Page 55 of Taste of Addiction

“Place been vacant for months.”

“Yeah, it was sad to see it that way.” I fiddle with my fingers as I wait to see if he is going to invite me in.

“It was just a house,” he says with a shrug.

One you sold without even running it past me. “Did you get the money I wired?”

His eyes narrow, and he coughs into his arm. “Yeah. I suppose there’s no chance I can borrow some more.”

“What’s going on with you, Dad?”

“We are cut from the same cloth, Angela. It is part of our makeup and our personalities.”

I sigh deeply. “What are you talking about?”

“We are both addicts.”

I stumble back over his words. They are what Graham also implied this morning when he was rummaging through my pills. I get headaches. I am not a pill abuser. I am coping with pain. I am not a druggie. I am—

No. “How do you figure that?”

He laughs maniacally, and for a second I think he is just saying things to get a rise out of me. But then he continues, “Your boyfriend is worried about you.”

“Oh,” I say. Of course he would believe Graham. Graham is very convincing.

“But I see it with my own eyes. You are battling demons.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But not everyone needs to self-medicate while doing so. I know the signs. I have lived them myself. But you need to not be like me. You can be cured. I am too old to change now. But you can change.”

“I get headaches, Dad,” I say without an ounce of emotion. I am tired of explaining myself. “And I have residual shoulder pain from the accident.”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Angela.”

I look away. I’m not sure what I need right now, but a lecture is definitely not it.

Dad clears his throat and pulls at a piece of my hair. It is such a weird feeling. I can’t even remember the last time he has touched me or hugged me. “How long are you in town for?”

“Not long,” I say, looking at my cell for the time. “I need to get back to Portland for work tomorrow.”

He gives me a single nod. “I guess you don’t want to come in for dinner then?”

“Maybe another time.” I turn to leave.

“Angie?”

“Yeah?” I call back over my shoulder.

“Thanks for stopping by.”

12

It is pitch black when I get to the back road that leads from the community college to the town center. I park along the guardrails and walk along the gravel shoulder until I find the wooden cross nailed to a telephone pole with the initials JPM carved into the side.

I’m sorry, James.I’m sorry you came to rescue me, like you always did.

I close my eyes as I sit my butt on the edge of the rail. The person who hit us was at the party I attended. He was terrified of us going to the police. So he ran us over, killing James in the process. But James was just collateral damage. I’m the one who has the memories to unlock. I have the key to this mystery.

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