Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [120]
The little graduation was held in the activity room at Hope’s Wings. Sarah came home from school in order to attend the ceremony with me. And to everyone’s surprise, Geoffrey showed up as well. I didn’t even notice him at first. Like me on my first visit at Hope’s Wings, he, too, lingered near the back of the room, clearly uncomfortable with these unfamiliar surroundings that have come to feel like a second home to me. But I have to give him this, he did come up and shake Jacob’s hand afterward. He even said a few kind words. And for a brief time, even Geoffrey was a believer in the rehab program at Hope’s Wings.
But our relief was short-lived. For, as we all know by now, there is no sure thing in rehab treatment. It’s all up to the addict to live out his plan, to make that daily decision to remain clean, to attend his meetings, to meet with his mentor, to succeed at his recovery. And to be perfectly fair, circumstances do play a small role as well. But this role is highly overrated by the addict himself. Especially if he’s still in denial.
Jacob got a job with a janitorial service within a week of his graduation. I was surprised that he was willing to clean toilets to earn money, but he assured me that he was perfectly fine with this sort of menial labor.
“I feel like I have to pay my dues,” he told me as he showed me his gray uniform. “Kind of work my way back up through the system, you know.”
“I’m really proud of you,” I said.
“And I’ll be able to take classes and still work,” he told me. “I think I’ll try to start going to SSCC during spring term.”
“That’s great.”
And it was great. For one whole month it was absolutely great. I felt like life had really returned to normal by then. Of course, anyone involved with a drug addict should realize that normal doesn’t exist anymore.
Then one day when I’m not looking, it all falls apart. In one evening, in early February, it all just seems to go to pieces.
Of course, Jacob tells me that it’s not his fault. That he was just minding his own business last night, scrubbing a hallway floor in a local business, when some jerk shoved him and made the bucket of dirty mop water go everywhere.
“It just kept getting worse and worse,” he explains the next day after I’ve been called to come to the emergency room to help pick up the pieces of my son’s recently shattered life.
“My boss showed up and really tore into me,” he tells me as the nurse rechecks his blood pressure. “And I was so sick of it, sick of everything—cleaning up other people’s messes, never being appreciated for anything.” He shakes his head and quietly lets out a curse. “Well, that was it. I just walked out. And then I was on my way home, and I ran into an old friend…” And on his story goes until he is telling me how his friend offered to hook him up with some “good stuff.” Before the night was over, Jacob had binged on an undisclosed amount of crystal meth and somehow made it to the emergency room before it was too late.
“I guess being clean made it easier for me to overdose,” he tells me with some embarrassment, as if his previous ability to use a lot of meth to get high was some sort of an accomplishment.
Jacob doesn’t even know who called 911, which resulted in a trip to the hospital, where it was impossible to hide his substance abuse. Of course, Marcus later assures me that this was really a blessing in disguise.
“You might not have found out about it otherwise,” he reminds me after I pour out the whole overdose story. “Or, even worse, he might’ve died.”
“I know,” I say as the tears finally start to gather. Jacob has gone to bed now, and after keeping up a cool, calm exterior all day, I feel like it’s finally my turn to experience some emotion. “I just don’t understand why…”
“This is just the way it goes sometimes, Glennis.”
“But he was doing so well,