He was already high when I picked him up from the bus station to bring him home.
I’d hoped after a month in jail he’d be clean and sober and ready to make a fresh start on the road to recovery. That’s why we were letting him stay with us. He had nowhere else to go, and we wanted him to be safe until we could get him into rehab.
But it was already too late for safe, for clean, for a fresh start.
I could have refused to bring him home, of course. I could have left him at the bus stop. But I didn’t. I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t absolutely certain he was high.
I was sure a couple of days later though when, after I refused to give him a ride into town, he disappeared in…
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