Page 17 of Black
“All right, so I’ll add drug addict to your papers then.”
“No, I told you I’m not a drug addict,” I protested.
He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Yet, you just admitted to being addicted to oxycodone.”
“Yeah, but I’m not like shooting myself with needles or prostituting myself to get high or anything,” I pointed out.
“That’s good to know. I’ll note that down too,” he said and scribbled some more. “When and why did you take your first pill?”
“About two years ago. It was a present from a friend.”
“And what do you like about taking the pills?”
“The amazing feeling I get in my whole body.”
“Would you say it’s an escape from your problems or is it because you’re bored?”
“An escape.”
“What do you need to escape from?”
Ahh, come on… I felt compelled to press the red button and end the call. Ihatewhen people start probing around in my misery, but Gabriel was standing next to me and his presence was a reminder that I didn’t have much of a choice, so I huffed out air in annoyance. “Where do you want me to start?”
Bruce waited patiently.
“I’m homeless, I’m unemployed, I don’t have any money or family, and I’m fucking tired of swimming upstream, when everyone else seems to be floating downstream on an air mattress with a drink in their hand,” I said with an attitude.
“Okay. Now, if you could change one thing in your life what would it be?”
Loved…. I would like to be loved.It was the first thing that came to mind, but I couldn’t say that and there were enough other things to pick from, so I said. “I would like to have money.”
“Why?”
I arched a brow. “Seriously?”
“Yes, tell me why you would like to have money.”
“So I could have a place to stay, so I could eat every day, so I didn’t need to steal… do you need more reasons than that?”
“So if we accept you into our program and you leave here in two weeks, what would you like to have changed?”
I leaned my head back and glanced up in the ceiling for a few seconds before I looked at him. “I know you want me to say that I want to be free of my addiction to the pills, but unless you can help me figure out all the things that aren’t working in my life, then I honestly don’t want to give up on the pills. They are my only escape.”
“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “I appreciate your honesty, but tell me: How many days of your freedom is each pill worth to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“From what your uncle told me on the phone, you’re potentially facing a year in prison. How many pills are worth a year in your life?”
How do you answer that? I didn’t. I just scowled at him. He had made a point.
“Listen, Black, I can understand that you’re using the pills to numb your pain. It’s a classic situation. When we can’t figure out how to solve the problems in our lives, we do the next best thing. We numb ourselves. Some use porn, others food, power shopping, gambling, alcohol, or in your case drugs. But it’s a very destructive type of behavior because it never solves anything.”
“So what do you suggest?” I asked feeling defensive.
“We need to get to the root and discover what went wrong, and fix it, so that you can make better decisions for yourself and get back on the right track. Are you ready to do that?”
I gave a hollow laugh. “I don’t see how you can change what has already happened.”
