From Smoke To Flames— Amazon: A West Brothers Novel

by A. M. Hargrove

  “I’d imagine so.”

  “And how are you going to afford it?”

  “I’ll find a way, Greg.”

  He lifted one brow. “We’ll see. You can pick her up at five in two weeks.” He turned and left me standing there. Fucker.

  I got into my piece of crap car and wanted to ram into his fancy BMW as I backed out of the driveway. Urrrgh! I needed to calm down as I was on my way into work and had three new patients to check in, one of which I already hated with a passion.

  “Deep breath, Rose, deep breath.” I pulled air in through my mouth, and released it through my nose, repeating this cycle as I drove. It eventually calmed me, but damn, he was a cruel bastard. The only nice thing he’d ever given me was Montana.

  Sweet Montana. Every time I saw her, she seemed to be less bright and cheerful. If I didn’t take action soon, I was afraid her brightness would disappear altogether.

  Sylvie was the first person I ran into at work.

  “Wow, you look terrible.” She plunked a flower wreath on top of my head. “This will bring you good vibes.” When she noticed my tears, she tugged me by the arm into her office. “Spill.”

  “It’s Greg. I’m worried he’s not treating Montana well.” And I explained why.

  “You know I’ve never asked, but how did he get full custody in the first place?”

  I sagged. “I don’t know. He concocted all these stories about how I was never there and was such a neglectful mother. I was going to school full time and did my best to be there, but you know how it is. He had all the money and stripped our accounts. My mom helped where she could, but she works and really doesn’t give a damn about her granddaughter or me. It was a nightmare of a time.”

  “What about your attorney?”

  “Let’s not go there. He was worthless.”

  “I may know someone who can help.”

  “Really?”

  “Maybe.” She stuck the end of her pen in her mouth and chewed on it. “He’s sort of tied up for the moment, but I could ask him later. In the meantime, are you going to be okay to work?”

  I thought about my new patients, one in particular, and sighed. “I have to. I can’t afford to miss work. I don’t have that many paid days off, with the ones I missed when Montana had her tonsils out.”

  “True. Okay, just let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Sylvie.”

  My first two check-ins went great. They were motivated, ready to begin, and both had issues that stemmed from their childhood. Then I got to him.

  Large blue-gray eyes with thick lashes homed in on me. I expected him to look a bit pasty like most of the other patients did, but no, this one had golden skin. He wore a short-sleeved T-shirt that hugged the muscles in his arms—muscles that rippled when he moved. He did not fit the usual image of a recovering addict. Not at all. His strong jaw was balanced by high cheekbones and a chiseled face. Why did he have to be so damned handsome? I remembered him in court as looking perfect in his expensive suit and tie. But here, he was every bit as good looking. His golden brown hair was messier, but it made him all the more appealing. When he took the vacant seat across from me, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  Watching him so at ease made my annoyance flare. His eyes darkened, which made him even sexier. Sexier? What the hell was I thinking? He was my patient whom I despised.

  When I questioned him, it took everything I had to rein in my anger. Weirdly enough, when he told me how he’d gotten addicted, I softened just a tiny bit, even though I didn’t want to. People like him had it all. Why couldn’t he have handled this in a better way? Heroin of all things? But at least I’d been wrong about him. I wasn’t sure if I was happy or angry about it. That didn’t make me the very best therapist either. I figured he was the usual guy who dabbled in drugs for fun and took it too far. I hadn’t expected it to have been a surgical procedure. I’d read his chart, sure, but when he spoke the words, it hit me harder than I’d expected. I wondered how it must’ve been for someone as successful as he was to find himself in this situation. At least I could find a smidgen of empathy for him. That was a start.

  As he rose to leave, I reminded him about a few things.

  “We do follow a rigid schedule here, although your first week is sort of a toe-dipping experience. We’d like to see what you respond to the best. Remember, meditation is a huge part of recovery at Flower Power,” I reminded him.

  The corner of his mouth curled.

  “What? You don’t believe in it?” I asked.

  “Not particularly.”

  “Have you ever seriously tried it?”

  “No,” he chuckled.

  “You’ll find it’s very calming and it is part of the daily requirement here. Next week you’ll start each day with a session. But I’ll be seeing you in meditation later today.” I looked at his tight jeans and added, “You’ll need something a little looser to wear, too.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Afraid so. Unless you want to sit on the floor in the Sukhasana and child’s pose in those.”

  “Seeing as I don’t know what either of those are, I’ll take your word for it.” He got up to leave and a picture caught his eye. “Is that your daughter?”

  “Yes,” I answered tersely.

  “She’s a cutie. I have several nieces and nephews. That’s something I want to work on. Spending more time with them.”

  I mumbled, “Wish I could do the same.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing. I’ll see you in meditation.”

  He stared at me for a second too long. “Have we met before?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  With a nod, he was gone. That went a lot better than I’d thought after I’d stopped being such a bitch to him. Only that was session one. I had another month’s worth to go. And if things between Greg and I worsened, I’d probably take it out on him. Maybe I should pass his case over to someone else now before I got in too deep. That would be the logical and ethical thing to do. But something was pulling me toward him. I wish I knew what it was, other than the fact that I’d like to strangle him.

