Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,27
how I feel about it yet. Can I wait and talk about it when—”
“Heck no, Luke Slywalker. Is it a new guy? Tell me what that was about already.”
“Okay, but don’t hit the ceiling. That was Tug.”
Her eyes widened. “Your overdose Tug?”
I activated my library super-shushing powers and dragged her across the room into the stacks where we could hiss at each other in private.
“Yes. You have a problem with that? He asked me to go to his family group therapy session.”
She blinked. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that supposed to be for, I don’t know, family?”
“He doesn’t have any.”
Her face fell. “Oh, Luke. Don’t.”
“Don’t what? This is a chance for Tug to hear from people whose lives he impacted. It’s important for him.”
“Jesus. It’s always about the addict, isn’t it?” She frowned. “The whole world has to revolve around them.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I believe I know a little more about this situation than you do.”
She stepped back as though I’d slapped her. “Oh, right. Because you’ve been ‘researching.’” She had the nerve to use air quotes. “My sister got addicted to OxyContin after a cheerleading injury in high school. Don’t get me started on what that did to our family. I’ve been there, done that, and got the t-shirt, thank you very much.”
“Okay, well. I’ve been going to a support group.” I felt like I had to defend my decision, which infuriated me. “In the last eight years I’ve had to use Narcan three times. Did you know that?”
“Three?” She narrowed her eyes. “Three?”
I shrugged. “My luck, I guess. Once when I was an RA, once at Comic Con, then Tug, here. It’s a sign, isn’t it? Don’t you suppose the universe is trying to tell me something?”
“I have no idea.”
“They all survived the overdoses. Except for Tug, I don’t know if my actions changed anything.” I read random book titles as I gathered my thoughts—Raised Bed Gardening, Urban Farming, Grow Your Food. “I want to make a difference. I want things to change. Can you understand that?”
“Oh, honey. Addicts don’t change.” She patted my shoulder. “That’s codependence talking.”
“No, it isn’t,” I argued. “It’s compassion. I’m trying to learn how to support someone without allowing them to crush my boundaries. Frankly, I think that’s a skill we should all have.”
“Addicts are heat-seeking boundary killers. That’s their entire goal. That’s how they survive.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” I warmed to the subject because lately, I’d found it fascinating. “It’s amazing how adept a person has to be to maintain a habit. Don’t you ever wonder about that? Don’t you ever wonder whether all that effort could be channeled into something more productive? What would happen if we could make that the priority rather than—”
“What are you talking about?” She frowned at me. “Who’s we?”
“Um… The medical community? Society? I don’t know. People in a position to do something for someone like Tug.”
“Oh, honey. You are such a noob. Don’t get your hopes up, okay? I’d hate to see you get disappointed after you pour all your effort into saving someone who doesn’t necessarily want to be saved.”
“I just wish I could help is all.”
“And what if you can’t? What if your friend walks away from treatment and picks up again?”
“I’ll deal. I’ll try to help someone else.”
“You’re really all in, aren’t you?” She bit her lip. “God, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“This family group I’m attending will be under the supervision of specialists. They won’t let me fuck things up.”
“Why are you the one worried you’ll fuck things up? You’re not the guy who used heroin. I wish you’d—”
“No, no, no. Addiction is a cultural crisis. It’s going to take leveraging the power of entire communities to make things better.”
“Wow.” She stared at me like she’d never seen me before. “You really drank that Kool-Aid, didn’t you?”
My heart gave a sudden lurch. “What?”
“I wish you could hear yourself objectively.” Her words carried a lot of emotion I wasn’t prepared for. “People choose to use drugs. Even if addiction is a so-called disease for some people, they’re the ones who chose to tempt fate by trying drugs in the first place.”
“That’s facile. They—”
“Once they’re addicts, they lie, they cheat, they swindle, they steal. They’re not victims. Should the entire world make it easier for them to do drugs? Heroin is illegal for a reason. People who use don’t have an illness. They’re committing a crime.”