Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [50]
“You think he should be?”
“I most definitely do.” He set his neatly folded handkerchief on the top of his laundry, then turned to look at me. “Maybe your boy would like to come to AA with me.”
“Alcoholics Anonymous?”
“We got a couple of fellas who’re recovering from drug addiction that come to our meetings too.”
“Really?”
“Oh, sure. Sometimes those two kinds of addictions go hand in hand. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if most drug addicts didn’t start out by drinking alcohol. Of course, you’ve got your purists at AA too.” He made a little chuckling sound. “There are always those alcoholics who think they’re better than drug addicts. Pretty funny if you think about it.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m in apartment 17A if your son’s interested. I don’t have a telephone. Don’t really see the need for one since I got nobody to call.” His smile faded a bit. “But if your boy wants to go with me, just tell him to come knocking on my door. Or maybe he’d just like to talk to someone…someone who’s been down some pretty hard roads and lost a lot along the way. I got plenty of stories to tell.”
“Thanks, Jack. I’ll let him know. Apartment 17A, right?”
“That’s the one. And the AA meetings are on Wednesdays at six thirty. I usually just ride the bus unless my buddy Hank decides to stop by and give me a ride in his Caddie.”
“Well, Jacob has a car,” I said eagerly. “If he decides to go, maybe he could give you a ride.” Already my mind was cranking on this possibility. Perhaps I could paint the picture of this sad and lonely old man for Jacob, play upon my son’s compassionate side, and encourage him to give Jack a ride to the meeting next week. It might work.
But that evening when I suggested this to Jacob, he was reluctant. “First of all, I have to work next Wednesday,” he told me. Then he frowned. “I mean I feel sorry for this old dude, Mom. But, honestly, do you really think I need to go to Alcoholics Anonymous?” He seemed hurt by my suggestion.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I told him. “I guess I just thought it couldn’t hurt, you know. Jack said that anyone who’s had a problem with addiction, whether it’s alcohol or drugs, needs to be in some kind of recovery program to get better.”
“But I am better. I mean, don’t you think I’m doing just fine on my own?” he asked.
“Of course,” I assured him. “You’re doing great. But I don’t want to—”
“You know that I’m a strong person, Mom. I mean I think this is something I can handle on my own, in my own way.”
“Right.” I nodded and told myself that this was probably best. Jacob had always been a strong-willed boy. I’d read that addicts can only recover when they choose to do so. Apparently he was choosing to do so now.
But after a couple of weeks at his job, and after getting his first paycheck, Jacob started staying out all night again. He’d usually come back to the apartment to clean up and change his clothes around noon the next day, and then he’d go in to work like nothing was wrong. But then he’d stay out all night again, and I wouldn’t see him again until the next day. Naturally, I wasn’t sleeping too well anymore. But when I would question him, he’d simply say,“Mom, I was just at Daniel’s again. No big deal. We were just doing music and lost track of the time, so I crashed on the sofa.”
At first I tried not to worry too much because Jacob had told me over and over that Daniel was a good influence. I knew that Daniel was a drummer who, according to Jacob, took his music seriously. But when the manager from Mama Mia’s called one afternoon, asking where Jacob was since he hadn’t shown up at work, I knew we had a problem.
Of course, I had no phone number for Daniel. I didn’t have phone numbers for any of Jacob’s “friends” anymore. But I knew that Daniel lived in a duplex not far from Mama Mia’s. So I decided to drive over to that neighborhood and see if I could spot Jacob’s car anywhere nearby.
It wasn’t the first time I’d gone out looking for Jacob. I couldn’t count how many times I had cruised around in my conspicuous Range Rover, going down