The Valedictorian, page 14
“Sure, I guess we could,” said Arthur, feeling very relieved he wasn’t talking to the police.
The older man pointed to some plush-looking armchairs at the end of the hall. “We might as well be comfortable. Do you have to be anyplace soon?”
“The nurse” — Arthur corrected himself — “Gina, is going to give me a ride to the bus station. I need to get back to Toronto.”
“I thought you were studying here at the university.”
“I was, but I’ve made a mess of things.”
“I can certainly see how you would feel that way this morning. Arthur, I’ve been going through Linda’s accounts, and she’s been spending money faster than a drunken sailor for months. I’m not overly concerned about that. It’s all paid for by my company. The doctor says that this happens quite often in these cases. She’s on the mend. What I’m concerned about is you. Arthur, you were her student. She was in a professional relationship with you. It’s possible that criminal charges could be filed against her. Arthur, did Linda put you up to this?”
Arthur stared at him. “Put me up … what?”
“It’s an awkward question, I grant you, but I feel that as her father I need to, well — clean up this mess — but that’s not the right word, is it? What I need to do, and I hope it helps everyone involved, is bring this chapter of our lives to an end with as much dignity as possible.”
Arthur looked at him blankly.
“What do you need to get on with your life?”
Arthur thought about it for a minute. What he wanted was the wild excitement of that September night. That special feeling of being the sole focus of Linda’s attention. The hot sex, the roar of the cocaine as it blew reason and responsibility out of his life, as if he was a mere sheet of newsprint in a subway tunnel. That feeling of immortality and invincibility that he had experienced as hammer blows to his heart. The warm glow of the pot easing the jitters as they came down from the high and held each other in their arms. That was what he wanted. How in God’s name could he explain that to the man in the grey sports coat and dark blue trousers? A father, whose only goal was to sweep him out of his daughter’s life with a cheque book. Another trivial expense that he could charge to one of his companies.
Arthur sat in silence until his thoughts ran clear again. He knew what he had to do for the first time in days. “Mr. Dickens, I want to thank you for coming down here to make sure I’m all right. I want about a million things right now, but I can’t have any of them. I came to this town to become a doctor and I’m leaving in disgrace. So I’m just going to ask you for what I need. I think what I need is going to be the best thing for everyone. Could you lend me enough money to get a bus ticket back to Toronto?”
Dickens suspected that Arthur was still in shock. “I would be happy to do that, son. Before you go, could I ask you to do us one big favour? I had my lawyer draw up a paper saying that you agree not to pursue Linda or the university for damages. It would go a long way toward helping her get back on her feet and into her professional life.” He moved in and spoke in confidential tones: “The university knows what happened, and without this, they could never take a chance on her again. Can you do that for us? For Linda?”
Arthur smelled hush money, a big wad of it. He hesitated. Was the Linda he loved the Linda he’d known? Or the scarecrow waiting to have another bash at the straight life? He didn’t know, but he did know that it wasn’t his call to make. He signed. Let them take her off life support. He didn’t have the heart for it.
Six hours later, he was back in downtown Toronto. Same head, same heart, same hands, but the tragic lover was now reading from a different script. It was a desperately cold night. The wind was whipping off Lake Ontario, and Arthur was dressed for the fall, not the winter.
Arthur examined the change in his hand for the umpteenth time. No matter how often he counted it, it never became a larger sum. Dr. Dickens is a cheap prick. The guy owns a BMW M6 convertible that he never even drives, and he gives me a bus fare one way out of town and enough money, if I go for the deals, for dinner tonight at Harvey’s and breakfast tomorrow at McDonald’s.
Arthur sat in the waiting room in the bus station, staring at the coins in his hand. He’d put off thinking about his final destination all the way back to Toronto. The horrible choices kept spinning in front of his eyes as if he was watching a slot machine. What to do? He called his mom. Gerry answered the phone but was too messed up to talk with him and predictably handed the phone to Sally.
“Mom, it’s me. I’m okay.”
“We were worried. You left the detox. Where did you go?”
Eric’s words had been committed to memory. “I couldn’t stay there; I went for a walk to calm down and sort things out. I know what I want to do now. I’m going back to the detox to see if they’ll let me back in. If they won’t, can I come home tonight? I haven’t been using. You can tell that by looking at me.”
Sally was trying to do the right thing but lately she had been getting too much good advice. It was choking her. The pros all said that she had to let him feel the pain, but her heart couldn’t cash that cheque.
Before she could speak Arthur took control. “Mom, I know you’re struggling with this. So am I. I’m going back to the detox. I don’t think I could bear to be home tonight. If they let me back in, the problem is solved. If they won’t let me in, I’ll call you and let you know what’s happening.” Sally hung up the phone and screamed.
Chapter Nineteen
The people at Eddington made him stand outside and phone every half hour to check on availability. It was their farcical way of maintaining order. You couldn’t let addicts get away with anything. They saw compassion as opportunity.
After an hour of shifting from one foot to the other to stay warm, a street rescue van came by and offered him a ride to the homeless shelter. He declined that offer but took a hot chocolate and a sweet bun from them. The calories helped to fight the cold. They also gave him a pair of mitts and a wool hat. They made a big difference. Oh, where was the soft embrace of that scented September evening?
