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“A few days ago.”
The counselor looked up from his papers. Michael hated that he had already forgotten the guy’s name when he had just told it to him at the beginning of the appointment. “Mr. Brennan, what did you go to prison for?”
Michael had never talked about his charges out loud. It was public knowledge – anyone could look him up and find out what he did with a bonus of his lovely mugshots. Picking at a small hole in his jeans, he wiped his clammy hands down the side of them.
“Aggravated assault and theft of property over 10,000 dollars.”
The counselor nodded. There was no judgment on his face. No hesitation. Just him writing the information down for future use.
“What are you addicted to, Mr. Brennan?”
“Addicted to?”
“Someone thought AA and NA would be good for you, which tells me somewhere along the lines you’ve used substances and drank alcohol to excess. Care to share what those substances are?”
“It’d be easier to write what I’m not addicted to,” Michael replied, forcing a laugh. “Anything with alcohol. One sip and I can’t stop. Drugs included meth, cocaine, and of course marijuana which I don’t think is habit forming.” He let out a sigh. “Sex. Women. Money.”
“You ever use intravenous drugs, Mr. Brennan?”
“No. Never. I smoked it or snorted it up my nose.”
The counselor looked up again. “Be sure you’re honest with me or we won’t be successful.”
“Never. I’ve never stuck anything like that in my veins.” It was the truth. He didn’t like needles and there were too many diseases flying around from others who used them.
“You ever have a partner who used intravenous drugs?”
Michael thought about Marilyn. She was all about the IV drugs, including heroin, which he refused to use. He’d often helped her find a vein and do it for her as she laid back on the bed and drifted off into oblivion. “Yes. A past girlfriend of mine did. Heroin.”
“Did you have unprotected sex with her?”
“All the time.”
“Have you been tested?”
Michael nodded. “Yes. Being a prisoner requires getting tested. They tested us every six months. I’m clean. My most recent test was a few days before I was released. All good.”
“The aggravated assault and theft – tell me more about that.”
The questions were so invasive. Michael didn’t ever want to talk about the choices he had made. “I stole some money and beat a dude up for it.” There was so much more to the story, but Michael wasn’t in a talkative mood.
“Stole money to get high?”
“Yes. It was mine and Marilyn’s thing. Screw and get high. Get high and screw. We were outta money and both horny as hell.”
The counselor looked at the clock. “Well, the hour is up. I’ve got your basic information that will help build our therapy foundation. I’m going to set you up with a standing appointment at this same time on Thursdays. Will that work with your schedule?”
“It’ll be fine. I work until five, so anything after will be good.” Michael stood and shook the man’s hand. “It’s kinda hard to plan with all this in-depth stuff they have me doing. And I’m sorry, I forgot your name. I’m horrible with names.”
“Sam.”
“See you next week, Sam.”
Walking out into the evening air, he took a deep breath and stared down the road. He needed to call Marilyn about the DNA appointment, but he didn’t want to talk to her. Bringing her up in therapy just made his mind race with thoughts of their past. They’d hold up in a room for days, drinking, using, and having sex – some of it was mind-blowing, some of it he couldn’t remember. He figured if Jace was his, he was likely conceived while they were both under the influence of something illegal.
He hated the thought – it was the same pattern as he was brought up, only Jace would know who his father was. At least that was an exception to the rule his family followed.
Lighting a cigarette, he inhaled the toxic smoke, enjoying the burn within his lungs. He dialed her number and held the phone to his ear, leaning on the office building he had just come out of. She picked up almost instantly.
