Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,11
OD throws users into withdrawal hard and fast.”
“I’ve heard,” he admitted grimly. “It makes you dope sick, but you can’t get high. Someone I know OD’d an hour later trying.”
“Gayle told me to warn you about that.”
“What’s their deal? The dynamic duo.” He removed the washcloth I’d given him, turned it, and swiped it over his face and neck. “Why’d they come all this way for me?”
“Echo and I are tight. We grew up together. I guess Gayle wasn’t on call at the hospital. I can’t tell you how lucky you are they came. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have anything but over-the-counter meds for you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “The nausea comes in waves.”
“Give the medicine time. Put in the earbuds. What do you like to listen to? Music? Or—I’ve got a ton of audiobooks.”
“Like what?” Tug’s legs had gotten restless again. “Oh, ow. Goddamn it.”
“I’ve got a lot of fantasy. Lord of the Rings, Interview with a Vampire, that kind of thing.” I glanced up. Nothing. “I’ve got mystery. You like Sherlock Holmes?”
“How the fuck would I know.” He gritted his teeth. “Just pick something.”
I picked The Hound of the Baskervilles because it satisfied my literary aesthetic. Tug was metaphorically in the Grimpen Mire. Maybe this would help him navigate what he was feeling.
He closed his eyes and seemed to listen, likely more to the cadence of the words, rather than the story itself. The book was well narrated. I’d listened to it more than once.
“Story time isn’t going to help.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“Probably not,” I agreed.
He shifted again and had to dig through the bedding for my ear buds, making me wish I’d brought some with wires. Maybe we could find a way to keep them in.
“Want me to wrap some gauze around your head so you don’t lose the ear buds?”
“I’ll hold them.” Tug’s hands cramped after only a few minutes and the muscles in his arms and shoulders got sore. He tried shaking them out. Didn’t look like it worked.
“Okay, this is stupid.” I overrode his veto and wound a light gauze strip around his head over the earphones. “A strip of cloth, and you can move all you want. There. They’ll stay put.”
“Great.” He turned away and closed his eyes. “I look like Frankenstein.”
“Technically, you look like the monster. I could draw stitches on your forehead with a pen for verisimilitude. Let me know when you get to the part about the Grimpen Mire.”
“You’re still so fucking weird.”
“I know. It’s a gift.”
I tried to catch a catnap, but watching other people suffer isn’t something I’m good at sleeping through apparently. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands and braced for the next thing.
It was key to remember the definition of addiction. Addicts used in spite of negative physical or emotional outcomes. Given the prevalence of abstinence-only addiction education, the hold twelve-step programs have on the industry, and big business creating churn and burn rehabilitation centers with little oversight, it was no wonder people relapsed.
Did I believe Tug could beat the odds? I did. I believed it with all my heart. Did I believe he would beat them?
Honestly? I couldn’t let that matter to me.
At that point it wasn’t about whether he wanted sobriety, or harm reduction, or to disappear into the urban train wreck and use again. It was about the things I expected of myself.
I’d support his decisions. Try not to judge him. Help him out for these few days as best I could given my ignorance.
The choice to get sober would always be his alone. I wished I didn’t care one way or the other, but the more I watched him suffer, the more I did care. I wanted him to beat this thing. I just didn’t know if he would.
Chapter Six
Restless leg syndrome sucks. I’ve experienced it but never as badly as Tug. Movement was the only cure, so we walked around the grounds of the motel when he lost patience with lying down and the room closed in on us.
He was barely able to tolerate anything.
“It hurts,” he whined. “Everything hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” A cat darted out from behind the dumpsters behind the motel and into our path with a second on its tail. Tug jumped out of his skin.
“Jesus.” He grabbed his heart. Fierce hissing and screeches rose into the air. He tried to run after the cats. “They’re hurting each other.”
“If they are, you shouldn’t get close. Stay put.” I looked around and found a bottle to