For a couple of years Neea had been planning a trip to India. It was another place she'd dreamed of travelling since she was young. The people, the food, music, dance, artâit all appealed to her, and after practicing yoga for six years, she felt more drawn to the country than ever. On the trip she would meet yoga experts, study advanced techniques and learn more about the history of yoga. Last year she'd asked Traci to join her on the trip and, even though money was probably going to be an issue for her, Traci was excited to go. They researched online, made detailed plans and maps and were getting close to settling on a date.
And now Neea would have to cancel it.
With everything that had happened over the past few days, Neea knew there was only one thing to do: take the money she'd saved for India, as well as the vacation time she'd set aside from work, and dedicate it all to helping Darwin get her life together. Neea was certain it was the right thing to do, but she was worried that Traci might be disappointed.
"Neea, you're such a goddess!" Traci had said, sounding anything but disappointed.
They were having a glass of wine at the kitchen table. Neea had waited for the right time to break the bad news, but it was sounding like she shouldn't have worried.
"I'm so inspired by your compassion for this kid!" Traci went on. "India isn't going anywhere, babe, so don't you worry about that. This is what you need to do! This girl needs your help right now, so yeah, we should totally cancel the trip. Just tell me what I can do to help, OK? I mean it."
Neea was relieved but she started to wonder if Traci might have been having doubts about the trip all along and hadn't said anything. Traci wasn't well-travelled and a trip to India would have taken her way out of her comfort zone. Perhaps she'd never really committed to the idea but was just swept along by Neea's enthusiasm. Well, whatever the reason, she seemed to have Traci's support.
Unsurprisingly, Peter wasn't so easy. When Neea told him that she needed to take a month off to help Darwin, he complained that he didn't know where certain files were, didn't know how to use the computer program that managed the invoicing, might not be able to handle incoming phone calls with all of the paperwork he had to do, and on and on. She assured him that he was up to the task, that he'd figure things out and would be able to handle it. It was only a month. She'd be back before he knew it.
"Can't it wait a few weeks? Now really isn't a great time," he asked, barely concealing his panic.
Neea knew that now was as good a time as any as far as Peter's practice was concerned. The office was slow, with Ina Loach being one of Peter's only current clients. "No, Peter," she said, "this isn't the kind of thing that can be put on hold until it's convenient for you. I'm sorry, but it can't wait."
She gave Peter a few more tips on where to find things and what needed to be done, then left the office, smiling.
It had been a challenging week with Darwin, but Traci had kept her word, coming to the house frequently, covering for Neea when she had to go out, and being there to help when Darwin's moods turned dark or aggressive.
Teddy, on the other hand, was not much help. He clearly didn't want Darwin there and he frequently went out just so he wouldn't have to be around her. Neea knew he was still young and the situation was awkward and uncomfortable for himâthat was to be expectedâbut Neea was still a little disappointed that her son couldn't feel a bit more compassion for Darwin, especially with what had happened to Sienna. She hoped he'd eventually start to understand and maybe even sympathize with Darwin.
As Neea shopped for a few groceries, Peter called to ask where to find a certain file for the Loach trial. Then, while she was in the checkout line he called again to find out why the filing cabinet wouldn't open. The third and fourth times he called she didn't know why because she didn't answer.
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I'm all contradictions right now: hungry but I don't feel like eating, tired but feeling agitated, fine with being in this house but hating being cooped up, knowing these people are trying to help me but thinking they might secretly hate me and want me to be miserable, certain this is the right thing for me to be doing but wondering if I've made a horrible mistake, and hating meth and what it's done to me but really wanting more of it.
I also both believe and don't believe that I was addicted to meth. I really thought I could just stop but clearly it's more complicated than that. I still don't feel like the drug was controlling me, but I was obviously wrong to think that I was completely in control. These past few days have been roughâway worse than I expected. I don't really know what to think right now. I just need to get through this, get better, then try to make sense of it all.
Neea's friend Tall Traci is here standing guard while Neea's out doing some stuff. Quitting her job maybe, I don't know. The woman has obviously lost it. I'm pretty sure she means well and doesn't have any weird hidden agenda, but really, it's kinda crazy how much time and money she is committing to my well-being without really knowing a damn thing about me.