  Chapter Six

  Pearson

  * * *

  That was strange. I’m not sure what she was trying to accomplish—alienation or friendliness. If it was the latter, she was doing a rather shitty job of it. I had the impression these Zen counselors were peace lovers, but she was trying to antagonize me the whole time—or at least that’s the impression I got. Maybe she was wearing the wrong kinds of flowers on her head and needed an entire pot of lavender up there.

  I was on the way to my next group session when I got hung up in some beads hanging in a doorway. My anger got the best of me and I ripped them off the molding.

  “My, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today.” Then she laughed. I checked out her name badge and it was Sylvie, my cousin. She was eight the last time I’d seen her, so I didn’t recognize her.

  “Sylvie.”

  “Pearson. You’ve changed,” she said with another laugh.

  “So have you. Sorry about these.” I handed her the beads.

  “Other than the obvious, why the sour mood?”

  “No reason, other than the obvious.”

  “How have your first couple of days been?”

  “Dandy.” My tone was laced with sarcasm.

  “I see. You sound like our usual patient. I swear it’ll get better.”

  “It has to because right now I could chew those beads.”

  She stopped walking and tapped my hand. I had to force myself not to jerk away from her. I was extremely twitchy today. “Think back to thirty days ago, Pearson. It is better, isn’t it?”

  She had a point. “Yeah, a lot better.”

  “Are you headed to group?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on. I’ll walk with you.”

  “I don’t think Rose is very fond of me.”

  Sylvie gave me a s
idelong glance. “What makes you say that?”

  “Let’s just say I thought this place was supposed to be peaceful and calming. She was more adversarial.”

  She chewed her lip before answering. “She had a difficult weekend. That may be why. I can talk to her if you’d like.”

  We got to the room where my group session was held. “No, it’s fine. If she’s having a rough time, I don’t want to make it any worse. Maybe things will straighten out.”

  She touched my arm this time. Sylvie must be a touchy-feely sort. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about, but it can wait. I’ll catch up with you later.” Then she left me standing there, wondering what it was. I needed to get moving or I’d be late, so I went into the room for my session, which I was prepared to be painful.

  By the end, it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Instead of listening and sharing our stories again, the counselor running the session had each of us share how we managed to get through our cravings. This was particularly helpful because some of us were new, some had been here a couple of weeks, and some were getting ready to leave.

  Surprisingly, meditation and yoga seemed to be the things that most people found the best.

  “What about working out, like running and using weights?” I asked.

  “That’s a great option too, but sometimes it can actually rev you up, as opposed to relaxing and calming you down. What might be good is a combination of the two. Maybe running and then meditation or yoga afterward,” one of the attendees suggested.

  Someone else jumped in and added, “Meditation takes practice so don’t give up on it too soon. If at first you don’t find it helpful, keep at it.”

  I was still a skeptic, but what did I have to lose? It’s not like I had anything else going on. Afterward, I went to lunch and I sat at a table with two other men, Rob and Joe. They started discussing their counselor, who happened to be Rose. My ears immediately perked up.

  “She was not in a good mood today,” Rob said.

  “You noticed that too?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah, especially when she practically bit my head off.” Rob didn’t look so happy about it.

  “Oh, she wasn’t that bad to me.”

  “Pearson, who’s your counselor?” Joe asked.

  “Rose.”

  Joe looked glum. “And this was your first session with her then?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t judge her by it. She’s usually great.”

  I thought about what Sylvie said, but kept it to myself. “Good to know. I did wonder about that.”

  Rob was sweating and looked a bit gray.

  “Hey, you okay, Rob?” Joe asked.

  “Not really. I’m not feeling well.”

  Joe immediately asked, “Did you eat breakfast?”

  “No.”

  He went up to the buffet and grabbed a coke. “Here. Drink. You know how the blood sugar thing works.”

  Joe looked at me and said, “Rob’s sensitive to low blood sugar.”

  That explained it. No wonder he looked awful. “Should I call someone?”

  “Nah, the coke should perk him up.”

  Rob drank it and several minutes later started feeling better.

  “There were so many days I went without food I still struggle with remembering to eat. Breakfast is the worst because in the mornings I don’t have an appetite.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t die,” Joe said.

  “Aren’t we all,” I added.

  They looked at me and Rob asked, “You too?”

  “Yep.” They weren’t in any of my group sessions so I figured I’d share my story. It was getting easier and easier, although I didn’t like that it was.

  Rob said, “I wish mine had been surgery. I was trying to make my past go away. Abusive father here.” He waved his hand in the air.

  “Man, I’m sorry.” For some odd reason, I wanted to hug the dude. He really did look like he could use one.

  Joe didn’t add anything and neither did we.

  I volunteered, “When I couldn’t get my hands on any more Lortabs, I ultimately went to heroin. Alcohol became a problem too.”

