the last time they’d taken the kids away. I wondered if she’d had enough and was hoping to end her life.

  When I stepped inside I found her watching reality television. She was playing with her hands, unable to still them for even a second’s time. “Rachel, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you in here again. I thought you promised last time you were done with the life?”

  “Well it wasn’t done with me. It figures they’d send you in here. Don’t you think it’s time to give up trying to help people. We don’t want your help.” It was common for addicts to treat me disrespectfully. I’d gotten used to it.

  “This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I know you miss your kids.”

  “Fuck off. You don’t know anything about me.”

  I looked down at my paper, paying close attention to her history. “According to this document you were clean for a while. What happened?”

  “Life, obviously. It doesn’t take a damn genius. Are we done here? I don’t feel like being besties.”

  She was so rude. It had always been this way with her. “I’m here when you’re ready to admit you have a problem, Rachel. The first step into getting those kids back is being clean. You’re here. Now is your chance to make that change. Be the mom they need. I’m sure they miss you.”

  She chucked a styrofoam cup of water at me. It burst on the floor beneath my feet. I picked up the remnants and tossed them in the trash. “I’ll get someone to clean up the mess. I’m leaving my card here. You may think I’m your enemy, but you know in your heart I’m not. When you’re ready to live your life again, you call me. I’ll be there for you, no matter what day, or the time. I’ll be the rock you need, if you’ll let me.”

  “People like you are all the same. Get off your pedestal and leave me the hell alone.”

  “Have a good day, Rachel. I do hope it gets better.”

  Sammy was watching as I exited the room. She shook her head and laughed to herself, obviously hearing from that far away how she’d spoken to me. “Another lost cause?”

  “I don’t get it. She’s got so many reasons to want to get better.”

  “Maybe she’s too far gone.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  I kept moving, walking into the next person’s room. Simon had been here twice before. He used street drugs for the longest time, then finally started shooting heroin into his arm. He’d been clean for months, so this newest stint had me in shock. “Hey there, stranger,” I offered as a greeting.

  “Addy. Before you say anything, it was an accident. I had a real bad day at work. They fired me. They said I transferred the wrong file to a potential client. I only did what my manager told me. Now I’m out a job.”

  “So what happened?” I leaned on the edge of his bed while he explained. Simon wasn’t a threat to me. He was kind and gentle. He was the type of guy that women wouldn’t date because he was too nice. Unfortunately that left him with low self esteem. He never felt good enough. Being fired most likely triggered this latest bout.

  “I drove around for a while trying to clear my head. While I stopped to get something to eat, I saw an old buddy of mine I used to get high with. He invited me over, and at first I did good. I declined his offers, but then I envied how happy he was. I wanted to forget about my problems, even if it was only for a short time.”

  “You know you can’t do that. We’re addicts. We always will be.”

  He reached over and touched my arm. I let him, because he needed this kind of connection to feel supported. “I’m sorry, Addy. I know you must think I’m an idiot.”

  “I think you’re human, Simon.”

  “I came right to the hospital when I started going through withdrawal symptoms. I knew if I waited it out on my own I’d use again.”

  “You did good. I’m proud of you for being so strong.”

  “I’ll be at the first meeting when I’m released. I promise. If I’m not you can stop by my house and drag my butt there.”

  I squeezed his hand. “One day you’re going to sweep someone off their feet. I admire your heart.”

  “The offer is still open to take that position,” he reminded me.

  “Yeah, you know the rules. No dating other addicts.”

  “I still love you,” he teased.

  “Yeah,” I patted his leg as I stood up. “Ditto. I’ll see you next week, and if you don’t show up, count on me beating down that door.”

  “I look forward to it. See you then.”

  When I walked out of his room I felt better. Simon would recover. I’d make sure of it, even if I had to personally place myself into his life to remind him he could beat this.

  The next three patients were still having major withdrawals. When that occurs there’s little you can talk to them about. They want to feel better, and listening to someone telling them things is out of the question. I went in and introduced myself, leaving a card with the meeting schedule attached. I hoped I’d see them there so we could start working on staying clean, but one never knew who would follow through. I just had to pray I got to someone.

  My final patient was the newest admission. He was the one Sammy had told me about. Since he’d been brought in by my favorite cop friend, Joe, there was no telling what kind of person he was. This guy could be a hardcore criminal. He could cuss me out and threaten my life for looking at him.

