Page 14 of Hard to Score

Maggie stares at me as she zones out for a second. I’m used to this from her, but the seconds give me time to study my sister and despise her even more for everything she didn’t become.

My once gorgeous sibling is now a shell of herself. Her hair that used to be glossy and the envy of her friends is now brittle and dull. Her model-worthy cheekbones now look like harsh angles. Her full lips are cracked and hiding stained teeth.

“If I ask, you’ll get mad.”

“Try me.”

I shut the door at my back and lean my shoulder against it. The last thing I need is Brexton coming out to this shitshow and having to explain yet another Bowman family embarrassment.

“What is it you need?”

She dances on her toes and then rocks on her heels, all the while her hands are continuously touching her face, her hair, her arms. It’s a dizzying constant that has to be exhausting. “Do you think you could spare some money? Please, Drew? Could you help me out?”

“What are you using this time? Meth? Crack? Or have we moved on to heroin?” My voice is as cold and flat as my expression.

“Does it matter? I just need a hit. Just something to take the edge off and then I’ll be able to think clearly.”

“When’s the last time you used?” I ask, trying to get as much information as possible to give to her sponsor.

“It was just today. Just yesterday. I swear.” Panic flutters in her voice and desperation owns her eyes. “I had some bad news. My job. I lost it. I was down and needed the pick-me-up.”

I nod as if I care, nonchalant despite the fury coursing through my veins.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I were stronger. I wish I could beat this but I swear to God, Drew,” she says as tears well in her eyes and defeat mirrors her posture. “It has its claws in me and no matter how hard I try, it keeps dragging me back down. I promise I’ll go back to rehab. I promise I’ll get better. If you’ll just help me tonight.”

Do I give her the cash and enable her? Do I push her away knowing she’s going to find her fix somewhere else—somewhere most likely more dangerous?

The same questions I ask myself each time.

The same difficult answers each and every time.

“Please.” She gives me a smile. She doesn’t realize she looks like a broken clown with makeup smeared beneath her eyes. “It’ll be the last time I ask.”

“Until the next time.”

“No.”

“You haven’t asked about her once, Maggs. Not once.”

“I know she’s okay.”

“You do? Is the high so important you’ve lost sight of what matters? Like, your three-year-old daughter? You know. . . Charley?”

“I love her. Don’t you dare accuse me of not loving her.”

What a waste. The thought runs on repeat as I look at her, and then think of the angel of a little girl who deserves so much better.

How is it that one thing, one event in time, started the slow demise of a family? It’s like a ball slowly gaining speed and power, trying to take out everything that it comes in contact with.

I think of Charley and the life she deserves, of the mother she deserves, and I take a step toward my sister, hating myself before I even speak. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to do whatever it is you’re going to do tonight . . . and then tomorrow afternoon, your sponsor is going to meet you at your house. From there you will check yourself back into rehab.”

The first tear spills over. “I don’t know if I can go back there. I don’t think—”

I step toward her and put my hands on her shoulders, holding her body still. “You can and you will. I’m not giving up on you, Maggs.” My heart aches in my chest at the empty words even I don’t believe anymore. “And we’re going to get you better, okay?”

She nods enthusiastically. “But can I have some cash for tonight? Please. I won’t ask again.”

“I’m sorry. I love you, but I can’t. Just like I didn’t last time. And the time before that. It’s clear the money I used to pay your rent only allowed you to use whatever cash you made to buy drugs . . . so obviously we need to make some changes when you get out of the program this time.”