Junk - Melvin Burgess [92]
He got to the door when Sandra came back in. ‘How long have you been off it?’ said Sandra.
Tar turned at the door to look at her. ‘Just one day,’ he said.
‘What about last night?’ she said.
‘That was barbiturates,’ I said quickly. ‘He took some to help him get over the first night but they’re gone now.’
Sandra snorted softly.
Tar said, ‘You’re right, I’m just a junkie. I’m just a junkie and I just want to get back and get on with…’
And as he said this his face began to crumple up. He began to cry. As he started to cry he turned and ran out of the room.
I was shocked. He’d looked so cool. I stared at Sandra. She looked at me and suddenly, she ran out after him. He was at the door fumbling with the lock and Sandra threw herself on him and she grabbed his shoulder and spun him round, tall bloke though he was, and fixed him with a hug. She just wrapped her arms round him so hard he couldn’t move and hugged him and hugged him. I stood and watched his face over her shoulder. It was terrible. He cried and cried, he couldn’t stop. Αll the strength fell out of him. When she let him go he sank to his knees and then lay down on his side, his face in his hands, and he cried and he cried and he cried.
‘I’m just a junkie, I’m just a junkie, I’m just a junkie,’ he said, over and over and over. Sandra lay down next to him and put her arms around him. I got down too and lay half on top of him.
‘I’m just a junkie, I’m just a junkie,’ he said. He tried to get up but we held him down. I put my arms around him. I was crying too. Tar lay there underneath us both and wept.
*
Sandra was brilliant. Once she realised what was going on, she was right there. After a bit when the tears began to subside she said, ‘I’ve got some strong painkillers upstairs, would that help?’ Tar nodded. I mentioned the Paracetamol, and he said he’d had two. Sandra and I glanced at each other; he was in such a state we were scared he could do anything, so we made him hand over the packet and sure enough, he’d just had two. So Sandra went and got her painkillers. She’d had them prescribed for her periods, which had been really bad ever since she’d had a coil fitted.
Then we discussed what to do – me and Sandra, that is. Tar just sat there and watched us. Whether we should get to a doctor and try to get him on a methadone script, whether we should give him some money and pack him away on holiday somewhere. I have to hand it to Sandra – she’d have given over her life savings to save him once she came round to his side.
The trouble was, Tar wouldn’t have any of it. The tears had stopped, but he was as stubborn as a mule. He was going back to get some heroin. That was all. He wouldn’t agree to anything else. When she asked him if he wanted to go on holiday to Spain or somewhere, on us, he just said if we gave him any money he’d go straight back to Bristol and spend it on heroin, so it would be better for us not to.
All he wanted us to do was lend him the bus fare. In the end we decided to put off any big decisions and just go for that walk. At least he might feel better by the river. We could go to a pub and get a few drinks down him. But time was getting on and we decided we’d better have some lunch first.
We went to get it ready. I was in a right mess. I was appalled at what had happened. But one thing – he was himself again. He’d come back, all open and helpless, and I suppose that’s what won Sandra round in the end. But it was so sad, because it was being himself that he found so difficult to cope with.
We chopped vegetables and talked about what to do.
Sandra, bless her, wanted him to stay as long as he needed to. I remember standing there beaming to myself with pleasure and thinking, It’s the first time I’ve done this for weeks.
But when we went through with the food he was gone.
We ran round the house but his bag was gone from his room. I ran out on to the road