Page 66 of Dark Room Junkie

“Peut-être.”

Or the drugs.However, I hadn’t consumed anything since the day before yesterday when I left home. I didn’t need it. I wasn’t addicted. But now, of all times, everything was coming back.Everything!Noé didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. Corinne could see that I had relapsed.

And then she drops a bombshell equivalent to a nuclear bomb.

Earlier this week, I had been looking forward to this job opportunity in Geneva. The job had the potential to open a lot of doors for me—if I did it right. But right now, I felt like a complete failure, and Geneva was turning into my own horror trip. I had convinced myself for a long time that my place as a photographer in the advertising industry was becoming more secure, but I was an emotional wreck by now.

“Do you need anything?” Pierre asked, still waiting for me by the doorway.

I knew what would help me, but I wasn’t so desperate that I would call Philippe and ask for a contact here in Geneva. My body rebelling was surely just due to the sleepless nights. I hardly slept last week. But much worse were these damn memories. They made it almost impossible for me to concentrate. The case was clear. I urgently needed something to help me relax—something real.

“I need to make a quick phone call. I’ll be right back with you,” I told Pierre.

Pierre nodded and disappeared back inside. I called Mrs. Gerber, my therapist.

“Alex. Hello, nice of you to call.”

“That sounds like you were expecting my call,” I said in a monotone voice.

“What can I do for you?”

“I need a prescription ... for Valium or something.”

“What happened?”

“I ... oh, come on! You know. My mother dropped the bombshell. And ... I ...”

“How are you feeling?”

I took a deep breath, slowly in and hesitantly out again. “Overwhelmed?” I asked as if I wasn’t quite sure.

“Where are you?”

I felt a surge of anger again. “At work! I haven’t been able to concentrate for two days! And I can’t sleep either. And ... if my heart doesn’t stop racing soon, I probably won’t make it until tonight.”

“You’re welcome to come in today if you want. I have a free appointment. How about ...”

“No, I ... I’m in Geneva. I just need something to calm me down.”

There was silence at the other end of the line. I straightened up, my hand nervously running through my hair, as my gaze wandered aimlessly over the parking lot. It was morning, and I had plenty to do.

“All right, I can write you a prescription. But let’s make an appointment for next week.”

“I can’t make it then,” I lied. I didn’t feel like having a conversation with her. After all, everything was going well. I just needed something to give my brain a break.

“When would it suit you?”

“I’m standing outside in a parking lot,” I explained through gritted teeth. “My calendar is in the hotel.”

“Okay,” she said. “But I want you to call me so we can arrange a time.”

Yeah, yeah, I thought, but muttered, “Okay,” to make her happy.

“Send me the address of the pharmacy where I should send the prescription, and you can pick it up there in an hour at the latest.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved.

Knowing that I had the prospect of medication after the job made it easier for me to get through the day. The team agreed to work through lunch, so we could finish at three o’clock. I loaded my equipment into the car, said goodbye to everyone, and drove straight to the pharmacy to get the Valium.

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