Any other night, Arthur would have been well advised to accept the ride to the shelter. But tonight was different. In the city-owned apartment building across the road from the detox, a Christmas party was running madly out of control. The strains of heavy metal music mixed with the sound of riotous good living and spilled into the street. The rounders at the Eddington got wind of the free drinks and that made the line to get in out of the cold move a lot faster. Arthur found himself back in the bubble after dinner time.
The skinny old guy was still passed out. He needed a shave when Arthur left, and today he needed someone to comb his beard. He was still passing gas and resting up for New Year’s Eve. The other bunk, previously occupied by Eric, was now full of an enormous South Asian man who was trying to shake himself to death. He was sweating and swatting bugs that only he could see. He kept looking at Arthur with his big yellow, bloodshot eyes, hoping for some kind of response, some kind of help or consolation. Arthur wanted nothing to do with him. He rolled over onto his bad hip so he wouldn’t have to look at the man. After about half an hour, the nurse came in and took the unfortunate man’s blood pressure. She frowned and they whisked him off to the hospital. Peace at last.
Dr. Dickens’ hush money didn’t smell quite so awful here in the bubble. I should have taken a little start-up money. He caught himself. No, don’t go there. That part of it is over. He kept saying that to himself, as a way of keeping his pain at bay. The lie didn’t work any better than the Tylenol #3s he had picked up at Linda’s and had smuggled into the detox to put out the fire burning in his hip. He had forgotten about the smell of this place the moment he left. It had stayed forgotten while he was lined up outside waiting to get back in. But the stink had jumped out of the cake once more. What awful combination of things has to happen before you smell the way these guys do?
This was nuts. Was he the only person on the planet who knew who Linda really was?
Dr. Irvin sure as hell didn’t know. Alice got paid to clean the house, not mind the mistress. She didn’t know. Neither did Gina. Linda’s whole family thought the real her was an aberration and a bit of an embarrassment. Linda had shown him, and maybe only him, her true self and in doing so had inadvertently liberated him. So why was she locked up in Kingston while he enjoyed the wind chimes here at the Eddington?
Eric had been promoted out of the bubble and into the stratified heights of the rooms. The staff had allowed him and some of the other young hopefuls to attend a Narcotics Anonymous meeting that met in a nearby church. Eric caught sight of Arthur in the bubble and waved to him as he and the other young Turks went rolling out the door. Arthur knew they would get a chance to talk at breakfast. He rolled over on his good side and drifted off to sleep.
____
Breakfast at the detox was a lively affair. The dining room resembled a family restaurant, albeit one with long oak tables all in a row. There was a living room behind the tables separated by a row of room dividers. It had couches and single chairs and even a radio that only the staff could turn on. It was a nice place to sit and visit after a meal. Half the guys who came down for breakfast were too sick to eat. They pawed at their plates. A lot of good stuff got left behind on the trays. The frequent flyers were determined to get as much of that picked over food into themselves as they could. They hung around like vultures when they had finished eating. They were broke, and this was how they stayed alive until the next cheque came. Then it would be millionaires’ week again. Arthur found that the trick was to keep your eyes on the food, which was actually quite good. The thing to avoid while eating was watching some poor old schizophrenic with false teeth spoon in the eggs. Arthur was hungry in so many ways this morning.
Eric grabbed the seat next to him. “You fucked up, Arturo.”
“No, I didn’t. I was a good boy. You would’ve been proud of me. Besides, now I have a sad story to tell waitresses for the rest of my life.”
“Well, my morning is pretty much free, as is my afternoon and evening, so I hope it’s a long story. Are you still going to treatment?”
“Everybody but me still has their heart set on it.”
“So why go?”
“It may be the quickest way out of this mess. Capiche?”
“Ah, my best student.”
Eric was making short work of his bacon and eggs.
“Eric, I can’t help but notice that you’re eating and enjoying it. Aren’t you supposed to be dope sick? I was expecting to see you push the tray away this morning. I had big eyes for your fruit cup.”
Eric looked around the room to see who was in earshot. “Well then you’re definitely smarter than the local Mounties. I got a little help from a friend.”
“In here?” said Arthur with an innocuous smile.
“Arturo, you really need to take notes when I’m lecturing. Remember I told you that you have to play ball? If I went cold turkey, I’d be sick for two weeks and everything would hurt like hell. So I asked for some help and they gave me a little something to ease my pain. But it also covers my tracks. So they throw in, and I throw in.”
“What did you bring to the party?”
“A dude here has some killer weed. It’s not quite a banquet, but it’s better than a snow cone. You want some?”
“No, I have to pass a piss test this afternoon.”
“Where?”
“That horrible place that we’re not going to talk about.”
“Why so quick? You just got here.”
“Carol in the office is a little annoyed with me and plenty annoyed with my mother calling. I think I’m getting some tough love here.”
