Page 21 of Unnatural
He grumbled before taking a muffin from the baggie and biting into it. Autumn waited as he chewed and swallowed.“Not Krispy Kreme,” he said. “But not half-bad.” He took another bite.
Autumn grinned. “Remember, your body is a temple. Treat it like one.”
“Yes, Nurse Ratched.”
Autumn laughed. “Cell one?”
“Yup.”
She walked through the small building to the cell areas near the back where she found the man slumped on the bench. She pulled the unlocked cell door open. “Hi, Seymour.”
He looked up, eyes bleary and rimmed in red. “You again?”
She sat down next to him. “Youagain? We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Seymour. It isn’t at all proper.”
“Proper? I don’t know nothin’ about proper.”
“Sure you do. You’ve just forgotten temporarily. I’m here to remind you.”
In answer, he tipped his head back, letting it hit the wall behind him.
“Also, you smell terrible,” she told him. “And you look like death warmed over.”
“Where’s my pep talk?”
“Thatwasa pep talk.”
He mustered a small humor-filled snort but then closed his eyes and sighed. “Give me the seal of approval so I can get out of here, wouldja?”
She put her hands on her knees, staring at him for a moment. He was thirty-six years old, and he looked like he was fifty-six. She kept hoping this would be the last time she’d see him sitting in a cell detoxing on Monday morning, and he kept disappointing her. “You’ve gottastop drinking, Seymour. Didn’t I tell you Franklin Brown said he’d accompany you to meetings at the church on Springhaven? They meet every Friday night. They’d welcome you with open arms.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, not opening his eyes.
“You have to make the choice though. It’s up to you.” She thought of the kids she’d grown up with, the ones who would have given their right arm to be able to stop waking up sick. “Do you know how many people would give anything to have a choice between feeling well and feeling half-dead?”
“Don’t put a guilt trip on me.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to inspire you to recognize the gifts you’ve already been given. Accept them now before it’s too late. No guilt. Just…hope. Belief.” She patted his knee. “This is no way to live, Seymour. Waking up in a drunk tank every Monday morning. Constantly feeling sick and miserable. You can do better than this.”
“Can I?”
“Yes.Yes.Leagues better.”
He spared her a glance and then was silent for a moment as she waited for him to blow her off. Again. What she’d said was true. She continued to hold out hope. But ultimately, his life was up to him.
“Fine. Friday night,” he mumbled.
For a moment, his words didn’t register. “Really?” she breathed. “Really?” She grabbed his hand.
He made a groaning sound as though the jostling movement was enough to make him want to toss his cookies, and looking at him, it probably was. She let go.
“I’ll text Franklin and he’ll pick you up. Friday. Be ready. The meeting starts at six thirty.” Despite his stench, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
He smiled but didn’t open his eyes.
She found the sheriff back in his office. “Seymour is cleared to go.”
“You realize I don’t need your clearance to send him on his pitiful way.”
