Such A Beautiful Disaster

Part 6

Work was an absolute horror. Ryan's loud mouth drove me crazy all day. The heat from the fryers and  ovens was suffocating. My headache came and went at regular intervals. I kept watching the clock hoping more time had gone by than it actually had. I was willing myself to wait until one o'clock to take a pill. But when Ryan made some sarcastic comment, nothing out of the usual that wouldn't have normally fazed me, and I almost took his head off, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. I asked Lynn if I could take a cigarette break, went in my bag, got the goods, and went in the bathroom. I already felt a lot calmer just crushing up the pill, knowing that everything would be okay as soon as the powder was up my nose and the drug in my veins. And it was. Ten minutes I was back to normal, or what had become the norm for me: high and leveled out. I apologized to Ryan, blaming my outburst on my "hangover." He laughed and just shrugged it off. Told me that he'd been there plenty of times before.

I took my twenty minute lunch break around three o'clock, That way when it was over I'd only have 40 more minutes of work to get through. Usually Lynn or Terri had to force to me to take it. I just don't like to sit still when I know there's something I could be doing. Even though I was far from hungry and just the thought of eating made me want to vomit, I forced myself to grab a slice of white pizza and a gatorade. I went in the storage room and set the pizza down on a shelf. I decided to use the time to check my missed messages and calls. Three text messages, one call, and a voicemail were from RC making sure I was okay and telling me to call him to give him the details on that guy I had been scoping. Urgh. I didn't even want to think about Ben. Two text messages and a call were from Jack who was wondering if I was still at the square and did I want to meet up. Two text messages were from my other best friend Danielle, who moved four states away when we were fifteen. We stayed as close as ever which was why I felt guilty when I read her messages: "Hey you. I haven't talked to you in a minute. You're not keeping up with my messages or calls like usual. You better not be up to your old bad habits again or I'm going to have to fly all the way up there just to kick your ass." and "Seriously though. I love you, stay safe, and call me ASAP."

The last call and voicemail was the worst. It was my counselor, Julie, calling to tell me I had missed our outpatient appointment yesterday. She informed me that if I didn't call her by the end of the day today she would call the judge and let him know, and then I would be going to jail. She ended her voicemail by saying "By the way, I was wondering if you also forgot you have court next Friday, as you seem to have trouble remembering appointments. I suggest you come in to see me before then or else things aren't going to end up too well for you." I didn't intentionally skip counseling yesterday. I really just forgot which was a bad sign. I would have forgot about court too. When the thought of what could happen at court came to mind I wanted to cry.

A year and a half ago I got a DWI. I was also under the influence, but the police never did any testing to prove I was on anything else. When I went to criminal court they did this drug and alcohol evaluation. I should have just lied and told them I didn't normally use drugs or alcohol. Unfortunately I gave them my whole sordid history and they put me into Drug Court. It was kind of like probation. You had to appear once a month to show the judge how you were being a productive member of society and you were also mandated into counseling, where you were drug tested and/or made to attend 12-step meetings. This is why in the past year and a half I've also been to two rehabs and three outpatient programs. I do good for a while, then I start skipping meetings and just have one of my friends forge a signature on the slip I'm supposed to hand in. Then I start skipping appointments. Sooner than later I'm so far gone that I don't care if my drug tests come back positive and I'm right back to rehab.

I wish I would have just lied on that evaluation. Maybe I would have just ended up with a million community service hours instead of Drug Court. Or maybe I would have done some time in jail. Who knows. However, most times Drug Court seemed way worse than actually doing time in jail. But now that I was basically on my last strike since I had already been mandated into rehab twice, if I screwed up again, like having a positive drug test or being reported as noncompliant with treatment, the judge wasn't even going to bother with another rehab. No, he was going to go back to my original charge of the DWI and sentence me with the maximum amount of jail time.

So I had court in a week. Today was Friday, so if I had to call Julie back today I still wouldn't have to go see her until next week. I could manage that. I dialed her number and took some deep breaths as it rang. Even so, when she picked up and I heard her voice my heart started beating spastically.

"Hi, Julie. It's Molly. I'm calling about your message." I heard her let out a long sigh.

"Molly, do you want to go to jail? Is that what you really want? Because that's how you make it appear." Julie always had such a lovely way to greet a person.

"No!" I said, getting heated. I had a love/hate relationship with Julie. She firmly believed in tough love and being brutally honest. She had helped me through a lot of stuff in the past but it was also aggravating when she saw right through me and called me out on my shit.

"Then why do you keep missing your appointments? You know the consequences of your actions, right?"

"Yes," I replied sullenly.

"Then I highly suggest you show up for the appointment I rescheduled for you on Wednesday at one o'clock. If you don't, I'll be there at court on Friday. And if you don't show up for that either the judge will issue a warrant for your arrest. Then you will go to jail. No ifs, ands, or buts. Do you understand?" That's just one example of her tough love right there.

"Yes," I told her.

"Okay then. Have a good weekend," she told me.

"You too," I responded. Then Julie hung up.

I wanted to cry. Tears were forming at the corner of my eyes and I did everything in my power to not let them fall. I sat there for a few minutes, deeply inhaling and exhaling, trying to calm down. I looked at the clock. I had five minutes left of my break. I got up, threw my pizza in the trash, then went into the bathroom where I sniffed half a pill up my nose. I was finally past the point of caring anymore.