“We’re going to be talking about some options for Ada,” Duncan said, his gaze flicking to me. “She got off easy today, but if this happens again, she won’t be so lucky.”
“I’m failing to understand what options you could possibly have that I’ve not already exhausted,” I said.
“Maybe none, but it’s worth a shot to see,” Duncan said before turning to Ada. “You got somewhere to stay tonight?”
Ada looked to me, her eyebrows rising toward her hairline. I rubbed my eye with my heel and sighed. “Yeah, she can come stay with me, I guess.”
“Good,” Duncan said, giving us both a thumbs-up. “Micah, it’d be a good idea if you came too. I think there are some things you’d find . . . enlightening. I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”
“Wait,” Ada called, running toward Duncan. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I watched Duncan nod along while Ada pressed both her palms in front of her face like a prayer. In the end, they were smiling.
Duncan headed back to his car, raising his hand goodbye before getting inside. Ada stayed in her spot, watching Duncan’s car disappear in the distance.
“All right, let’s go,” I said, the numbness I felt inside reaching to my voice.
Ada didn’t speak as we drove back to my apartment. My head was screaming with questions, and if I wanted, I could’ve pried answers out of her through either desperate pleading or forceful insistence, but my usual determination to confront Ada had completely drained away today.
I flicked the radio to give my mind something else to latch onto. It worked for a little bit, until Casey McLean’s sweet soprano came through the speakers. It was Ada’s favorite song, the one I’d been determined to share with Nik at the music festival.
Ada’s bony fingers cupped over my hand, curling our fingers together. We hummed along while my heart stood between two places: with Ada and our battle against the pain that had woven into her aura, and the other with Nik as my newfound sorrow tainted the beautiful love we’d found.
NIK
Sports camps had already begun at the Collective, and there were kids of all ages running around and having the time of their lives. I was a bit jealous of their energy; I was dragging my ass around for the second day in a row from a night of stressful sleep.
But I came because Ada asked me to be here, and I wasn’t going to leave unless she wanted me to.
I found Duncan standing out the community garden, studying the new crop, as if somehow everything would grow if he willed it. The garden had grown a lot in the last six years. The first year I got clean I spent a lot of time in here, digging around in the dirt. It was like a helpful friend when I needed somewhere to go.
“Morning,” Duncan said, blinking over at me sleepily. He looked like he didn’t get a lot of rest either. “How long did you stay with Walt last night?”
I hung my arms over the fence and stared at the growing sunflowers. “Like, three hours. He complained about how bland the food was between crying about how he fucked everything up. By the time I left, he was asleep.”
Duncan hummed. “His sponsor’s been in touch with me. They’re talking about treatment plans. I told him that when the time comes, we’ll have a spot open for him.”
That was Duncan through and through. He always made space when people needed somewhere to go. He used to run himself into the ground doing that, but he learned over the years that if he didn’t take care of himself first, he’d be unable to be there for the people who needed it. Chance had a lot to do with that, and Duncan was a better boss and mentor because of it.
Micah could learn a thing or two about taking care of himself first.
I missed him. We hadn’t spoken to each other except through a couple awkward text messages. He was juggling a lot with Ada, and I knew he was stressed as fuck, but I still wanted to be there for him.
Duncan nudged me with his elbow. “I’m glad you came.”
“No problem,” I said, rubbing the toe of my shoe into the dirt. “Not entirely sure what I have to offer, but I’ll do my best.”
“I think Ada wanted someone she knew would be in her corner,” Duncan said, tilting his head toward me. “There’s a reason she called you.”
“You know, I’ve done hundreds of calls for Never Alone, and none of them made my blood pressure rise like that. But somewhere in the back of my head, I couldn’t get rid of the image of Micah finding out something bad happened . . .” I licked my lips, unable to finish.
“I know. Hopefully, she’s ready to make a change,” Duncan said, his voice soft. He nudged my arm and jerked his head toward the back entrance. “C’mon, it’s time to go inside.”
“Right,” I said, blowing out a long breath, and tried to ignore the knot in my throat as I followed him. Ada stood next to two people who must’ve been a part of the coordination team. She fidgeted as they spoke to her, from nerves or withdrawal, I wasn’t sure.
Probably both.
Micah rounded the corner, stood behind Ada, and rested his hand between her shoulders. Seeing him sent a burst of butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and I couldn’t decide what to do. A part of me wanted rush over and pull him in my arms, but I didn’t. This was about Ada.
When Ada saw me, she straightened, her eyes widened with surprise, likely because she didn’t expect me to show. She didn’t know that I’d been lucky enough that people were there for me when I was stuck in the hospital after I nearly died, so if Ada needed a friend, I could be that for her.
The coordinators and Micah looked to us, and we exchanged the usual polite introductions before they went on about what the meeting would be about. Micah didn’t talk, but he kept looking at me, his shoulders stiff, his mouth pulled tight.
He looked dead tired too, like he’d been up all night. Knowing him, he probably had been, worried he’d wake up in the morning and find his sister gone.
Eventually he looked away, then interrupted the conversation by asking in a firm tone, “Can we get started?”
The coordinators were used to dealing with family members who’d reached the ends of their ropes, so they complied, leading us to a meeting room upstairs. It was a bit of a tight fit for six people, but we managed to make it work. After the coordinators went through the usual rigmarole, they began to ask personal questions to Ada—how long had she been using? What was her drug of choice? How long had it been since she last used, and what was it?
Ada answered them numbly, staring a hole into the table. This part of the whole process was the fucking worst, and no matter how many times someone went through them, it was absolute hell.
“Why don’t we take a break?” Duncan said after the first set of questions. “There’s some snacks and drinks in the kitchen if y’all are interested.”
In the hallway, one of the coordinators said they were going to step outside for a smoke. Duncan ended up in a conversation with the other coordinator about the new hires at Sunrise.
I stood off to the side trying to be out of everyone’s way. Ada asked about where to find a bathroom and took two steps toward it before spinning around and saying to Micah, “Go for a walk. If we start the meeting again, I’ll let them know you’ll be back.”
Micah looked stupid enough to protest. Sensing Ada’s anxiety, I jumped in. “They ain’t gonna send her to detox without you getting to tell her goodbye, I promise.”
