Page 84 of Love Sick

“Your son was as crazy as you,” Noah replies. “On the outside, he appeared to have his shit together, playing ball, dating the popular girl, but he was messed up. And the way he dealt with that was to get fucked up.

“But like every junkie, one taste had them craving more. And when more wasn’t enough, he was willing to do anything to quiet the noise in his head. They’re all the same. Coming to me saying it’s the last time, but we all know it’s bullshit.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. It’s not my fault he was damaged. I suspect that’s the case because he didn’t want to disappoint you. He turned to drugs instead of his mother…which doesn’t say much about your parenting skills.”

Noah is saying this to throw me off course. But his words only make things sharper.

“What else?”

Noah’s smug smile falls off his face as that clearly wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“Don’t hold back,” I quip, blowing out the flame on the match right before it burns out.

“He would come here and get fucked up, crying in the corner of the room about his daddy. Felt sorry for the kid.”

“So to help him, you offered him a job?” Dutch snarls, his anger palpable. “You are a motherfucker.”

“You should be thanking me…you can live because of his dead heart.”

Dutch advances forward and punches him in the jaw.

Noah’s head snaps back with a satisfying crack. He spits out a mouthful of blood, eyes filled with rage.

“Alanna met him at the hospital,” he says with spite. “He was looking to score. That day condemned his fate. She found out who he was and whose son he was. We’re all connected because of that day. She asked me to introduce them and got to know him. I don’t know much else about that…you’ll have to ask her. But she took a shining to him.”

I failed as a parent. All of this is my fault. I never understood any of this, but now that the pieces are falling into place, I realize that Misha is the epicenter—just like his heart—to this all.

It was one chance meeting which triggered this nightmare.

“So you worked at Parkfields to get free drugs which you sold and made money from?”

“Guess so, and not to mention, there’s something about crazy chicks. Money can be made everywhere. You just need to know where to look. I’m an entrepreneur.”

Dutch scoffs, not at all humored.

“How long did Misha deal for?”

Noah purses his lips in thought. “I don’t know. Two years or so.”

Now this is a shock. How could I not see it?

I think back and try and remember any signs—but I didn’t see any. He was always my beautiful boy. He could do no wrong. But there was so much wrong and now he’s dead because I was too blind to see the truth.

“He was a functioning junkie, Luna,” Noah says, as my poker face has slipped. “Happens all the time. With that smile, he was my best dealer. Could sell to anyone, and the more he sold, the more he got high.”

Noah is happy to share these details because he thinks he has the upper hand, that he somehow is the one in control. But I’ve heard enough.

Lighting another match, I walk behind the counter and reach for a plastic spoon left on the bench. I use the flame to mold it into what I want. The action is somewhat cathartic because this will be over soon.

“We’re all to blame for something. I will never forgive myself for not being able to help Misha. But unlike you, he was more than a messed-up kid. He was loved. And his memory will always live…unlike you.”

I use the rough edge of the counter to shape the burned-down spoon into something other than a spoon.

“We all make choices in our lives and although Misha didn’t make the right ones, he never hurt anyone other than himself. You, on the other hand…”

A small droplet of blood forms on the end of my thumb the moment I press it into the sharpened tip of my homemade shiv.

I lock eyes with Dutch, who nods.

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