Page 81 of The Perfect Secret
He waited.
“May I go to tutor with Lexi, Dad? Please?”
With a smile, he nodded. She jumped off the couch and slammed the door. As he reabsorbed the silence after she left, he thought about what he’d read and the discussions he’d had. It had only been one lunch meeting, not including the one he’d arrived half way through. Now it was up to him to be brave enough to go ahead with it. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed a coat and left the building. Entering the drug store on the corner, he went to the pain relief section, grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen.
It was over-the-counter. It was non-habit forming.
He purchased a small bottle, the hairs on the nape of his neck prickling. Except this time, he had no reason for shameor embarrassment. Ibuprofen wasn’t illegal. He brought the bag home and placed the pills in the medicine cabinet.
As he prepared dinner, his mind drifted to the pills. Would he take them? Should he? Wasn’t this what he’d tried to avoid? He pulled the phone number of the group leader off one of the brochures. Swallowing, he dialed. “Darlene? It’s Dan. From…NA.”
“Hi, Dan. What can I do for you?”
“I bought the ibuprofen.”
“Okay.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it. Doesn’t this prove I’m addicted to it? I know it’s not physically addicting, but I don’t want to feel like I have to lean on it, like a crutch, in order to get through my day. And these constant thoughts about it can’t be healthy.”
“Dan, you know ibuprofen isn’t addictive. You’re thinking about it because it’s new. Take two pills and see how you feel. I think it’s the anticipation that’s worrying you. You’ll feel better having taken the plunge. Trust me.”
He swallowed two pills before he could change his mind. “I don’t feel anything.”
“You’re not supposed to. They’re not like the painkillers you were on before. As long as you follow the directions on the box, you’ll be fine. If you need to talk to me again, call anytime. The next meeting, we’ll see about getting you a sponsor.”
For the next two weeks, Dan went to lunchtime meetings every day. He didn’t take any more ibuprofen—he was used to the ache in his leg. He began to believe maybe what they all said was right: just because you wanted something with all your soul, didn’t mean you were addicted to it. But he couldn’t be sure, so he couldn’t risk calling Hannah. Too bad ibuprofen couldn’t cure the ache in his heart.
He did a lot of listening. He listened to the other recovering addicts in the meetings when they told their stories. He listenedto Tess talk about school and friends. He listened to his coworkers talk about their families and life outside of work. For the first time in a long time, he considered the possibility of developing friendships with some of them. And he listened when his sponsor, Brian, suggested he develop some outside hobbies.
“I used to work on puzzles,” he said.
“Puzzles are great. You should continue them if you enjoy them. But also try to develop something you can do with other people.”
“I stopped the puzzles, though.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid I was too dependent on them.”
Brian put down his soda and tented his fingers. “Some attachments are healthy, like exercise. People who exercise feel a physical need to do it, due to a chemical the brain produces that makes them feel good. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s excellent. If you feel a need to work something out when you’re in pain, a puzzle can be an excellent form of therapy. You want to replace your need for painkillers with something else. As long as you’re healthy about it, it’s fine. Don’t be afraid of developing an addiction to everything you like.”
“How do I know? How do I know if it’s a healthy attachment or a dangerous addiction?”
“You need to learn to trust yourself. You need to be honest with yourself and decide if you need to talk to a professional. And you have to be able to depend on those around you. In general, I’ve found if I need to hide something, it’s dangerous.”
Dan stirred the straw in his Coke and listened to the ice make a whirring sound as it spun around the glass. When he stopped moving the straw, the ice cubes clinked against each other, changing the liquid from a smooth whirlpool to choppy waves. Kind of like his thoughts these days—choppy, jumping from one thing to another, without any consistency.
“You know,” Brian said. “You’re supposed to do things to make you happy. As long as those things don’t cause harm to you or to those you love, it’s usually okay. Replacing bad habits with good ones is the goal. If you take away everything that makes you happy, life is pretty grim.”
Grim. It was a good description of his life. Perhaps it was time for a change.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hannah walked to her apartment, deep in thought. Aviva was engaged. She’d asked her to be a bridesmaid and Hannah accepted with pleasure. But as she walked into her building, a weight sat on her chest and made it hard to breathe. She wasn’t out of shape. She hadn’t walked long. It was cold, but she was bundled well.
It was sadness.
No matter how happy she was for Aviva, she was sad about her own life. And she shouldn’t be. She was young. She was intelligent. And when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t cringe. She worked for a great company where people respected her work and her. She’d met people there with the potential to be good friends. Aviva was her best friend, and she liked Jacob, her fiancé. She lived with her grandmother and they adored each other. By all accounts, she had a great life.