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“You don’t sound convinced.”
I wasn’t. I controlled my coke habit. I could give it up without any trouble. I was convinced of that. The heroin was a fluke. I wouldn’t have done it again. Would I? My head was spinning with so many thoughts I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. “I don’t consider myself as having a drug problem.”
My mom leaned into my dad and stared at me until I looked away. “Ronan, how many times a week do you smoke weed?” I didn’t want to admit it to her. “I asked you a question Ronan,” she said.
“Stevie,” Dad said her name warning her to back off of me.
“No Declan. Our son almost died. We are not going to coddle him because you are afraid. You should be afraid of losing him to another overdose.”
My head shot around. “I smoked weed several nights a week. It calms me.” I looked down unable to meet the intensity of her eyes.
“Coke?” She asked.
“Sometimes I could go for months at a time without it,” I declared. The pills were another matter. She didn’t ask, I didn’t tell her.
She snorted. That tap-dancing around the truth answer wasn’t what she wanted from me. “How often Ronan?”
“Every other month or so one of us would pick up coke.”
She looked at my dad. “Do you know where to purchase coke Declan?”
He sighed. “I can’t say that I do.”
“Me neither.” She touched my chin forcing me to look at her. “How do you know Ronan?” She asked.
“It’s easier to find near campus,” I explained.
She nodded in understanding. “Who bought the heroin?”
“Not me,” I said my voice rising several octaves.
“But you were the dumbass that took it first, nearly dying. Ronan, your friends dumped you in front of the hospital. I guess we should count our blessings that they did that much for you. Are they really your true friends?”
“No, not such good friends.” I was questioning that one myself. Who just dumps you and leaves you? They hadn’t even checked on me since I was in the hospital. The assholes.
“Ronan, when Grampa told you that you were like my dad he was not kidding. He had to lay down the alcohol or Grams would have left him.”
My eyes shot up to my mother’s face. “Really?”
“Ask Gramps when you go back home.”
I nodded. Unsure of what he could tell me that would convince me that I was an actual addict. I felt that I could walk away from it any time I wanted. The weed. The coke. I swallowed. The pills. Definitely the heroin. I never wanted that shit again.
“I’m not going to coddle you or hide from you Ronan. I expect you to toe the line. You might be an adult but you’re my son. I sat with you every day that you were in that hospital and I waited forty-eight hours for them to downgrade your status from critical. Your kidneys are functioning again on their own and aren’t damaged thank god but do you know how lucky you are? You could have lived on dialysis for the rest of your life.
“Or ended up like the people who died in those twenty-four hours who were taking the shit that you willingly shot into your arm. A statistic right along with them.”
Mom made her point. “I get it,” I told her hanging my head.
“I don’t think you do Ronan. I don’t care if you take the bar. I don’t care if you work on the farm for the rest of your life with your brother but you will not do drugs again or I will not be there the next time. Do you get it now?”
“I understand?”
She turned then and walked out of the kitchen. I glanced over at my father. “She’s mad at me.”
“She is.”
“I disappointed you and pissed her off. You never said you forgive me.”
