JOSH

 

Just as I was coming to the conclusion that Sarah would never call, I received a knock on the door one afternoon and was told by one of the staff that I had a phone call waiting for me at reception.

“Hello?” I said into the receiver when I reached the phone.

“It’s Sarah.”

My heart dropped and my surroundings drifted into mist, the sound of her voice calling to me from a place outside the shadows.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact,” she continued.

“You don't have to apologize, I was pretty rude last time.”

“Would it be okay if I came to see you again?” she suddenly asked, brushing off my statement.

I felt a wave of pleasure rush through me and the mist withdrew.

“Of course,” I answered.

“That’s good,” she appeared to muse out loud, before adding, “I’m sorry I haven’t called you for all these weeks. I had to think about a few things.”

“I didn’t think you’d call at all.”

“Me neither,” she remarked. “I needed some time to think. When can I come?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere for the next week, so you can come any time.”

“How’s it going?”

“Good. I don’t really miss the drugs and booze anymore—well, my body doesn’t anyway. Apart from that I’ve been bored.”

“You don't have activities, things to keep you busy?”

“We do workshops where we paint, play sport, that kind of stuff to keep us busy. And we have a lot of therapy. Always therapy. Either group or one-on-one. Why we choose to take drugs. Why we can’t seem to survive in normal society. All of that crap really. But I spend most of the time in my room.”

“Does any of it make you feel better?”

I had to think about this. In a way it did. But not as much as the therapists there liked to think. For the most part I merely surrendered to it all because it was the only way to shorten your stay and get out. It was a kind of institutionalized process by which you had to comply, accept the therapy, not break the rules, participate, don’t try to escape. But whether it actually made you better was anyone’s guess.

“It does in ways,” was the best answer I could think of.

“What are your plans when you get out next week?”

“I don’t know. My dad came to see me several weeks ago, but he didn’t really say much. I guess Holman will come and pick me up and take me back to one of the houses.”

“And then what?”

“I guess they’ll keep me in the house, keep an eye on me. That’s usually the drill. Then once they think I’m okay, they’ll send me back to college.”

“It sounds like you’ve been through it all before.”

“I have. Six times before.”

“And it never worked?” she said, sounding surprised. “You always relapse?”

“For a few months I stay clean,” was my honest answer. “But I always seem to drift into my usual habits once again.”

“That’s what I feared,” she said softly.

There continued a brief hush between us and I awaited the return of her voice.

“I’ll come see you this evening if that’s okay with you,” she said.

“It’s perfectly okay with me.”

“You’re not busy?”

“With what? Sitting in my room watching the ceiling? I don’t think anyone’s gonna steal it if I take my eyes away from it for a few hours!”

I heard the ripple of a light giggle on the other end. I soaked it up, pleased that I’d caused a sensation other than fury in her.

“What time you wanna come over?” I asked once I’d had my fill of her mirth.

“It depends when one of my sisters can get me there, but it should be between five and seven. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I replied, before a sudden thought hit me. “Don’t eat before you come,” I added. “I’ll make us dinner. They let us use the kitchen and we can eat it in my room. Do you eat pasta?”

“Yes, I love it. But you don't have to make me dinner.”

“Let it be my way of apologizing for upsetting you last time.”

“Well then that would be nice.”

“Awesome! Are you a vegetarian?”

“No.”

“Good,” I exclaimed gently. “Then I’ll see you tonight. I’ll prepare dinner for five. If you’re later than that, I’ll simply reheat it.”

“Okay. Until tonight.”

“See you later, Sarah,” I said with a glint of excitement in my voice.

“Goodbye, Josh.”

She hung up. Looking around the lobby of reception it appeared brighter than it had when I’d initially taken the call, like all the lights had been turned up, and I realized that this was an effect of speaking with her. I walked back to my room and began writing down a grocery list for dinner. Inside the Peaks, certain members of the lower staff—security guards, cleaners, night watchmen—would bring you in things like food, books or anything else that wasn’t a narcotic or alcohol. It was tolerated among the management so long as it was all legal. Once I’d finished my list, I took it to one of the security guards and he went off to the supermarket. Such a buzz of excitement reigned in me then and I awaited Sarah’s visit like the leafless trees await spring.