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“Are you having issues with the pills your doctor gave you?”
Brodie shook his head and wandered down the hallway.
“I need them to sleep. I can handle it.”
“How many do you take? Are you taking them every single night?”
Brodie’s steps faltered, but he remained silent.
“Dee?”
“Two. At least. Maybe three pills. And yeah, every fucking night. Sometimes with a drink or a spliff. A couple of sedatives. It’s fine.”
“It’s not. You shouldn’t be taking them every night. And not with sedatives. They’re addictive.”
“I’m in control, Van! I’m fine. You can see I’m fine. Stop mothering me!” he yelled and stomped into the kitchen.
I followed and watched him as he yanked on the fridge door. He pulled out a bottle of juice and chugged half of it.
“How long?” I asked.
“What?”
“How long have you been on the pills now?”
“Six months or so. Why?”
“You need to go back to your doctor. He’s gotta wean you off them. Don’t you get it? The longer you take them, the worse your sleep is gonna get. And the more pills you’ll need.”
Brodie’s eyes blazed. “Get out!”
“What?”
“Get out of my house! I don’t need you coming in here and telling me what to do!”
I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Dee, this is serious shit when it comes to your health. Not only that, but I have to tell Greg.”
Brodie slammed the bottle down on the counter and got right in my face. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest.
I’d already lost someone I loved a year ago. I couldn’t lose him, too.
And I knew, I just knew how these things went. I’d seen it many times in my career with many musicians.
He’d start taking more and more, and then he’d need a different pill or drug to wake him up, then there would be a phone call in the middle of the night and…
“Please, Dee, I can’t—” My voice cracked, and I reached for him. “I don’t want you to get sick or worse. You gotta nip this thing now. Please. Please.”
Brodie stared at me, silent. Then something in his gaze flashed, and he nodded, surprising me.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes. I’ll speak to my doctor. And not just about the sleeping pills,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
