I could never have imagined this level of misery.
Tug turned the shower on. I breathed a sigh of relief because based on our earlier experience the worst was over for an hour or two.
If he could only sleep, I’d be ecstatic, but the symptoms kept coming, wave after wave, and he simply had to endure them.
I found him shivering in the tub again.
“Hey.”
He turned his head away.
“C’mon. Let’s get you dry and back into bed.”
“This sucks.”
“I know.” I held one of the cleaner towels out. “C’mon.”
He stood, and it was an effort to keep my eyes on his face. He might have been too thin, but his lean body was smooth and sleek, almost hairless except for his pits and the thatch above his cock. Even like this, he was good looking. There were marks on his hands and arms. A few more ominous scars on his legs and back. They did nothing to mar his beauty.
He stepped out, and I looked away while I wrapped the towel around him.
“You can look. Doesn’t matter to me.”
I felt like a total dick. “Sorry.”
“Why? I’m not shy.”
“I don’t want to be that guy.”
He nodded. “Whatever. Can I listen to Sherlock Holmes again?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
He put the ear buds in and closed his eyes while I started the app on my phone. It tickled me that he’d asked for the story. You could take the librarian out of the library and all that. It was dawn, and while I wasn’t scheduled to work the weekend, I had to call and tell Suzanne I couldn’t work on Monday either. I needed to tell her what was going on anyway, and knew she was an early riser. I called her home number.
“Hi, Suzanne. Sorry to call so early, but I wanted to let you know what’s happening.” Briefly, I told her I’d followed up on Thuong and wouldn’t be in on Monday.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Sure. I—”
“Because if you’re not okay, I’ve got the number of a great shrink.”
“I don’t need to see anyone. Things worked out.”
There was a pause before she spoke again. “What do you mean things worked out?”
I gave a nervous laugh. “I figure I’ll do what I can to help Thuong until he can go into rehab.”
“You what?” I heard Suzanne’s sharp intake of breath. “You’re going to do what?”
“Come on. I know him. I had to follow up after the… incident.” Instinct told me not to say overdose out loud. Suzanne liked to live in a world made of euphemisms. “My cousin Echo’s helping me get him into a recovery facility.”
“No, no, no. Luke, is that why you won’t be in on Monday?”
“Yeah. I’m driving him to a place Echo knows in Stockton.”
“You’re what? Okay.” She took what she called calming breaths and we—her employees—tended to refer to as the early warning system. “Okay, I know you care about people but, it’s important not to be an idiot, Luke.”
“I’m not an idiot.” Suzanne could be pretty emotionally tone deaf, but she wouldn’t see that even if I pointed it out. “I’ll see you on Tuesday. Okay?”
“If you must, heave him into rehab and don’t look back. That way lies madness. Take it from someone who knows.”
“Good talk,” I murmured after she disconnected the call.
The Suzannes of the world baffled me. I would no more leave Tug to face detox and rehab by himself than I would have left him in the bathroom to die. Not because he was a friend or anything, but because he needed some help and I was in a position to help him. Someday, he’d pay it forward. Or maybe he’d succeed the next time he OD’d. What mattered to me was the thing I did.
Today. I only had to worry about today.
I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, Tug was pacing the room like an anxious tiger.
“What’s wrong?”
He gripped my shirt. “Why are you doing this?”
I gave a startled gasp. “I’m just trying—”
“What makes you think I need you here? Just go.”
“What?”
“You can leave any time you want. This is hopeless anyway. Save yourself the trouble. I’ll only fuck up.”
“You won’t if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, it’s so fucking easy for you, isn’t it?” he sneered. “Mr. Luke with the perfect family and the perfect life.”
“My life’s not perfect. No one’s is.”
“You hate me, hate me, hate me.” He punched the arm of my chair with each iteration. “That’s why you’re doing this, right? You hate me.”
I didn’t answer him right away. First, I was unprepared for a verbal and moderately physical attack, and second, he wasn’t rational at the moment. I did worry he might become more physical, then I’d have to reevaluate.
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Please get my backpack. I only need a taste so I can get through this. I can taper off. I will taper off. I promise.”
That answered one question. “You want to use?”
“You can have your girlfriend bring my bag, can’t you? What time does the library open?”
“I’m not going to ask Katie to bring you heroin, Tug.”
“C’mon. I need it. You can’t keep me prisoner here.”
“I’m not your jailer. You have other options. Do you want me to call Echo for you? You can talk to her about suboxone—”
“I don’t want your do-gooder fucking cousin’s advice, asshole. You have no fucking clue what I’m going through right now.”
“All right. Then what?” My heart rate accelerated, and my pulse pounded in my ears. “Are you saying you want to walk away? That I should let you leave, pack all this up, and walk away too?”
“I’m fucking dope sick, motherfucker. Do you even get what that’s like?” He glared at me, teeth gritted. “I can’t think until I get well.”
“There are other options for you besides natural withdrawal. Talk to Echo, tell her what you just told me.”
“I don’t want you, don’t you get it? I don’t need you, or your cousin, or anyone to be all up in my shit. I’m done here.”
“All right.” I got up and took my ear buds from him. I gathered my phone and my clothes. “I’ll leave the things I bought for you and the snacks. I have an empty duffel so you can carry them when we leave. I’ll tell the manager we’re going on the way out.”
“Wait. Just like that?” He angrily flipped the script. “Fuck you. You said you wanted to help me.”
Temper tantrum. Really? “The choice is yours, Tug. I want you to be free of the needle, but you always have a choice. Wear the clothes that are still clean and put your laundry in the bag with your other soiled things. I’ll pack you lots of water, all the Gatorade that’s left, and all the food.”
“Just because I want to make this easier, you’re quitting? Just because I want to sleep and I’m sick of shit running down my legs, you’re walking away?”