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We walk through a series of Corridors. Roy stares at me and I stare straight ahead. He tells me about the Unit and its Rules.

There are between twenty and twenty-five men on the Unit at any given time, three Counselors and a Unit Supervisor. Each man has a Counselor who oversees his Recovery Program and the Unit Supervisor oversees them.

Each man is required to attend three Lectures a day, eat three meals a day, and participate in all Unit activities.

Each man has a job that he is required to complete each morning.

Mood-altering chemicals are not allowed on the Unit. If you are caught using them or possessing them, you will be asked to leave.

Mail is passed out once a day. Unit Counselors reserve the right to open and search any and all mail.

Visitors are allowed on Sundays between one o’clock and four o’clock. The Staff reserves the right to search and examine any gifts or packages that you are given by Visitors.

The women are housed in separate Units and contact with them is not allowed. If you see them in the Halls, hello is okay, how are you is not. If you violate this Rule, you may be asked to leave.

Roy stares at me.

The Rules are serious business. If you want to recover, I’d recommend following them.

I stare straight ahead.

I’ll try.

We walk through a door marked Sawyer and we enter the Unit. We walk down a Hall with doors on both sides. Some of the doors have names on them and some of them are open. I can see men in the Rooms.

We leave the Hall and enter a large open Room with two levels. On the Upper Level there is a soda machine, a candy machine, a large coffeepot, a kitchen and a large table surrounded by chairs. On the Lower Level there are couches and chairs, arranged in a circle, a television and a blackboard. Against the far wall there is a Telephone Booth and there are large sliding-glass doors built into two of the other walls. The doors open onto large expanses of grass and trees, in the distance I can see a Lake. Men sit at the tables and on the couches. They’re reading, talking, smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. When I enter the Room, they all turn toward me and they stare at me.

Roy smiles.

Welcome to Sawyer.

Thanks.

It’s a good place.

I want to leave.

You’ll get better here.

Run away.

Trust me, I know.

Get fucked up.

Yeah.

Die.

Let’s go to your Room.

We walk from the Upper Level of the Room to a Hall off its far end. The Hall is lined with Rooms in which I hear People talking, laughing, crying. We stop at a door and Roy opens the door and we enter the Room. The Room is fairly large and contains four beds, one in each of the corners. Next to each bed is a small nightstand and a small dresser. A Bathroom is off to one side. There are two men sitting on one of the beds playing cards and they both look up when we enter.

Larry, Warren, this is James.

The men stand and they walk over to where I am standing and they introduce themselves. Larry is short and powerful looking, built like the butt of a sledgehammer. He has long brown hair and a thick beard and a southern accent. He looks as if he’s about thirty-five. Warren is in his fifties and he is tall and thin and tan and well dressed and he has a large smile. We shake hands and they ask where I’m from and I tell them. They ask if I want to play cards and I say no. I tell them I’m tired and I want to rest and I thank Roy and I walk over to the empty bed and I lie down. Roy leaves and Larry and Warren go back to their cards.

I close my eyes and I take a deep breath and I think about my life and how I ended up this way. I think about the ruin, devastation and wreckage I have caused to myself and to others. I think about self-hatred and self-loathing. I think about how and why and what happened and the thoughts come easily, but the answers don’t.

I hear footsteps, feel a presence. I open my eyes and there’s a man standing over me. He’s in his thirties. Medium height and thin like a reed with long bony arms and delicate hands. He’s clean-cut, short hair,