Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [117]
I felt a little bad when Sarah begged me to join her at my mother’s house, but I knew this was more than I could do. I simply told her that I needed to be here for Jacob.
“I don’t mean to sound jealous,” she told me,“but it seems you’ve given enough to him.”
“I know,” I assured her. “And if he wasn’t in rehab right now, I think I would’ve considered leaving town.”
“But if he’s in rehab, he should be okay.”
“Yeah, that’s sort of true, Sarah. But for rehab to really be successful, they encourage the support of family members. I go once a week for the family meetings, and they’ll have this special program on Christmas Eve that they really want family to attend. It’s my way of showing Jacob that I haven’t given up on him.”
“Do you think I should come home for it?” she asked suddenly.
“Oh, honey, it’s so sweet that you’d even consider doing this.”
“Well, should I come or not?”
“I think you should come if you really want to come, Sarah. It’s your decision. And if you can’t do this, I don’t think you should feel bad about it.”
There was a long pause. “I guess I don’t really want to come,” she finally admitted. “But if you thought it would help him—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I assured her. “But if you have time to write Jake a note or a card, I think that might help him as much as a visit.”
“I’ll do that, Mom,” she promised.
And she kept her word and did it. And now I have this card along with a few other things all bagged up and ready to take over to Hope’s Wings tonight.
Is this really how I wanted to spend Christmas Eve? I ask myself as I scrape a thin layer of ice from my windshield. Hanging out with a bunch of addicts and their sad-eyed families in the drab rehab-center activities room? Then I remind myself of how life felt just a few weeks ago, and I am surprised that I can even question this, but I suppose I’m just a little emotionally drained.
Still, I know this is far better than being home alone in my apartment and wondering whether Jacob is dead or alive. Count your blessings, I tell myself as the engine in my car finally turns over. Besides, I remember as I pull out into the street, Marcus will be there tonight. I turn on the radio, and it’s not long before I am smiling and humming to the Christmas music as I drive across town. To be honest, I am warmed at the thought of not only seeing Jacob clean and sober but also spending some time with Marcus as well. Really, life is not so bad.
“Merry Christmas, Mom!” calls Jacob as soon as I enter the room. He is instantly by my side, taking my coat and smiling just as he used to smile back in the old days.
“Merry Christmas,” I tell him as we hug. Then I hand him the bag. The “gifts” I brought for him are only practical items like shaving cream and socks and boxers, and all remain unwrapped (as specified in the party invitation), and no edibles are allowed since there is always the concern that drugs might be sneaked in through food. Although why a loved one would smuggle contraband into this place is way beyond me. I can’t imagine emerging from all I’ve been through to get Jacob into this place just so I could sneak him in a stocking full of needles and crystal meth.
Just the same, I had to pass through the “detox” entrance where Molly (tonight’s “guard”) inspected everything to make sure it was acceptable. They even go through your purse and pockets when you come to visit. Marcus told me that I’d be amazed at the lengths some recovery patients will go to in order to get a friend or family member to smuggle something past the “guards.”
“Then why are they here?” I asked him.
“Some are trying