Junk - Melvin Burgess [83]
They released Gems that night. I was away for three days. They charged me and put me through the Magistrates’ Court. I was remanded into the care of the Social Services for trial. I never told them anything, not a word.
I was out in the grounds the other day. The house itself is a dump, all shiny paint on the walls and stinking of boiled cabbage. But the grounds are beautiful – shrubs and lawns and wild places and big, big trees they must have planted a hundred or two hundred years ago. I came across this bush full of red berries and it was just blazing. And the air smelt of leaves and soil. The colour was so bright it hurt my eyes. I don’t mean like coming down, when bright colours are really unpleasant. I’m clean now. It was just a blaze of red, and I felt I was looking at something for the first time in three years. I thought, All that time the smack has been between me and the world around me, like a fat cushion you can’t see through or hear through or touch through. It’s like three years that never were. Like I put myself in a mental hospital and I’ve been heavily sedated for all that time.
I guess that’s about what happened.
No, it’s not prison. My case doesn’t come up for another three months. This is the detox centre in Weston-Super-Mare. My solicitor says that if I complete the course here in Weston, if I get a good report, if I stay clean, if I’ve settled down with Gemma and I get a job and all the rest of it, I stand a good chance of getting let off with a conditional discharge. We might even get married, Gemma and me. But the solicitor says, maybe that’s going a bit far, at our age.
I’m here, let’s face it, because I’m too scared to go inside. I know people who’ve done time and they all say the same thing: it happens, you just get on with it. But I keep thinking about the screws and how hard everyone is and I couldn’t cope with it, I know I couldn’t cope with it.
Funny thing, it wasn’t like that when I got busted. I was sitting in the cell thinking, Thank God that’s over. It was out of my hands, see? I thought I’d go to a young offender institution straight away, just get put away for a couple of years. No more decisions, no more failures, no more promises and lies. No more heroin. I’d lose everything – all the gear we’d bought, Gemma, my friends, the flat, the lot. And I was pleased about it. I was thinking, What a relief, I don’t have a life any more. Thank God for that.
And then the bastards let me go.
And then, of course, once I was out I started getting scared about it. The choices started up. So when the solicitor said there was a chance, I jumped at it. And it’s better this way. I’m in here because I want to come off. I want to be clean. I want to take control of my life, not leaving it up to the police. Christ – the cops as therapists – who needs that?
Of all the things I’ve realised since I came in here, the fact that I do love Gemma is the most important to me. Imagine – I’d forgotten I was in love!
I write to her every day. I draw a little yellow dandelion on every letter. We always sign our letters, ‘Dandelion, I love you.’
A lot of people here tell me I should split up with her. We drag one another down. I’m weak. I know that. That’s the first thing they teach you in here. You have to remember, you’re weak and you’ll always be weak. Every addict is. Gemma’s weak. There’s no such thing as a strong addict. So we drag each other down, I can see that. But I can’t give her up. She’s all I’ve got.
A month ago I could have done it, but not now. A month ago I didn’t love her. I didn’t care about anyone – my parents or my friends or Gemma; I didn’t feel anything any more. I thought it was me being on top of things. I thought not feeling anything was being better. It was junk. The