Old Money Madness

25. She Said it, Twice!

"River please have a seat." 

Another meeting with some self-help consular. I've had tons of these already and I've been here for weeks. Every day is the same. 

A loud horn wakes us up at Eight am, we eat some stale cereal, then go outside for a morning walk. Usually, sometime in the morning, someone has a bad withdrawal episode and we all have to have another circle talk about not backsliding and knowing your purpose. 

After that, we get some chicken broth and old sour bread. Then we do some type of art expression to showcase our feelings. Yesterday we did paintings, today it was interpretive dance. After that, we had one on one talks with our self-help coaches. Then after that, we get to check our mail or if we're lucky make a phone call to a loved one. 

Expect for me. Apparently for my full 'recovery and benefit', I can't talk to Dox. Haven't heard his voice in a long while. 

I'm not like the other people here. Relapsing from drugs or alcohol is not a reasonable fear of mine, what I fear is breaking down again without Dox. I've only been able to hold on this far because I keep replaying his words in my mind, but each day his voice is getting a little quieter. 

"Fuck you." I spit out. Looks like I'm having a relapse moment right now. "I want Dox." I kicked the chair and started pacing. 

"But you're doing so good River. You have never once shown any desire to go back to cutting, drinking, or smoking. You are the only one that's never shown any trouble trying to get better, with no resistance, outside of the transitional week. But with your reason for being here, I'm not accounting that into the recovery." 

"Great-fucking-doodly-doo. Where's my prize?" 

"You're starting to get aggressive. Do you think that talking about all the progress you have made actually started this relapse?" 

"No! What started this was you telling me that I'm doing so well, but I'm the only person here that doesn't get to make a phone call home." 

"Part of the reason you're here is that you are too dependent on, Doxy, as you've called him before." 

"That's because I fucking love him, you heartless bastard! What is really pissing me off right now is that you are hearing it before him." 

"River, can we please talk about your progress?" 

"Why?" I huffed sitting down in the chair. "What are you going to tell me now?" 

"I want you to tell me one of the toxic sentences you used to say to yourself." 

"She's got daddy issues so you know at least she's a good fuck." I spoke blankly bouncing my leg. 

"Do you still think of yourself in that way?" 

"No," I whispered. "I think of myself as someone who had a lot of shit go wrong in their life. Someone who was lucky enough to find someone that loved them through it all. I think of myself as someone who doesn't need warmth from vodka or the smell of smoke to bring them into the eye of the storm. I see myself as someone who finally got out of the dark." 

"Excellent." 

"What now? Should I start practicing my dance for the showcase tomorrow?" 

"You're going home. You may never be truly whole and perfect, but at least your head and heart have cleared up a bit." He stood from the chair and looked at the phone on the wall. "Should I call him or should you?" 

I jumped up from the chair and ran to the wall. When taking the phone off the wall I almost threw it. I barely remember even typing in his number before the not-so-familiar buzz started to sound.