Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [74]
I intentionally arrived a few minutes late for the meeting. This allowed me to slip into the back almost unnoticed. I listened to Marcus teaching about the physiological effects of meth use, explaining how addictive the substance was, and assuring the friends and family members that their loved one’s addiction was not their fault. Oh, I’m sure he said much more than that, but I felt so uncomfortable being there that it was hard to focus. Mostly I just watched the others, wondering who they were and how they had ended up in this place. To be honest, I felt we were a roomful of losers. Even when the people were invited to share, and some of the stories were very sad, I couldn’t help but wonder why we were all there. Was something fundamentally wrong with every one of us? Or were we really just victims of circumstance? When my turn to share came, I said very little. Only that my son had a drug problem and that I was looking for answers. I felt Marcus Palmers eyes on me, probing, as if he could see right through my thin veneer of words, as if he knew I was a being a total phony. Or maybe I was just imagining it.
The funny thing was that I felt a tiny bit better when I left. As I drove back toward town, I tried to understand what made me feel better and finally concluded that it was just the old misery-loves-company thing. As twisted as it seemed, it was comforting to know that other mothers and fathers were going through the same kind of torment I was. I was not alone. Even so, I wasn’t sure I’d go back.
In some ways I wanted to crawl into a hole and have everyone just leave me alone at this time. Oh, I knew I was depressed, but then who wouldn’t have been? I was unable to sleep at night and napped off and on during the day. I began letting the apartment go, letting myself go. I even quit jogging and hadn’t had a shower in days. It felt like my mental health was directly attached to Jacob’s. As if some invisible umbilical cord still connected us, and as long as he floundered and suffered, I was forced to endure the pain with him. Did I honestly think this would help anything? Did I think it would make him get better sooner? I’m not sure what I was thinking. Or if I was thinking at all.
Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d missed my appointment with Dr. Abrams as well as the second codependency meeting, and I really needed to talk to someone. I knew that my mom wouldn’t be any help. And even my two siblings, Edward and Abby, would probably not be terribly sympathetic. Abby, several years younger than I was, was still in the “my children are so perfect” stage since her twins, Lacy and Macy, were only seven and adorable. And I’m sure she would’ve been appalled to discover what was going on with her nephew. Hopefully my mother hadn’t told her yet. And my brother, Edward, had recently gone through a painful divorce—his wife had left him for another man—and he was still in the grieving process. I suspected he would be somewhat sympathetic to my situation with Geoffrey, but since he was childless, I doubted he would understand my dilemma with Jacob. Besides, he was probably at work right now.
I suddenly knew it was time to call Sherry and tell her the complete story. Any last remnants of my pride had long since been crushed. If she was ready to hear it, I was ready to unload it. I wanted to tell her the whole truth, including every sad and gory detail of Jacob’s frightening meth-amphetamine habit.
“Can you meet me for lunch?” she said in her brisk business voice, and I could tell that I’d interrupted something important. I imagined her in a sleek designer suit, every hair in place, perhaps in the middle of some million-dollar transaction, and felt embarrassed as I looked down at my grungy sweats, the same ones I’d been wearing all week.
Even so, the mere idea of showering and dressing seemed totally overwhelming to me. Impossible even. “Uh, Sherry, do you think you could come here?” I asked meekly. “I’ve been a little,