Jamie's Tale

Rehab Aftermath: How to Maintain Drug-Free?

I scoff and clench the pamphlet in my fist, feeling the sharp edges poke my palm. I close my eyes. Just a few more minutes until I’m out of here. My body longs for something to relax, to escape. I shove the thought out of my head. That thought is exactly what lead me to drugs. It was just my luck that the day I’m being driven to a sober living group home, there is traffic. I fight the urge to cringe at the car horns blasting on my left and the motorcycles whizzing by on my right. 

I feel the abrupt change from the smooth road to a pebbled one, and I discreetly grip the seat. The van reaches a stop just as my stomach starts to churn. 

“Alright, we’re here,” The driver’s airy tone rings out through the van. My shoulders relax for the first time since entering the vehicle. I pull the door handle as quickly as possible and hop out, stumbling a bit on the rocky ground before righting myself. 

“Aye buddy, you alright there?” A heavy hand slaps my back. I give a shallow nod and upright myself. The van doors slide shut, and the five other guys that were in the vehicle start to walk towards the large yet quaint house.

“Hello, welcome to Sunny Hills Recovery Home, I will be taking care of your room assignments,” The lady at the front desk says.

“I need you all to get into a single-file line.” I end up at the very end of the line. A man named Simon leads each person to their room one by one after being checked in.

“Name please?” The brown-skinned woman with tight curls says when I finally reach her desk. Her brown eyes, emphasized by her clear glasses, stay focused on the screen in front of her. 

“Reynolds,” I give her my last name.

“Jamie?” She asks.

“Yes.”

Her fingertips run across her keyboard, pausing and starting again. She grabs a key that is attached to a faded gray lanyard. She peers to her right.

“Simon must still be escorting the other person to their room,” She murmurs. “Since you’re the last person, I’ll just show you to yours,” She says before standing abruptly, and the chair scrapes against the hardwood floor. 

“Please follow me.”

She leads me up a flight of steps to the third floor. She takes the key on the lanyard and sticks it into the door with a click. There lies a beige full-sized bed with crisp white linens, a desk, and a dresser.

“Notice that there are rules printed out for you on the door,” She points to the back of the door facing the inside of my room. 

Pass daily room checks

No drugs, alcohol, or any other substances allowed

Must attend all recovery meetings

“Just so you know the recovery meetings are with a therapist stationed two miles away from here in the next town over. We will be driving everyone –”

“I’ll walk,” I interrupt.

“But–”

“I’ll walk,” I insist.

DAY 3 

“Are you ready?” Jessica asks as she stands awkwardly in the doorway of my room. I furrow my brows.

“You don’t think you’re walking alone, do ya?” She snorts. 

“Whatever,” I mumble, grabbing my lanyard and putting it around my neck.

We walk across the pebbled road, squinting at the beaming sun. She leads the way. Her sepia skin sheens with a thin layer of sweat. Our breaths are ragged and our mouths feel as though they are withering away from dehydration, but we push onward.

In the next town over, there is an array of small shops, but I find myself stopping at the sight of Botanical Sights. I peer through the window in awe at the sight of the beautiful greenery and the colorful flowers. 

“You like that?” She asks. I clear my throat.

“Uh…yeah.”

DAY 5

“C’mon,” Jessica says. I look at the clock in my bedroom.

“It’s 30 minutes before we are supposed to leave,” I reply. She gives me an exasperated look.

“Let’s go.”

In the next town over, she stops at Botanical Sights. A small yet genuine smile lights my face as we walk in. 

“Oh, this is so pretty,” Jessica murmurs, looking at the cluster of orange flowers.

“Asclepias tuberosa,” I say without thinking. She whips her head over to me and her mouth falls open. “I mean Butterfly Weed.” 

“How do you know that?”

“I studied botany in college.”

 DAY 7

“What are these?” She strokes the vivid vermillion flowers. 

“Cardinal Flowers,” I say. She hums in response before looking at me hesitantly.

“So, how does a botanist like yourself end up in a place like Sunny Hills?” I look straight ahead.

“I was tired of being in pain all the time, and drugs took them away for a little bit.” A sad, shuttered look appears in her expressive eyes, and a grimace pulls at her face.

“You couldn’t tell your family about it, someone close to you?”

“They’re all gone. Car accident.”

DAY 10

“Those are rose mallows,” I reveal before she even has a chance to ask. 

“So, did you always plan on working in a house with addicts?” I ask. She gives me a pointed look and uses a finger to adjust her glasses. 

“No, I’m interested in art,” She says with a sheepish grin. “However, Sunny Hills pays extremely well, and my father has ALS.” I feel a lump forming in my throat.

“ALS?” I manage to stutter out.

“Y…Yeah, it’s a neurodegenerative disease. Essentially his muscles lack proper nutrients which cause them to atrophy.” She says, her eyes travel to the floor. 

