Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
We were free to choose our seats in the cafeteria, so after I gathered my tray, I picked an empty chair and sat down. A handful of recovering addicts looked up at me with sallow faces. One woman smiled, her teeth blackened and her hair whisper thin. Another man moved his juice closer to his plate, as if I would steal it.
“Hello,” the woman said.
“Hello,” I greeted her, focused on my own meal.
“Where’re you from?” she asked.
“Singer’s Ridge.”
“Where?” Her voice had a screeching quality that made me want to wince.
“It’s a small town,” I explained.
“Oh.” She sniffed.
“Ever been to Miami?” one of the other addicts asked.
I turned to look at him. He was younger than me, with holes in his ears so big that the lobes draped halfway to his shoulders. I shook my head.
“I been,” the woman said.
“I’m just stuck in Nashville ’cause I got stopped for a DUI,” the younger man explained.
I shook my head, sympathizing with him. This treatment procedure was one hell of a punishment for driving drunk. Then again, drunk driving killed innocent people, so maybe the bastard had it coming to him. Either way, I decided I didn’t really care to know a whole lot about any of these strangers. I ate my meal in silence and excused myself as soon as I could.
Gina found me in my room, lying on my bed, reading the Bible. She peered inside, looking for me. My heart thrilled with that one little revelation. I knew she was assigned to me and probably checked in on all of her patients, but the fact that she was, at the moment, looking for me took my breath away. I sat up immediately, putting the book down.
“Find anything good to read?” she asked from the entrance.
“Just the Bible.” I gestured to the open book on my pillow. “I guess it’s called the ‘Good Book’ for a reason.”
She sat down on the bed opposite mine, smiling as if we had a running joke. “And what is that reason, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I said, warming to the topic. “It has a lot of sex and violence. If video games are out of the question, then the Bible ought to be off-limits.”
“Be careful,” she teased. “There’s a lot of support for what we’re doing in the religious community.”
“I meant no offense.” I held my hands up, changing the subject. “How are you doing?”
“Oh.” She took a swipe at a stray lock of hair, brushing it out of her eyes. “I’ve had better days.”
“What happened?” I wanted to know if anyone had been hassling her.
She seemed to know exactly what I had been thinking, because she shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s not any one person. It’s just that two nurses called in sick today, so I’m having to pick up extra rounds. And… there was an incident in the locked ward. I can’t give you any details.”
“Were you hurt?” I asked bluntly.
“No,” she said. “No one was hurt.”
I relaxed. “Is this dangerous work?”
“It can be,” she admitted, “but we have protocols and cameras, and help is never far off.”
“Okay.” I let it drop. She wasn’t my girlfriend or my wife. I had no responsibility or even ability to protect her.
“Can I show you around?” she asked.
I nodded, already forgetting Brad’s half-assed tour.
“You don’t currently have a roommate,” she said, standing up.
I exhaled in relief. This entire time I had been dreading meeting the person who would share my space, even for a few nights. I didn’t want to wake up with their stale breath in my face or witness any uncouth nocturnal rituals. It was rude of me to condescend toward addicts, me being one of them. But I knew better than most how intrusive people could be, and I wasn’t looking forward to sharing a room.
“That may change in the next day or so,” she cautioned me.
“Of course,” I agreed. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. I wouldn’t say anything negative about anyone they wanted to put in here. But I would allow myself a private celebration over one night roommate-free.
Gina led me out of my room into the common area. “If you get a visitor, you can sit with them here.” She pointed to a corner of the room with comfy chairs offset by circular end tables. “If you want to write a letter, you can ask at the nurses’ station.”
“Do people really write letters?”
“Yes,” she assured me. “It kills some time, and it’s cathartic in a way. You can get all your feelings out on paper in a way you can’t on a phone or an email.”
“When do I get my phone back?” I wondered.
“When you leave,” she answered apologetically. “It’s just too much of a risk.”
“You wouldn’t want us contacting our dealers,” I agreed.
“Speaking of.” She turned to face me. “Have you given any thought to how you’re going to handle that when you are released?”