Page 23 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

I didn’t have one, because I was falling fast. “You better go. It’s gonna rain.”

“Is it?” she asked, as if that were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Yeah, the forecast said rain tonight.”

“Then I should go,” she agreed.

“Be safe,” I said, wishing I could touch her.

She waved a hand in the air, as if communicating through a glass wall. I let her go, watching as long as I could without crossing into creeper territory. I followed her movements as she crossed the common area to the nurses’ station, then turned my back. I deliberately hid out in the game room until I was sure she had gone. I only had one more day with her before I was discharged, and I was determined to make it count.

Sean was going to be in charge of my follow-up. He would call every day in the beginning, just to make sure I was on the right path. After a few weeks, he would scale back until he was doing weekly and then monthly check-ins. If I remained sober for two years, they would officially close my file, and I would be done.

I was required to talk about my feelings in group therapy. I started with “anxious to get out of here and eat some real food” and moved on to “worried that I might run into my dealer.” It was all true. As much as I wanted to look like a real man in front of Gina, I was scared to death of a relapse.

“I guess what I’m most scared of is being by myself,” I said, standing beside my chair as the rest of the patients sat in circle around me. “I mean, I don’t have a real great opinion of myself, so what’s to stop me from going back?”

“And what is the answer to that question?” the therapist prodded gently.

“I have my crisis plan,” I said.

“That’s right,” she approved.

“And get to a meeting,” one of the other group members said.

“Yeah.” I knew all that.

I knew it in my brain, but what would happen when I went home and found myself without the structure of the treatment center? Would I really be able to fight the demons at two in the morning? Could I turn my life around and continue on the path to wellness, or was I destined to fail? Then I thought of Gina, and a surge of determination gripped me. I was going to do it, if only for the opportunity to see her again.

Gina hadn’t come to say goodbye. Either she had forgotten, or she didn’t actually care. I had missed dinner, which wasn’t a big deal. I could go hungry for one night and take myself out for a big breakfast at a real pancake house tomorrow morning. I wished I could take Gina out for pancakes, but apparently the entire friendship had been all in my head.

I had resigned myself to reading in my room, when I heard the familiar tap on the door. I set my book down, looking up to see her bathed in hallway light, looking exhausted. I sat up instinctively, making room for her to sit opposite me. She accepted the gesture with relief, sinking into the mattress and leaning against the wall for support.

“Rough night?” I asked.

She nodded. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, we had a situation on another floor by it’s been resolved.”

“Is everyone alright?” I was already familiar with the hospital privacy laws that forbid me from knowing much of anything about anyone else. But that simple question seemed safe enough.

She exhaled, meaning that everyone was not entirely okay. “I’m supposed to go over your crisis plan and your support network with you one last time.”

I decided to shoot my shot. “You look like you’d rather be home with your feet up. You could give me your number and we could run through it all tomorrow instead.”

“Ha ha.” She leaned toward me, more casually than I had ever seen her before.

“You don’t have to walk home, do you?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

“I do.” She straightened.

“It’s late.” I didn’t want her out walking the streets at night.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

“Do what?” I couldn’t believe she was talking about the same thing I was thinking.

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