Two hours later, Arthur heard his name over the loudspeaker. When he went to the desk to find out what they wanted, Carol gave him two bus tickets and a four-hour pass; a much better deal than he got in Kingston. But the intent of the donors was identical: Get out of here and stop being a problem for us. As he left the Eddington, he felt a moment of despair. The guys hanging around outside pushing and shoving and smoking frightened him. This neighbourhood was full of unwashed, dressed-out-of-the-rag-bag discards. No sports cars. No hot tubs. No Linda.
Is that all I get? A quick look behind the curtain and then off to a factory job for the rest of my life? How could what we had end up here? He spied an old woman in a wheelchair smoking a cigarette toothlessly, and he flashed back to the chapel. His body convulsed involuntarily.
Chapter Twenty
Arthur found himself, in short order, back in the interview room at Punanai. They gave him the same paperwork they had given him twice before. He answered the questions fully this time and in some detail. Greg was pleased with the improvement he saw on the written page. He watched Arthur move through the living room and then out through the double doors onto the smoking deck. He wasn’t using the cane anymore, but more than that had changed. Had the Eddington worked its intended magic on him?
It took a few minutes to score the test. When Greg was done, he invited Arthur and Reg back into the interview room. Both counsellors were in full regalia. Greg was wearing his best blue pinstripe, while Reg had on his three-piece with the bow tie. They resembled lawyers trooping into a courtroom and laying their case notes on the table. Greg took a moment to look at his young client, trying to see him as he was now and not how he had been the last time he was here. He noticed that Arthur had a death grip on the arm of his chair. “So Arthur, what brings you in to see us today?”
Arthur was taken by surprise. Surely it was painfully obvious why he was here.
Greg smiled. Mike Sage had taught all of his counsellors to start an interview with a question that everyone thought that they knew the answer to.
Arthur weighed the possibilities and started with something safe. “I’m in trouble at school.”
“Trouble?”
“I didn’t go to class.”
“Do you mean none, or did you miss so many that now you can’t do your papers?”
“I didn’t go to any.”
Greg smiled warmly at his young charge. This was a familiar theme. “So how did you spend your time?”
Arthur was wary. He looked back and forth between the two interrogators as he tried to make up his mind. Why was Reg sitting there? Why wasn’t he talking? They’re going to sandbag me if I’m not careful. They don’t need to know everything. “I met a woman at school, and she and I stayed high all term. She had kind of a breakdown and now she’s in hospital. Her family is taking care of her.” Reg made a note on his pad.
Greg didn’t take his eyes off Arthur. “Is that why you came home?”
Arthur looked pained, surely this part was self-evident too. “She didn’t get sick until after I left for Christmas break. I had to come home otherwise the jig was up.” It was safe to tell them what they already knew.
Reg finally piped up. “But you were going to hit them up for some more money.”
“Exactly.” In a perverse way, it was very satisfying to be able to own that. It felt very grown up.
Greg noticed that Arthur’s stranglehold on his armchair was relaxing. “What I’m interested in is your drug use. I had a hard look at your paperwork before you came in. Did you answer all the questions honestly?”
“Yeah.”
“I appreciate the fact that you’re laying all your cards on the table this time. I’m going to respond in kind and tell you what I’m struggling with. Arthur, you’re at the age when it’s the most difficult to diagnose addiction and alcoholism. People who are away at university often drink like alcoholics and take drugs like addicts. But there’s a difference. At university, people are away from their parents for the first time and they experiment.”
Arthur was listening. This gave Greg some real hope for the first time.
“What Reg and I are looking for are signs of addiction. Most of your classmates will get tired of the booze and drugs in about a year’s time. There’s a logic to these things. In elementary school, the big deal is cigarettes. In high school, you smoke pot. In university, you drink alcohol. These things are fads. They don’t become the centre of your world. Most people say, ‘Okay, that was fun, I enjoyed that, but I don’t see how I could do that every day. There’s so much more I want from life.’ They listen to that quiet voice calling them. They find that they want to explore their world, go to grad school, get married, or start a career. Do you see what I mean?”
He checked out Reg for a reaction. He was happy to remain silent, waiting and watching.
Greg soldiered on. “Two young men are drinking and using drugs at about the same rate. One of them is going to crash and burn, but the other one isn’t, and we can’t tell which is which simply by counting the empty beer bottles. How much they drink is not the issue, it’s how they feel about it. There’s an underlying force that drives the one fellow but not the other. Do you get my drift? Arthur, were you satisfying your curiosity about all this stuff or was something more sinister going on?”
Arthur sat up in his chair. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to turn to. I sure as hell can’t talk to my parents about what’s going on. The problem I have now is wondering if I can trust you. So let me put this right out there before I answer that. Does what I say stay in this room?”
Greg leaned into Arthur’s personal space. “We’ll say as little as we can get away with because we really do want to protect your privacy, but since the courts are going to be looking at your file closely, you might want to be a little circumspect.”
I knew it! All I have to do is start a sentence and they’ll finish it for me. They have their marching orders. They’re as bad as those nurses. They need me in a lab coat with a stethoscope around my neck.
A look of sly satisfaction crossed Arthur’s face, one that Greg misinterpreted for trust. “But before we start talking about other things, let’s get the addiction piece settled as best we can. Arthur, do you crave cocaine?”
