“Very impressive, sir. Now let’s go over some details about the drug regimen, because I don’t want to assume that the hospital gave you all the right information.”
She explained the bi-weekly drug tests and the dosing. “After a couple of months we’ll begin to taper your dose down so that someday you won’t need it anymore. In the meantime, it’s a pretty special drug. It dampens cravings in the majority of people who take it. And those who fall off the wagon and try to use often find that they can no longer get high.”
I’d heard all this before, but I nodded politely.
“Did you eat breakfast and lunch today?”
“Sure.”
She grinned at me from across the table. “Can you be more specific?”
“Oh, uh, I had bread and jam for breakfast.” Ruthie Shipley had sent me home from dinner last night with what she called “leftovers” but that looked suspiciously like a big shopping bag full of food. Her homemade bread was divine. “And egg salad for lunch.” I’d put her plastic containers out on my top step to keep them cool. Luckily, no raccoons had found my Shipley stash.
“Good. If you eat regularly—and don’t skip meals—it’s easier for the Suboxone to work properly. So keep it up. There are a lot of people passing through this office who will tell you that the drug is the only thing that helped them pull their lives back together.”
“That’s cool,” I said. But no drug in the world could undo all the shitty things I’d done. “It’s made my cravings all but disappear. I can only feel them now when I’m stressed out.”
“Tell me about that. What’s stressing you out these past couple of weeks?”
“Well, everything. My broken arm means I can’t do my job. My father might sell our shop. And…” How truthful did I want to be? “I broke up with my girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.
“It’s for the best.”
She seemed to consider that idea. “Well, when you’re trying to stay clean, it’s important to keep away from the toxic relationships in your life. Does your girlfriend use drugs?”
I laughed out loud. “God, no.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Then does she blame you for using? Guilt isn’t helpful, either, if you’re trying to forgive yourself and move on.”
“Uh, no.” Sophie was perfect. It was me who was the problem. “We’re just not very compatible.”
Delilah studied me again, her smile calm. “Breakups are always hard. But they’re especially rough on someone who’s trying to get a handle on his addiction. Do you feel sad?”
“Of course,” I admitted.
“Depressed?”
“I don’t know. It hasn’t been anything I can’t handle, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She pushed a business card toward me on the desk. “Here’s our main number, and also our emergency line. If you think you might do something you’d regret, I’d like you to call us first. Can you do that?”
“Sure,” I said slowly. But as I pulled the card across the wooden tabletop, something important occurred to me.
I’d removed myself from Sophie’s life because I was convinced that I was always one bad day away from falling off the wagon. That I couldn’t be trusted. This week had sucked, and I missed her like crazy, but I hadn’t been truly tempted to use. Not even once.
And that’s the thing—losing Sophie was pretty much the worst thing that could happen to me. Yet I wasn’t cruising the streets of Colebury for a hit right now. I was handling my bitterness the same way other people did. By being a grumpy asshole, basically.
“Be kind to yourself, okay?” my counselor said. “Get some exercise and do something that makes you feel good, as long as it doesn’t involve chemicals.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“I mean, for heartbreak, binge-watching Netflix is a good place to start.”
I didn’t have Netflix or any way to watch it. But I wasn’t looking for pity, so I kept that to myself.
After Delilah asked me a few more questions and made sure I knew about every NA meeting in a twenty-mile radius, it was time to pee in a cup.
She led me to the sample room. There was no sink, and the toilet water was dyed blue, just in case someone was tempted to dilute his sample. I did my thing and turned in the evidence. It’s weird to hand a cup of your warm pee to a woman. What’s one more slightly humiliating moment in the life of an addict?
Afterward Delilah dispensed two weeks’ worth of Suboxone strips with a smile. “You’re doing great, Jude. Keep up the good work.”
“Thanks.” God, it was embarrassing how much I enjoyed hearing that praise. “See you next time,” I said.
When I left the clinic it was after five PM. I drove slowly through Montpelier just to amuse myself, and the movie theater came into view. The marquee promised a showing of the latest Marvel superhero movie.
I found myself pulling the Avenger into a parking spot and checking my wallet. Seventeen bucks, plus a credit card.