Traci isn't actually blocking the door or anything like that. She's just sitting across from me at the kitchen table reading a couple of old magazines that Neea kept. She's been reading parts of some articles to me. So far we've learned about the under-appreciated quince, how to make beautiful holiday decorations from stuff that you would normally throw away, and six ways to control slugs in the garden without resorting to harmful chemicals.
To be fair, I haven't been making it easy on Neea. In fact I've been pretty horrible. I have no patience at all right now, I'm depressed, and I'll snap at her and Traci for no reason at all. Given all that they're doing for me, I know that's all pretty shitty of me, but I just can't help myself. So much irritates me these days and it's so hard to predict what'll set me off.
Seaweed. Slugs don't like it, apparently. The salt or something.
"I'm home," Neea calls out cheerfully from the front door.
"How'd it go?" says Traci.
"Oh fine," says Neea. "Peter understood."
"Did he really?" asks Traci.
Neea laughs. "No, not exactly," she says, coming into the kitchen. "But he has no choice."
"Did he cry like a baby?" asks Traci, and they both laugh.
Traci gets up to use the loo, as she calls it. While she's out of the room Neea pulls a small paper bag from her purse. "I got you something," she says.
It's a small black notebook with a neat elastic ribbon attached that you wrap around the cover to hold it closed when you aren't using it.
"No lines," Neea says, "so you can draw in it, or write. Or both."
The pages are yellowish and have a nice feel to them. There are three pens tooâgood onesâone black, one blue and one red. Ballpoints. She knows what I like.
"You think this is better than drawing on my shoes?" I say.
"No, not better. Just different, and maybe more convenient. But you should still draw on your shoes!"
I might not be in the mood for hugs and smiles, but I have to say that was really nice.
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Teddy popped his head into the kitchen and said a quick hello to his mother and Darwin before running up the stairs to his room. He dumped his backpack, then swapped his collared plaid shirt for a black t-shirt and threw a soft flannel over it. He glanced at his phone, answered a couple of texts and ran back downstairs. Putting his jacket on, he called out, "Going over to Jello's!"
"OK, Ted! Will you eat some dinner there?" asked Neea.
"Mom, it's Jello's house. You know I will."
He jogged most of the six blocks to the Muscats' house and let himself in the side door. Coming into the kitchen he looked at Jello's mother and what she was stirring. "Mama T!" he said. "Is that my bigilla?"
Jello's mother, Tereza, laughed. "Your favourite!"
Teddy gave Mrs. Muscat a hug, then said "Hi Nana," and bent down to give Jello's grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "Look at you! So tall!" said Nana Guza looking up toward the top of Teddy's head.
Jello and Byron sat with Nana Guza at the kitchen table, but Teddy ignored them for now and instead went straight for a slice of crusty bread and a scoop of the bigilla, a bean dip with garlic, herbs and chillies, traditional comfort food from Malta. "So good!" he said and Mrs. Muscat smiled while she chopped fennel for a salad.
Nana Guza and Jello's mother both adored Teddy because he was always nice, polite and cheerful, but also because he was interested in good food and was helpful in the kitchen. Jello had often pointed out that that's a pretty quick way to a Maltese woman's heart.
Nana Guza said something in Maltese and Jello laughed loudly. Tereza said, "Nana thinks you'd make a good husband for Sofia."
Teddy laughed and shook his head. It was at least the fiftieth time Nana G had suggested this match-up with Jello's cousin. Teddy had met Sofia a few times and he knew the connection wasn't there and never would be.
"Might as well roll with it, dude. They're not gonna quit," said Jello. "It's just a matter of time before your big Maltese wedding."
"I'm fine with a Maltese girl," said Teddy. "Just maybe not your cousin."
"Actually Teddy's living with a cute girl now," said Jello.
"What's this?" said Tereza, looking over in alarm.
"Not really," said Teddy, shooting Jello a look. "There's a girl staying in our house for a while. Hopefully not long."
"Is she family?" asked Tereza.
