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“Mwhethereficslllle...” mumbled Tucker and his head lolled from side to side.
“What is he on?” the driver asked, checking the rearview mirror. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital first?”
“No,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure. “I want to get him to rehab as soon as possible.”
“Does he know that?” the driver chuckled. “He may put up a fight once he realizes where he’s going. Those places are like prison, man. Bars on the windows, the whole deal.”
I didn’t want to get into a conversation with the cab driver about drug rehab. I gave him a tip for helping me get Tucker on the plane and before we knew it, we were getting off the island and into the sky again. I was grateful to Sam for organizing the plane for me. It made everything so much easier. Tucker sat up once, looking around him with wide open eyes.
“What the fuck…” he said.
But before I could talk to him, he’d passed out again.
I had a memory of Tucker then, as a kid, back from when we were growing up in Boston, before my parents moved out to Cape Cod. Back when he was in high school in the city, a quiet kid but with so much potential. He’d always been more introverted, like me. Not as sporty as Derek or academic like Helen was. Tucker’s thing was music, and he took extra guitar lessons. He had a knack for it too and he was always plucking at the strings, trying out new songs in his room. But the high school in Cape Cod did not have a great music program and this didn’t help Tucker adjust to our new surroundings. This high school was more about athletics, track and field and swimming, none of which we were particularly interested in. Tucker was thin, gangly, his hair dark and wild. He let it grow long for a grungy look and my parents let him be. But this only made him stick out more, made him a bigger target for the bullies, who were jocks of course, muscular guys who enjoyed pushing around a shy kid from the city. Tucker joined a teenage band, and this gave me hope, the others in the group were just as awkward as he was. But I noticed that these guys became less about the music and being in class, and more about the weed and listening to other people’s music. I spoke to Tucker about it and for the first time, we’d started fighting. He’d tell me to leave him alone. But I didn’t want to worry our parents and I hoped he’d snap out of it. Before long, I was off to college and Tucker only had a year of school left.
But that was the year it all fell to bits. I heard from my mother that he’d started going out with a girl, a nice girl and that for a while, it seemed like things were looking up. He wasn’t smoking as much weed, was going to class more. Then she dumped him and the story in town was that it was all a prank, cooked up by one of the jocks. Tucker stopped going to school and started helping on fishing boats. By the time I heard the news and was able to make it back home, it was too late to get Tucker to see reason. He refused to talk to any of us. I thought he was depressed, I wanted to get him help, to see someone. He’d agree to meet me and then wouldn’t show. I made appointments with counselors, and he’d not turn up for them. My brother became unreliable and shifty. It broke my heart. My parents tried too, but anytime they tried to have a serious conversation, he’d put down the phone or walk out the door.
As soon as we landed, the pilot helped me get Tucker into Sam’s car.
“Nice ride,” he commented, with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s not mine,” I said quickly. “It belongs to…” I didn’t know what to say. Was Sam my boyfriend now?
“Thanks!” I smiled and quickly got into the car, locking the doors.
Tucker was beginning to show signs of waking up. He had agreed to rehab, this much was true. But he had agreed in principle. We hadn’t discussed an actual date or place. The last time he’d spoken to me he’d asked me to tell him when I was coming. It was entirely possible that he was saying all of that just to keep me and my mother happy. Perhaps he had no intention of going to rehab at all.
But looking at him, at his pale face with the sunken cheeks, the unhealthy skin tone, I knew the time was now. He was no longer able to make responsible decisions about his life. He wasn’t even conscious. He didn’t even know where he was. I had to help him, or we would lose him.
I drove to rehab straight away, calling my mother from the car for the address.
