Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,29
that shit? We all know we piss test at Roberta’s whim, and that woman is fucking psychic.
What makes some people think they can get away with anything? I was like that before, but it wasn’t about getting away with stuff. I had no fucks left to give for the consequences. My next high was gonna take me someplace else.
Dr. Franklin gave me the option of staying here for another sixty days, and I’ve decided to go through with it. Honestly, it was a no-brainer. I’m not ready to go back out there. I have no plans, no job, no future. I’m so fucking depressed some days I can’t even get out of bed except to do chores and go to meetings and finish the homework they make me do. Meds help, but the roller coaster is real.
Dr. Franklin said my brain chemistry has changed, and it could take up to a year before I feel halfway normal. My brain keeps trying to tell me I’ll never feel good again. Dr. Franklin says it’s normal for a brain to fight back when it’s deprived of its favorite thing. Fuck normal. I don’t want to be normal. I want to feel good. At least I don’t have to hide from Brian anymore. Mostly, I sleep whenever I’m not doing something I have to do.
Right now, if someone offered me dope, I’d probably use. Nothing is like H when it hits your bloodstream. The way it travels through your body and hits your brainstem and just… makes everything go away—and not to a farm where I have to take antidepressants to sleep and balance my moods. Not to a place where I have to worry about privileged assfucks like Brian.
I’m not supposed to imagine how H would make me feel anymore. I’m supposed to remember how sick it made me. How weak.
I’m supposed to remember the revolting things I did to get it.
I’m supposed to notice how okay things are without it, write down the things I like, and count my “blessings.”
The thing is, I’ll never feel “okay” again.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Tug
Thursday during the day I tried to keep busy. Suzanne and I came to terms with the fact we had to disagree. We ate lunch together, but the gulf between us seemed to get bigger as the day wore on. I could see she was holding her tongue, and nobody liked that.
The tipping point came when a slightly unkempt woman entered the library with two little kids. All three were painfully thin. I’d seen them before. They only came when it was blazing hot outside. They sat in the children’s section and read picture books until the little ones, who were about two and four, nodded off to sleep.
As kids went, hers were well behaved. They respected her, and they took care with the books. I liked knowing they could come and feel safe and get cool.
But I could see Suzanne eyeing the little family with speculation from the information desk. I wished I knew what she was thinking, but I got busy at the front desk for a while.
Later, she walked past me on her way to the break room.
“Hey.” I nodded at her.
“Hey.” She stepped behind the counter with me. “Will this heat ever let up? The asphalt squished under my feet this afternoon.”
I shrugged, because global warming. “Not for months, probably.”
We could see the kids’ section from where we stood, and her gaze landed on the woman with the two toddlers sleeping in her lap.
“You think she’s one of yours?” she asked.
“One of my what?”
“Your addicts.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve seen her around town before. I think they live in a Camry station wagon. Someone should call CPS.”
“No, why? Maybe they’re on a road trip. You don’t know anything about her situation.”
“I know kids shouldn’t live in cars when it’s a hundred eight degrees outside.”
“Okay, but they might be escaping from something worse. What if she’s running from an abuser? The kids could end up back with that person or in foster care.”
“She should ask for help and not just go on a permanent campout with two small children.”
I stared. She stared back.
Even when I looked really hard, I didn’t find the person I thought I knew in Suzanne anymore.
“If she is living rough, don’t you think she probably tried everything she knew how to do before taking such drastic action?”
“So you’re okay with kids living like that?” Before I could answer, she