"No... no, definitely not. She's um... she's kind of got some problems that my Mom's helping her with." Teddy really hoped Jello wouldn't blurt out anything about the drugs. He was pretty sure Mrs. Muscat and Nana Guza would be horrified. Mercifully, Jello changed the subject.
"Sofia can't marry Teddy anyway, Nana. She's got a boyfriend now, remember?"
Nana Guza shook her head. "No, no," she said with a dismissive wave. "That one has too many muscles."
Jello laughed. "Yeah, Teddy doesn't have that problem!"
"Hey," said Teddy flexing a skinny bicep. "I'm a god."
Movie night was a regular occurrence for Teddy, Jello and Byron. Originally they would rotate between their three houses, with the host choosing the movie for the night, and the host's parents providing some dinner. Then came the Dorchester, its arrival such a watershed moment in the lives of the three boys that it became the kind of event they used to mark the passing of time, like "Was that before or after the Dorchester?" for example, or, "This was a year or so before the Dorchester..."
Mahogany-brown, faux-leather home theatre seating for three with all the amenities, it was called "The Dorchester" in the furniture catalogue and the name stuck. It may have cost as much as a decent used car, but there were drink holders in the padded arms between the adjoined seats and hidden compartments that contained fold-away tables that flipped up and over your lap so you could eat, just like in an airline seat except way more comfortable. When you pushed back, the individual chairs reclined smoothly and silently and foot-rests magically rose up to let you stretch out in perfect, movie-viewing comfort. Jello's parents and his Uncle Joe were big into watching movies, and after they acquired this miraculous piece of furniture, movie night for Teddy, Jello and Byron never budged from Jello's house and the Dorchester.
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It's called "anhedonia".
The meth high gives you a dopamine spike, meaning it boosts the joy you feel from just about everything. Going off meth decreases your dopamine levels with a side-effect that it will also shut down a lot of the dopamine receptors in your brain. Less dopamine plus fewer ways to receive it equals little or no joy. The medical term for the state of being unable to experience pleasure is "anhedonia". It might sound like the name of a fantasy world, but it's real and it sucks. I learned that from one of Neea's library books, the books about how to fix me.
Neea and Tall Traci are sitting with me at the kitchen table and we're drinking herbal tea and having some Finnish almond cookies. Whenever Teddy is going to be out for the evening, Neea wants him to let her know in advance so she can get Traci to come over, so Teddy must have told Neea earlier in the day. Teddy hates having to do that, just like he hates everything else about having me here. Due to my issues, withdrawal or whatever, I can be a little angry and erratic and Neea just feels safer with her six-foot-tall friend here in case I turn into the drug-crazed monster I'm sure they're imagining. Having her bodyguard here doesn't exactly put me in an angelic mood though, so I'm not too sure the strategy is working.
Neea and Traci are trading boyfriend horror stories. Neea's are mostly about her boss, Peter, who she apparently dated at one time, and Traci's are about a few different guys, but particularly one named Ray who had a decent body, a really weird laugh, and was overall kind of an ass. It seems the main thing was the decent body though, and it sounds like it wasn't her choice to end it.
Finally I've had enough and get up to leave the kitchen. The two of them exchange looks like they're wondering if I'm OK, wondering if I'm going to start yelling, or if I'm about to bolt for the door and run off to score some meth or something. Really, I just want to go sit in the living room by myself. I grab the notebook and pens from the table. Maybe I'll write a nice diary entry about feeling like shit and hating everything.
"Sorry Darwin," Neea says. "Would you like to talk about something else?"
"Talk about whatever you want," I say. "Doesn't matter to me."
"Well, what would you like to do?" asks Traci, and I see what they're doing. They don't want me to leave the room. They want to keep an eye on me every second.
"Hey, don't worry about me. You guys have your boyfriend talk. I just don't have much to say about that, you know?"
Hey girls, let me share some fun stories about my mean, drugged-up, angry, anarchist boyfriend. That time he punched me right in the face? LOL...
"That's OK, Darwin. Do you want to go read or something?" Neea says.
I hate it when they do this. It's like they're saying "we're watching your every move so don't try anything," but they're saying it in the nicest way possible, which only makes it more irritating. Next thing I know I'm shouting.