  I entered the room with caution, hoping to God I’d be safe. When I got inside he wasn’t in his bed. I heard hacking coming from the bathroom and cracked open the door. On the floor, curled up against the toilet, the guy was thr
owing up. He heard me behind him, but didn’t turn around. Through his hospital gown I could see he had tattoos on his back, but couldn’t really make out what they said or were. “Can you get me a paper towel?” He asked in a struggled raspy voice.

  I headed over to the sink and wet some, then handed them over. That’s when our eyes met; eyes I’d seen before. It was the guy from the meeting, the one who never came back, and he most certainly saw me standing over him. “It’s you.”

  Chapter 3

  Addison

  “It’s me, addiction counselor in training,” I said in a giddy tone. “I’m Addison, but everyone just calls me Addy.”

  “Addison is a pretty name,” he replied while washing off his face.

  I backed away when he stood up and went to brush his teeth.

  “Thanks. I’ll just wait out in the room for you to get cleaned up.”

  “Whatever you need to do,” he sarcastically responded before putting the hospital toothbrush in his mouth.

  When I left the bathroom, I stood there with my hand on my heart. It was beating so fast, and I couldn’t understand why. This guy was an addict, yet all I kept thinking about was the way he’d looked at me at the meeting. He was so irresistibly handsome, definitely not in the hard-core criminal kind of way.

  Cole was his name. I glanced down at the paperwork again.

  Cole Chase. That last name sounded familiar, but I’d met so many people I knew I wouldn’t be able to place it.

  He stumbled out of the room with no regard for being in a short hospital gown and a pair of tight boxer briefs. As he passed I tried my best not to look too much, inevitably my curiosity won out. The moment he sat back down on the medical bed I focused back on why I was there. “My chart says you were brought in last night by the police. Is that correct?”

  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.”

  “He’s in the best of hands. We’re keeping an eye on him. The doctor said she’ll give him some anti-nausea meds if it keeps up. We’ll have to give him an IV soon to get fluids in him.”

  “Do me a favor. Make sure he has my number tonight before you leave. I don’t know if he’ll want to reach out to anyone. If he does, he’s going to need someone to reassure him this can be done.”

  “Look at you, always around to save the day. That’s why Joe wants to get in your pants so bad. You’re like a real life angel.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Give me a break.”

  “It’s true. I admire you, chick. You’re a tough cookie. I don’t know how you don’t bring this home with you at night. I hate it. I see so many come and go, half don’t make it. They leave behind families, children even. It’s disgusting.”

  “We all have our demons, Sammy. I’m just trying to make up for the bad I’ve done. One day at a time, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  When I
headed out, I wanted to check in on Cole again, but knew not to push it. He needed to rest, and my bugging him for answers wasn’t going to help. Cole was different from the other addicts. He still knew what he was doing, and the pain it inflicted on others. He still cared. There was hope. I just needed to help him see it.

  That next morning I was supposed to have class. I downloaded my work onto my laptop, but couldn’t focus to save my life. My mind had been on Cole since I’d left the hospital. Since I wasn’t due back there for another six days I had no reason to show up unannounced, and I’d never come back for one single patient. One thing about my job that I took seriously was being professional. I’d never had favorites, but for some reason I couldn’t help from wanting to help him, at least if it was just for guidance.

  Instead of heading straight there I decided to take a different approach.

  Joe Carter was a local state trooper. He’d made it obvious last year that he wanted to date me. Every time I turned him down he’d come up with another reason why we should go out. He was easy on the eyes, clean cut, pretty fit, and super sweet; the opposite from what I’d always been attracted to.

  Joe’s eyes lit up when I pulled into the place he always sat to do traffic stops – another thing I hated about him. He was predictable.

  I waved a coffee and a bag with a pastry in his direction. He unlocked his passenger door and started to open it for me. “Are you stalking me now?”

  “Shut up. I needed to talk to you about something. Since you’re the most predictable cop I’ve ever known I figured I’d catch you here.”

  “Did you come here to finally invite me to meet your daddy?”

  Of course he’d assume that. What was with men thinking they would get what they wanted if they kept pushing? “No. Actually, it’s not.” I offered him the coffee and bag with the pastry. “Here. I got you these.”