Page 22 of Mountain Man Bad Boy

When she left to continue her rounds, I had a lot to think about. I went back to my own room but found my roommate hosting a game of cards on his cot. There were three other patients crowded around, one of them sitting on my bunk. I went back to the arts and crafts area to clean up my pastels.

Monday was four days away. That meant I had four days guaranteed with Gina and only a short time left to make sure I was ready for the real world. I went to the nurses’ station to ask if I could make a phone call. They told me the call would be recorded, just to ensure I wasn’t placing an order with my dealer. I had to log each number with my name, the date, time, and my signature. After jumping through all their hoops, I put in a phone call to Mr. Matthews to let him know about my release date and to ask about my job.

“The job is still here. I said I would hold it for you, and I’m holding it,” he answered.

I called my landlord to tell her that I would be moving back on Monday. I held my breath throughout the entire phone call, expecting her to say they had to hire a hazmat crew to clean up after me, but no such crisis. She told me I was already paid up for another two months, so there was no problem.

I called Mike and talked to him until the stink eye from a nurse chased me away. He was pleased that I was coming home and, typical for him, optimistic about my chances at staying clean this time. He insisted that I come over for a cookout as soon as I was able and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I agreed after a lot of back-and-forth and then excused myself to go play video games.

One of the social workers came to find me later with a laundry list of things I had to accomplish before I was released. I had to sit with a therapist one-on-one to create a crisis plan that I would take with me when I left. The crisis plan would have phone numbers I could call and people I could reach out to if I found myself craving the high again. I had to pass a physical and talk to a peer counselor about my living situation.

A lot of people moved from the inpatient facility to a halfway house, where they still had direct access to counselors and social workers. I was moving out on my own, so there were all kinds of boxes they wanted checked before I left. Did I have a place to live? Did I have a support system? Did I have friends that weren’t users? Did I have a job? Yes to all four, but it had to be documented in triplicate and signed before I would be able to leave.

“How would you feel about having your employer come by?” the social worker asked.

I frowned. I liked Old Man Matthews. I couldn’t ask for a better boss, but the fewer people who saw me in this place, the better.

“I really think it might help create a bridge between where you are now and where you need to be,” the young man continued.

“Okay,” I relented.

We got on the phone together and called Mr. Matthews back. This time there was no protocol to follow and no stink-eyed nurse to chase us away.

Mr. Matthews got back on the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me again,” I started. “You’re on speakerphone. I’m here with my social worker…”

“Sean Patrick,” the young man supplied. “Yes, I’m working with Mr. Hayes. He tells me you have a job waiting for him.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Matthews confirmed.

“I wondered if you might be available to come by and talk to us about Porter’s goals. I’m not asking you to take any kind of responsibility for him. Just having an ally in his daily life would be enough.”

I widened my eyes at the guy, wishing that he didn’t have to be so dramatic. I didn’t need an “ally,” and I sure as shit didn’t need Mr. Matthews taking any kind of parental interest in me. But I shut my mouth and went along with it. The problem with hitting rock bottom is that you need help climbing up. And with help came vulnerability. It was a hard pill to swallow.

“Happy to,” Mr. Matthews said.

I relaxed. Good old Mr. Matthews was going to spend his Saturday driving to Nashville to help me out. I realized I was going to have to work extra hard when I got back to make up for all the kindness he was showing me. I was going to have to pick up as many extra shifts as I could. And maybe, just maybe, I could fit in dinner or a movie with Gina, if I played my cards right.

She came to find me right before dinner Saturday evening. “I’m off in five minutes.” I thought it was sweet how she kept me updated about her comings and goings. Without any of the traditional dating rituals, just letting me know when she was going off shift was enough to communicate that she cared.

“Say hi to Evil for me.” I smiled. “Let her know I’m just waiting for her instructions.”

Gina laughed. “I will definitely not tell her that. You don’t want her to get any ideas.”

I nodded. This was potentially one of our last conversations, and I wanted to make it count. “Your dad came by to see me today.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

“He’s really kind,” I admitted. “He’s gonna do everything he can to help me, and I’m not gonna let him down.”

“He’s a good man. I didn’t always see that and I gave him a run for his money when I was a teenager, but I’m glad you’ve got him in your corner,” she said. I felt bolstered by the slight glimpse of her personal life she was sharing.

“He says there’s a big order coming up from a construction company that’s building a few houses. I’ll be right in time to help them fill that.” I was just saying words, anything to lengthen the time spent in her company.

She played along, her clipboard at her side, watching me carefully. We transitioned into an awkward silence, and neither of us could fill the gap. I wanted to ask her about her plans for the night, about what shampoo she used, and how long it took to comb her hair. But none of those things was appropriate. The last thing I wanted to do was freak her out when I was so close to being available. So, I held my tongue and couldn’t come up with anything better to say.

“Well, I…” she began, searching my eyes for a lifeline.

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