  “Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?” Rob asked.

  “It can, but hopefully we’re getting back on track,” I said.

  “Flower Power,” Joe said, raising his water glass.

  At first, I thought he was making fun at the place, but he wasn’t. He was dead serious. We clinked glasses.

  “Do you garden?” I asked.

  “I do now. It’s very therapeutic,” Rob said. Joe agreed. Maybe there was something to this flower shit and digging in the dirt after all. I said goodbye to my lunch buddies and went to change for meditation.

  The room was wide open, but everyone was trickling in and grabbing a yoga mat as they did. I followed suit and mimicked what they did, but I laid mine out in the back of the room. Then Rose walked in, dressed in yoga attire. Gone were the hippie clothes replaced by a combination of body-hugging yoga pants and a top that didn’t leave much to the imagination. But crazy as it sounds, she looked like an elf. Her leggings were red and white striped, and her top was bright green. I briefly wondered if she had pointed ears. Her black waves were now pulled into a messy twist on top of her head, which only accentuated her long, sexy neck … a neck that made me want to nuzzle it. What the hell was I thinking? She’d probably bite my head off if I so much as tried.

  To my horror, she beelined for me and tapped me on the shoulder. “Up front, so I can give you directions.” Then she kept moving. There was a platform she set her mat on and then she put on a headset. I had no choice but to follow her. She indicated where she wanted me. Great. Right in front so I’d be the center of attention.

  Music began playing and her voice came through the speaker system loud and clear.

  “I hope everyone is having a nice day, but let’s make it a lot better. Stretch out, long and lean on your mats. Pretend a band is pulling you from either end. Let your arms rest at your sides, palms facing up. Now take some deep, cleansing breaths, inhaling through the nose, and exhaling through the mouth.”

  Then she had us move into the three part breath, but I felt her hand on my lower abs as she instructed the class.

  “Feel your belly drop. Exhale completely and press here to help expel the air.” She applied pressure as she spoke.

  Once she had the class into this breathing thing, she told us to start extending our inhalations to a count of three and our exhalations to the same. Concentrating on this was relaxing. I’d forgotten how tense I’d been when I came in.

  “Now clear your mind of everything. The focus of this is relaxation. If that’s not possible, focus on one idea only.”

  We continued breathing and for some reason the only thought in my head was Rose. Her voice was extremely soothing.

  “If you’re having difficulty relaxing, start with your neck, pretend it’s fluid melting into your mat. Follow suit with the rest of your muscles.”

  Her voice, combined with the music, created a hypnotic atmosphere and I found myself drifting. We stayed like that for a while. I wasn’t sure how long because I lost track of time.

  When she spoke again, it nearly startled me. “I want you to change your focus now. Think of a goal you want to accomplish. Maybe it’s just staying sober. Maybe it’s tackling your cravings. Maybe it’s a relationship your addiction destroyed. Or it could be something entirely different. Whatever the case may be, concentrate on that issue and what you can do to resolve it. Remember, you have the power to do anything you set your mind to.”

  My goal was staying sober once I left this place, because it scared the shit out of me. I focused every thought on that. I knew I had family support and wondered if I should move into my parents after this. It sounded stupid, but I would need all the help I could get. Before I knew it, she was telling us to move into child’s pose, whatever that was.

  I unwillingly opened my eyes to see what everyone else was doing and fo
llowed instructions. This actually felt pretty damn good. When class was done, and I was rolling up the mat, Rose came up to me and asked, “What did you think?”

  “I liked it. You’re a great instructor,” I told her begrudgingly.

  Her cheeks flushed a bit and she smiled. “I’m glad you did. You should start your day with this.”

  “Yeah, I can see the benefits now.” As I looked at her, she seemed oddly familiar to me. “Are you sure we haven’t met.”

  Her smile immediately dissolved into a frown. “No, we haven’t.” And she walked away. Her abrupt change left me standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

  Chapter Seven

  Rose

  * * *

  Pearson walked in for his appointment looking like hell.

  “How was your night? You don’t look so good,” I said.

  “Glad to see your observational skills are keen,” he said coldly.

  I inhaled and counted to five. Why was he such an ass? “You can’t expect miracles,” I hit back sharply. “You’re only thirty plus days out.”

  “I am aware.” His eyes bore down on mine.

  “So tell me about it.”

  “You’re so damn smart, why don’t you tell me.”

  I pulled my hands into my lap and dug my nails into my palms. The man was downright infuriating. “I’m not a mind reader, Mr. West.”

  “Pearson.”

  “If you’re going to act like an a … like that, I think I’d prefer to call you Mr. West.”

  He pushed to his feet and paced. My office was small so there wasn’t much room for him to move back and forth.

  “Did you by any chance go to meditation today?” I asked,

  “No.”

  “May I ask why?”

  He stopped, turned, and practically yelled, “Because I overslept. I had a rough night.”

  That’s when I moved into therapy mode. I went to his side and said, “Please take a seat. We need to talk this through.”