EJ

Chapter 7: Dory

We were out running around the track - part of Eva's attempts to get me fitter.

"What do you think of this?" she remarked in a tone that was just a bit too casual, "I tell my mother about the Mouse."

That surprised me, "I don't understand."

"My mother gets just as hot under the collar as I do about this stuff. She'll easily track the bastard down from Mouse's name and Cathy, the friend. Then she'll go and see him, threaten him with exposure and scare the shit out of him; that's something my bitch mother is good at."

"She'll make him end the affair with Mouse and live in fear of going anywhere near other young girls. It's not perfect, I'd rather see the turd thrown in the dungeon, but . . ."

I interrupted, "If your Mum will do that, then I think it's the best. You've done good, mate."

I wanted to hug her, but kept jogging, wondering about the strange relationship between Eva and her mother.

A few more weeks went by. With more encouragement from Eva and I, Mouse seemed to be making an attempt to participate more. We noticed her hanging out with a couple of other girls.

But Eva had now picked up on something about our other roommate. From the outset, Dory had pretty much kept herself apart from everybody, just wandering around with her vacant looks.

However, over the past week, she had been going to the nursing station a lot and spending time curled up on her bed.

She responded to our concerned inquiries with, "I'm just feeling a bit sick."

Eva, in one of our frequent, quiet tête-à-têtes (while lying face to face on one of our beds) whispered, "I had my suspicions, and I think I might be right. Dory's got an addiction issue, probably some sort of pills. That's why she's always been so vague. I reckon she smuggled in enough pills - hidden on her person - to keep her going, but now she's run out and is suffering from withdrawal."

"Really, how do you know about this . . ." I stopped myself.

"Sheeze, what must you think of me. I will have to open up to you properly one of these days, my dear Jodie." She stroked my face, looking at me in a way I couldn't understand.

Open up . . . oh, God. I so much wanted to tell this girl the truth about myself. What was I to do?

Eva, bold and positive as always, said to our 'sick' roommate, "Exercise can help, Dory. Come along with Jodie and me."

She didn't want to come, but we got her changed into her sports clothes and virtually dragged her outside and got her into a gentle jog. When we stopped for a breather, Dory said, "You two know, don't you?"
"Eva twigged," I responded automatically.

"Can you help me. Have you got something, anything?"

We shook our heads.

"Come on, gym now." We had to drag her along again.

EJ (as people were starting to call us because we were always together) continued their good work for another week or two. Dory was coming out of it.

Normal, if I can put it that way, Dory was still a shy girl and was finding it difficult to integrate.