Rehab

Expectations

He was nothing like she expected. She knew how old he was, but in the flesh he seemed more youthful, not only because of his looks but also because of his demeanor. She had heard of him, in the circles where she moved but she never really met him. Not meet meet, but she passed him by alright, one time too many in her opinion.

She chose this café to meet him. He initiated the meeting through her friends though Lord knows how he came to know her friends. Her social orbit was definitely far from the center in which he revolved.

He shook her hand and smiled his killer smile. It was a good start to a great evening. They never could run out of things to say, to talk about and he said he’d call her in the morning after he brought her to her doorstep.

A few more dates followed the first one, but she was afraid she was underwhelmed. He bored her, he was too perfect. He said all the right things, was witty in the right places and was too damned decorous for her tastes.

She blew him off one night to go out with a guy who’s been bugging her to give him a chance. He took her to a marijuana party. She’s never done drugs before that night and the guy kept insisting it wasn’t technically a drug, it was a weed, doesn’t she get it?

She liked the feeling of being stoned, so she went out with the guy a few more times and before she knew it she was doing crystal meth.

At first she told herself, it was okay, she has a grip on the situation. She wasn’t an addict; she could still get out if she wanted. But it soon got out of hand. She lost her job and blew her chance to become the youngest vice president in the PR agency for which she worked. Her Mom kicked her out of the house for stealing money and valuables from her and bringing undesirables to wreak mayhem under her roof.

One night, she was out on the street, the rain pouring in buckets and she hadn’t eaten for days. She remembered to call her Dad, the one whom she did not know much of because it was what her Mom wanted. She couldn’t recall his number so she called her Aunt Marge for the number. Her Aunt Marge asked her where she was and what she was doing out so late at night. She said she was at the police station trying to scrape a phone call. Her Aunt Marge asked what happened and she told her Aunt Marge everything that has happened in the last two years.

Her Aunt Marge, her Mom’s sister, was flabbergasted. “I thought you were doing really well,” she said, her voice tinged with shock. “Anyway, just stay put. I’ll come for you. I don’t know where I put your Dad’s number. I’ll look for it as soon as I get you someplace safe.”

True to her word, Aunt Marge came by the police station and took her to a rehabilitation center south of the city. She made sure her niece was settled and all the paperwork was taken care of before she left for her place 30 minutes away.

Life in rehab was no picnic. It was arduous, but the staff knew their shit. There was no getting around them and she appreciated this opportunity to get rid of her bad habits once and for all.

In her third month, her Dad came to visit, along with Aunt Marge. Her Mom washed her hands clean of her.

“I’m sure this isn’t how you expected our reunion, but I’ll take what I can,” her Dad smiled wryly. “What happened sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, Dad. One moment my life was going great, the next I was spinning out of control.”

“How did you get into drugs? I wish I was there when it was happening, maybe I could have done something.”

“It started with marijuana, and I liked how it felt. Then it became a habit I couldn’t control,” she said. “I wish you were there too. I wish I talked to you so I wouldn’t have done all those stupid things.”

“It’s alright, as long as you want to change, that’s all that matters,” her Dad reassured her.

“But I am afraid, they say once an addict always an addict.”

“That’s crap and you know it. You’re my daughter. I’ll help you stay sober. And you can if you want to. Remember, it’s always up to you.”

She felt good after that first dialogue with her family. In the ones that followed, she got to know her Dad even more and she came to a point when she was almost glad she had an addiction problem to kick. It brought her close to the man she always sought in her life, in the many boyfriends and lovers that she had. She came away from the experience knowing that she found what it was she was looking for—the love of the man who was missing from her life.

After a year and a half, she checked out of rehab clean and sober. She stayed away from her old drugging crowd and sought out her college friends, the ones who tried to help her as she descended on her downward spiral.

She got a job with another PR firm, thanks to her Dad pulling a few strings. In a year she made vice president, the youngest in the firm’s history.

As she looked back on the nightmarish two years when she was drugging, she realized she did not want to go back to that kind of life. And that she had too much of everything and did not know how to put her life in perspective.

These days she blows her money on treating her friends to dinners in nice restaurants and shopping trips to Singapore, and travel to the beach.

One day she was having coffee at her favorite café when a voice intruded on her thoughts.

“You disappeared,” he accused, smiling.

It was him, Mr. Prim and Proper.

“Gosh, it’s a long story. Wanna hear it?” she said.

For some reason, she felt comfortable sharing with him what she went through in the past five years and she told him about her life then and how her Dad became her salvation.

“You bored me, you know. It’s all your fault, if you weren’t so proper I wouldn’t have gone out with the guy who got me into the rabbit hole,” she joked.

“Oh did I? Well, I was going to tell you I dirt bike in the open road and build homes for the poor in my spare time. But you cancelled on me,” he laughed with her.

“Okay, so I admit. The fault is mine. So what else kind of daredevil things do you do?”

He told her and he told her that he surprised even himself for not making a move on her those times they went out. He said, she intimidated him, as if one false move would be his undoing. He was glad, though, he said, that things happened the way they did.

“You were too perfect. I couldn’t see a sign you were human,” he observed.

“I could say the same of you,” she retorted. “So, it’s okay that I’m a former junkie?”

“As long as you stay a former junkie,” he was honest.

Then, “It’s getting late. I’ve to call my Dad. Gotta go,” she gathered her things.

“Will there be a next time?”

“Sure. And next time, grab me,” she walked away with a wink.

He certainly did.