your staunch support, I’d probably spend my days alphabetizing my pantry and spice cabinet, color-coordinating my closets, and rearranging bric-a-brac and knickknacks in my display cabinets.
Acknowledgments
Sincere thanks to Dan Remington, Steve Balore, Susan Griffin and Jennifer Myers, whose willingness to talk about their former dependence on drugs and alcohol enabled me to better understand and describe the challenges faced by those coping with addiction. Thanks, too, to Emily Yost (Cognitive Behavioral Therapist), and Martin Wilson, PhD, for their insights into the mind and behavior of the addict.
Contents
RAIN SHEETED DOWN the grimy window and puddled on the blacktop, and a dozen identical buses lined up in angled parking slots.
Lillie watched as grim-faced passengers boarded, a few pulling wheeled suitcases, others hauling overstuffed backpacks. As they jockeyed for overhead bins, the scent of damp wool and denim filled the space. And, she realized, someone was eating a tuna sandwich. She hoped its owner would finish it soon, because inhaling the fishy odor wouldn’t make the four-hour trip any easier.
“Are you saving this seat for someone?”
Lillie’s gaze traveled from the man’s haggard face to his frayed sweatshirt and holey jeans. Something told her he hadn’t paid top dollar for the distressed look. The passengers waiting in line behind him seemed equally interested in her answer, so Lillie gathered up her jacket and purse.
“Don’t worry,” he said, settling in beside her. “I don’t bite.”
“That’s good to know.”
His right forefinger aimed at the straps of the backpack nestled in her lap. “I don’t steal either, so...”
She relaxed her grip, but only a bit.
“Going all the way to Florida?”
“No.” As the driver buckled himself in, she slid the backpack to the floor. “Only as far as Baltimore.”
“Ah. A surprise Mother’s Day visit, huh?”
Lillie nodded, watching the driver adjust his rearview mirror, fire up the motor and close the door. It had been dumb luck that she’d get home in time to celebrate the day with her mom. She’d missed the annual cookout last year, thanks to Rising Sun’s strict don’t-leave-the-grounds policy. And in all honesty, she hadn’t been fully present the year before that, thanks to—
“My mom moved to Orlando couple years back. That’s where I’m headed.”
Another nod. Perhaps her nonanswers would send a not interested in talking message.
But he said, “Don’t mind admitting, I’m not looking forward to it.”
Lillie knew the feeling.
“Because last time I saw her, I was falling-down drunk.” He winced, then hung his head. “I apologized. Promised I’d quit. But that look on her face...”
The look that said “I don’t believe you.” Lillie cringed, remembering it on her parents’ faces. Her siblings’. Worse yet, on Jase’s handsome face.
Her seatmate sighed in frustration. Or maybe it was regret.