"I don't know, OK?!" I yell. "Maybe I'll write in that notebook. Maybe I'll lie on the couch. Hell, maybe I'll do both at the same goddamn time! Why do I have to tell you where I am and what I'm fucking doing every second of the day?!"
They don't look particularly surprised. I guess they're getting used to my flip-outs. Being aware that this state of hyper-irritability and occasional paranoia is due to the effects of meth on my brain, a lack of dopamine, etc., doesn't make it any easier to not get pissed off. Why do they have to be so goddamn irritating? I stomp off into the living room and flop onto the couch.
Eventually, the conversation starts up again in the kitchen, but now sounds a little more hushed and cautious.
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As they nestled into the deep leather of their home theatre seats, plates of bigilla with bread and olives on their fold-out tables and tall glasses of iced tea in their cup holders, Jello asked Teddy how things were going with Darwin.
"Sucks," said Teddy. "She's a drug addict and she totally freaks sometimes cuz she's, like, in withdrawal or something. It's insane. Who's my Mom going to adopt next, a serial killer?"
"When do I get to see the sweet, young junkie again?" asked Jello. "Byronius hasn't even met her yet."
"Why do you think she's sweet? I keep telling you she's messed up!"
"He thinks she's a street-tough femme fatale," said Byron.
"Yeah, I think she's a street-tough femme fatale," said Jello, then turned to Byron saying, "Hey, you get out of my brain!"
"But what about that blonde girl from Safi's?" said Teddy. "What was her name?"
Teddy remembered her name, but he didn't want Jello to know that he remembered.
"Caylie," said Jello. "We did the coffee date and I guess that went okay cuz she texted me, like, twelve times today. She wants me. We're going out tomorrow night, probably back to Safi's."
"You're just trying to make Rhianne jealous," said Byron.
"Exactly," said Jello.
The night's movie was a film noir made in 1947 called Out of the Past. It was the movie where, according to Jello, "Robert Mitchum becomes Robert Mitchum." Plus it had Jane Greer, who they'd seen in The Prisoner of Zenda and who was, without a doubt, a smouldering hot old-time beauty. In that movie she played a fancy French courtesan, but in this one she was playing an actual street-tough femme fatale. The guys were all Mitchum fans but as the movie went on it was Jane Greer who was the centre of attention, particularly for Jello.
"Why don't they make women like that anymore?" he said, popping an olive into his mouth.
"Maybe they do," said Byron. "Maybe you just don't like women in colour. You need, like, black-and-white goggles. Then you'd think all women were hot."
"Nice theory, Einstein, but women still wouldn't look like that. Plus she looked amazing in The Prisoner of Zenda too. Remember? Colour? Look at her! Her hair, her eyes, her mouth..." Jello trailed off, apparently overcome with longing.
Miss Greer was indeed lustworthy in her immaculately tailored jacket and matching skirt. "Yer picture don't do ya justice, baby," Byron said, quoting a line from an earlier scene in the movie.
Jello turned to Teddy and said in an angry, feminine voice, "Why don't you break his head, Jeff!" Another memorable line. Just then Jello's Mom shouted down that the pasta was ready and they paused the movie to take empty plates up and bring full ones down.
The Dorchester was the height of comfort, Jane Greer was the picture of old-school sexiness, and Robert Mitchum was the personification of cool. Another perfect movie night.
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Neea comes into the living room saying something and I realize I've nodded off with my notebook lying open on my chest. I sit up a little, wondering what's going on, then puzzle out that she's letting me know Traci's boyfriend Donnie is here to pick her up.
This is a regular ritual now on these nights when Teddy is out, where Traci, who is supposedly here on a social visit but actually is here to help out in case I decide to go berserk, is heading home for the night. The ritual involves Neea politely informing me of this but secretly asking me if I'd mind very much not doing anymore berserking for the remainder of the evening because her backup wouldn't be there to help. For my part of the ritual I say "OK" in a hesitant way that suggests I'll do my best but can't guarantee anything.
I'm guessing Teddy will actually come home at some point so she really doesn't have that much to worry about. I'm not going to turn homicidal and yeah, I'm pretty sure I can keep myself from going ballistic again tonight. I actually feel a little bad about yelling earlier.
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â D.B.