“Tomorrow is going to be busy as hell because we’re doing a new hire training, but I can call you afterward. Maybe we can hang,” Nik said with hope in his tone, like he was wanted desperately to alleviate the awkwardness that had settled between us.
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” I said, suddenly feeling very, very tired.
Discomfort still buzzed under my skin, a sudden jolt of anxiety that I couldn’t stave off. As I scrambled to find something to say, Nik curled his finger under my chin and leaned to give me a light kiss, wishing me goodnight.
I watched him get out of my car and toward his house. I wanted to look at his face one more time before I headed home, and I held on to see if he’d turn back to me.
I waited as he walked up the stairs to his porch, fiddled with the front door, and stepped inside. He never turned around.
NIK
On Monday, I walked into work damn near exhausted after a night of tossing and turning from panic dreams I couldn’t remember. I’d already drunk two large cups of coffee and was still running on empty. It was impressive I drove to work without wrecking my car. Small wins.
Duncan wasn’t in the office yet because he was visiting Chance at his new workshop on the other side of town. It meant that Chance wouldn’t be helping out with the hiring process, and that meant I needed to get my ass in gear and figure out if I still wanted to bow out of it or not.
It’d be a bad idea to talk about career choices when I was falling asleep standing up, though. I got a fresh pot of coffee going and began looking over the new trainees coming in for the orientation taking place today. They’d be showing up in a couple of hours, and they deserved to have a good first day.
The office door opened, and Duncan stepped inside without saying hello, immediately making a beeline to the coffee. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, and unkempt five-o’clock shadow, he wasn’t doing much better than I was. He didn’t even bother to put sugar in it, which was a big deal. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night either.
“Rough morning?” I asked, watching him down half a cup before going back to refill it.
“Yeah,” Duncan said, pressing the warm mug against his breastbone. “Walter’s been placed in the psych ward on suicide watch.” I sat up straight in my chair, and a chill ran down my spine, sweat beading at the base. Suddenly, my mouth felt like it’d been stuffed with cotton, making it impossible to speak for a a long time.
Duncan noticed my alarm and raised a hand to me before sitting down in his chair. “He’s stabilized, but he has to spend a few days there. It won’t be fun because psych wards never are, but he’s spoken to his sponsor and parole officer, and they’re working with him to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
I watched as he downed half a cup and refilled it without a look my way. The last time Duncan acted like this was when an employee ended up in the hospital from OD’ing.
“How’d this all go down?” I asked, my gaze following Duncan to his chair, where he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees.
“Last night, I got a phone call from Walt’s sponsor saying that he’s been checked into the hospital for potential suicide watch,” he said, voice hoarse like he’d been screaming. “He’d made several erratic phone calls to his family, who contacted his parole officer. I’m not entirely sure of the details, but I got to speak to him on the phone. Like I said, he’s stabilized for now, but he’s got a rough few days ahead of him.”
I was very, very grateful that I was also sitting down because the gush of guilt pounded against my rib cage. “I’d just spoken to him. He was drinking, and I tried to meet up with him, but he hung up, and I didn’t call him back. Fuck, why didn’t I call him back?”
Duncan lifted a reassuring hand. It was obvious he could see I was buggin’. “Nik, you are not responsible for Walt’s choices. Even if you did try to reach out to him, the probability of him listening to you—hell, even wanting to talk to you—was slim to none. Especially when he’s spiraling.”
“Fucking hell,” I said, covering my face and shaking my head. First Micah, and now this. I knocked my head against the back of my chair. “Fuck.”
“I’ve asked Chance to come in to help with orientation today because I may need to leave with little notice,” Duncan said.
It made sense. Duncan was Walt’s employer. Whatever BS landed him in the hospital meant that his job was on the line, especially if he needed to get back into rehab. I was pretty useless with all of this and didn’t bother to fight him about it.
“Well, since I ain’t doing the orientation, I’ll head to the back and get some stuff done.”
God. Suicide watch. My experience with psych wards was purely secondhand accounts from Chance and other people in support groups. I’d never ended up in one, but I knew they were far from paradise.
I rubbed my fingers together, my palm scrubbing along my arm as I tried to get the balls to ask something that’d been on my mind since I found out about Walt being in the hospital.
“Will we be able to visit him?” I asked, refusing to look at Duncan because if I did, then I knew I’d probably end up losing my shit.
“I’ll chat with his sponsor and see if they’re allowing visitors,” Duncan said, picking up his phone and tapping away a text.
“Vibes,” I said and got up from the chair, grabbing my stuff. This could be the last time I’d speak to Walt, unless he reached out. He could walk away from the hospital, and we might never see him again.
It was hard not to think about all the worst-case scenarios, from arrest all the way to finding his lifeless body in some fucking alleyway. God, what if someone found him tucked away in the shopping center people hung out at after closing hours, strung out of his mind?
When I got to the door, I stopped and stared at the metal knob, blinking away the burn in my eyes and the sudden tightness in my throat. “A few weeks ago, I described sobriety as being boring, but it’s not. It makes the struggle of the world so much more obvious. So many people sufferin’ and no guarantee they’ll ever get clean. This shit isn’t boring. It’s damn lonely.”
I left before Duncan could say anything else. I knew he’d try to do some of his mentor talk, but I wasn’t feeling it. The shift went along without a hitch, and the crew carried on with their usual bullshitting. It didn’t feel the same without Walt.
When my phone started vibrating in my pocket, I pulled it out, not recognizing the number. Knowing it could be Walt, I answered it.
“Hey, Nik? Fuck, I really hope I called the right number. Are you Nik?”
This wasn’t Walt. It was Ada.
I could hear some yelling in the background, the phone fumbling from something going down. I rushed out through the delivery entrance, poking my finger in my ear.
“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”
“I need you to come get me. There are cops outside the house, and I’m fucking screwed,” Ada said in a rush. She sounded scared, but the way she was talking, I could tell she was on something. “I need you to come find me. But don’t tell Micah, okay?”
The panic settled in. My head spun with a million questions. Who was she with? Was she okay? What was she on? Did she have any gear on her? I wished I had more time. “Okay, just tell me where you are.”
Ada started yelling at someone, but her voice was muffled, like she was hiding the phone. I heard a door slam, and when she got back on the line, she sounded out of breath. “I’m at someone’s house. Fuck, I should’ve stayed back at the apartment. I know we’re near the corner store that’s close by the bridge. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
I knew exactly what she was talking about. My legs felt weak at the thought of having to go back to that fucking place, but I knew Ada called me because she felt like she had no one else.
