Page 67 of Existential
He was my father; what else do I need to say? He was my hero, no matter what sins he committed.
“What can we do to help?”
I swing my head his way, unsure if I heard him right. “What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever gets that smartass fuckin’ asshole back in your shoes, man. A few of the young guys are gettin’ a bit too big for their boots without you around to cut them down to size.” He digs me with his elbow, smiling as he takes another drag of his smoke.
“I wish I knew,” I say honestly.
How many nights have I lain awake wondering the same question? I’ve been like this, for so long that I don’t think I even know what it’s like to be “okay” again. What does normal feel like? Was I ever normal? Or did I simply not recognize the predator lurking below the surface until it was too late?
“I know what’s first, though.” I drop the remnants of the smoke and scrub it out under my toe. “I got to kick the habits.”
“Good.”
I scoff, folding my arms as I turn to face my VP. “As if you’re one to talk.”
“Occasional use has nothing on your dependency.” He points a finger my way. “How many times a day were you dippin’ into that box of yours?”
I look over his shoulder at the ghostly outline of the trees, trying to work out a typical day in my head. “I don’t know. A lot.”
“Damn straight it was a lot.” Crackers stamps out the last of his cigarette and then matches my pose. “The last time I spent a full day around you, I lost count at eleven.”
“No way,” I half laugh. “Just a few times a day to take the edge of was all it was.”
“Eleven.” He raises one eyebrow, daring me to challenge it. “How many days you been clean so far?”
“Coke? A couple of weeks.”
“What do you mean ‘coke’? What else is there?”
“H.”
He shakes his head, bringing one hand to his forehead. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot, you know that?” He reaches out, slapping both sides of my head in unison before I can duck away. “I swear there’s nothin’ in between here, sometimes.”
“Two days,” I relent. “I’m almost two days off the heroin.”
“Feel like you’re in purgatory?”
“Should that be any different than normal?”
He smirks, slapping me on the shoulder. “Lock down that gypsy bird, brother, because you’re gonna need yourself a nurse.”