“It’s in the earlier stages,” She said. Her eyes clench shut. “But there’s no cure. However, he’s now unable to work and needs health benefits.” 

DAY 12

“I thought you told me all your family was gone,” Jessica says in a small voice in front of my doorway.

“They are,” I say with in a confused tone. She shakes her head before handing me a thick manila envelope. My name is on the front, but there is no address or sender present. I carefully peel it open before sticking my hand inside it. 

I run my hands over a smooth texture before pulling out a plain black Moleskine notebook. I look at Jessica questionably. She shrugs.

“A man left it downstairs. He seemed to be in a rush. He kinda favored you.” She eyes the package. I lay the envelope down and finger the front of the book. Upon further inspection, I see a piece of paper sticking out from the book. I open the book to the bookmarked page. I hold the rectangular piece of paper up and I stare.

“Jamie?” Jessica asks. “Jamie, what is it?” She comes to stand behind me to get a peek at the paper.

“Woah.” 

DAY 15

“So what are you going to do with the money?” She asks, fingering a lilac Bergamot flower. I shrug. I think of the $20,000 check left in my name along with the note telling me that I have an estranged uncle. Mom and dad never talked about him before. Use this money to save someone even if that someone is you is what he wrote. I sigh.

“I don’t know.” 

DAY 16

“Hey man,” A beer-bellied guy comes up to me. He holds his fist out and I bump it. He pulls me in. I feel a small baggy in my hands.

“Paul scored some nutmeg from the kitchen,” He whispers. “You can get a high from it.” He pats my back one more time and leaves. I clench the thick package in my hands. Footsteps coming my way cause me to stuff it deep in my jean pocket.

“You ready?” Jessica says with a smile on her face.

“Yep.” We start walking to Botanical Sights.

“You’re already on day 16,” She says excitedly. I chuckle, feeling light for the first time in a long time.

“I’m proud of you,” The nutmeg in my pocket suddenly feels like it weighs a ton.

DAY 17

I feel the nutmeg staring back at me from inside my middle drawer in the pocket of one of my jeans. My cravings have been minimal to none, but now that I have something in my room, it’s all I can think about. Rehab was extremely strict. The sober house was a bit more lenient, not by much, but still. I take out a piece of paper and start drawing some Turk's cap lilies. I feel another wave of temptation wash over me.

I bounce in my seat before going over to the drawer. I open the drawer before closing it. I think of Jessica. I’m proud of you. But when I close my eyes, I see my empathetic mother, outgoing sister, and stern father. They’re gone, and I feel guilty for surviving. I yank the drawer open and pull out the jeans. I shove my hand in the pockets and pull out the small baggy of nutmeg.

I pour the contents of the baggy on my desk. I snort it despite all the progress I’d made in the last few months and the burning sensation. After snorting the entire small baggy, I sit back and stare at it with watery eyes. I squirm in my seat as the guilt eats at me even though I feel nothing. I spend another hour drawing but am interrupted by a sudden wave of nausea. My stomach lurches uncontrollably. I make a run for the bathroom, but I only make it to the hallway outside my door before collapsing on the floor.

I feel my body start to convulse while I lay on my back, vomit spews out my mouth. Fear overtakes my body, and it startles me. I had always wanted to escape, but knowing that my end could be near makes me realize that I never wanted to die. I just want to stop living the way I’m living. Vague yells sound off behind me, but I can’t seem to focus on them no matter how hard I try. I try to focus on breathing, but I can’t.

DAY 20

Jessica

I clutch the black book with a $20,000 check in my hands that Jaime’s uncle refused to take back. It’s the only thing that reminds me that he once existed. I thumb a yellow flower, but there’s no one to tell me what kind of flower it is, and it makes me sick. Every time I close my eyes, I see the fear in his eyes while he was seizing. He wanted to be here, and the thought of it causes multiple nights of unrest for me. I clench my eyes shut before going up to the counter.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” The perky woman behind the counter asks me. “I see you all the time. Where’s your friend?” Tears brim in my eyes, but I somehow hold them back.

“Can I just have a pack of seeds for red cardinals, butterfly weeds, bergamot, and rose mallows?”

“Yeah sure.” She quickly rings them up. I enter my Toyota and drive to my house. I go into the shed and pull out the mulch as well as a shovel.

DAY 34

“Oh, thank you for the donation!” The elderly owner of Botanical Sights says.

“Don’t thank me. It was from Jamie,” She continues to smile anyway.

“Thank you, dear. I’ll make sure to put it to good use.” I smile and nod.

“I was wondering if Sunny Hills could partner with you guys. Jamie loved it here, and I’m sure others in the program would too.” 

“I’d love that!” The older woman says.

I head home to the small garden I created in my backyard and smile at the budding flowers that have just started to break through the dirt.