Page 166 of Relapse

NOAH

The medication dose given by my doctor during rehab had been updated a few days after my encounter with Silas. I was on methadone to manage my OUD recovery, and the new dosage was already wreaking havoc on my system. I could feel the heaviness pulling at my eyelids during all hours of the day.

It was evening and even as I sat at the dinner table, I was struggling. My mother’s soft singing drifted from the kitchen like a lullaby I didn’t have the strength to resist. I told myself I’d just rest my eyes for a moment, just let the drowsiness pass, but the methadone had other plans.

I daydreamed of Delane. She had mentioned visiting soon. In my head, I could see her cooking, specifically, I recalled the time she made pancakes at my house. The memory of us smiling and sharing simple details of our life brought me comfort. I wished I could remember more about it, but I was drinking so much then. Night and day.

Damian randomly snapped me from my trance. “Hello? Anybody in there?” He waved his fingers in front of my eyes, and I flinched back into reality, disoriented. My pleasant thoughts dissolved like smoke.

“What?” I snapped back, annoyed.

Damian stared at me skeptically. “I’m going to work. Make sure to finish your dinner.” He gestured to the half-eaten plate that sat before me and raised a threatening eyebrow.

“Have a good night at work, sweetheart!” Mom called from the kitchen.

I grumbled my goodbyes, forcing myself to eat a few more bites. The methadone was doing something to my stomach, and food just wasn’t really appealing at the moment.

“Wait—” Damian said, rounding back around the corner with a smile. “I almost forgot.”

He approached me at the table and held out his hand.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Congratulations, Noah. One month sober.” Damian was grinning ear to ear as he handed me a little red chip with the number 30 engraved on the side. “Your sponsor brought this for us to give to you,” he added.

My mom flew out of the kitchen, squealing, and grabbed hold of me. “You did it, baby! This is such an important milestone.”

I stared at the little red chip. One whole month. No alcohol. No smoking. Nothing outside what my doctor prescribed for the addiction support.

I was too embarrassed to share how happy I was with my brother. Still, I smiled up at him.

“Thank you.”

I wasn’t going to tell him how I threw the first chip away. The one I had gotten for 24 hours sobriety at rehab. Now that I had reached this new point in my recovery, I regretted getting rid of the first one.

But as I learned from my time at Flourishing Foundations, I couldn’t change the past. I could only push forward.

And as I traced the numbers on that little red chip, I knew that’s exactly what I was going to do. Keep pushing. Keep trying. Each and every day.

Damian ruffled my hair like I was twelve, and then he left.

The house was quiet besides my mother’s soft humming. She continued to busy herself in the kitchen, the sound of water running filled the space as she washed the dirty dishes. I didn’t understand why she never let the maids take care of the messes in the sink. But she swore it was something she enjoyed doing. Cooking and cleaning made her feel useful, she said.

I was almost lulled to sleep by the soothing reverberation, my eyes fluttering as I strained to stay awake. The new medication helped to ease both cravings and pain considerably, but after taking this first new dose, my body wanted nothing more than to shut off. And rest.

My fork clattered out of my hand, the sound jolting me to awareness.

The house was silent.

I stood up from the table and brought my plate into the kitchen. “Mom?” I called.

But she wasn’t there.

I ducked around the corner, peering into the darkness. Where could she have gone so quickly? She was just here. She was just singing.

When I turned back around, I gasped, the plate slipping from my hands and breaking into a million pieces when it came in contact with the hard tile floor.

David was there, leaning against the kitchen island, staring at me. My only company.