“I honestly wouldn’t know, but I think I remember him telling me the pills he had were the lowest dosage. Hang on, I’ll ask Cal. He remembers numbers and shit.”
Brix broke off to mumble to who I presumed was Calum, and my attention drifted to my bedroom window. It was raining again in earnest, and I couldn’t help imagining Kim still passed out on that bench, soaked to the skin, and exposed to the bitter wind. Could he have died if I hadn’t found him?
Thankfully, Brix saved me from the reality of answering that question. “Calum reckons Kim can take four of those pills before he hits the maximum dose, so he should be fine. Besides, he’s probably already slept most of it off.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I have no idea if I’m right, mate, but I know Kim won’t want you worrying yourself to death. He doesn’t wear guilt well. That shit fucks him up more than anything.”
Don’t I know it.Though, as I thanked Brix and hung up, it struck me as ironic that I’d learned as much about Kim today as I had in all the time I’d known him, at least as far as his addiction went. And why was that? Kim had never been particularly reticent about it. I just hadn’t bothered to ask.
And Kim thought he was the selfish prick.
Kim slept right through until morning, while I watched, unable to close my eyes to the guilt and worry kicking up dust in my gut.
It was barely dawn when he woke. I slid down the bed to face him, cupping his cheeks with my palms. “You okay?”
Kim blinked slowly. “I think I need to go to a meeting.”
“A meeting?”
“AA.”
I nodded. “When and where? I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“But you’re gonna?”
“Yes.”
Kim’s wry half smile was the poor ghost of any grin I’d ever seen from him, but this morning, with the early morning light filtering through the curtains, it felt like the sun. “I’m sorry, Jas.”
“Don’t be. I’m here. I got you.”
“Why?”
I looked down at Kim. “Why do you think?”
Kim didn’t seem to have an answer, and now didn’t seem the time for me to force my undying love on him. Instead, I got up and made tea, and then drove him inland to a church in the neighbouring town. Apparently there was an AA meeting there every third Thursday of the month, which made me wonder what local addicts did for support the rest of the time.
I pulled up outside. Kim opened the door, but he didn’t get out. “You don’t have to take this crap on,” he said. “We can go back to being friends anytime you want.”
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t support you in this?”
“A friend with better things to do than hang out at a dead-end church at dickhead o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m not hanging out at the church. I’m going to sit in that café across the road and eat my bodyweight in fried-egg sandwiches. Unless you want me to come in with you?”
Kim shook his head. “Some meetings let you bring someone in. They don’t like it here.”
“Then I’ll be just across the road. And, Kim?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll always be your friend, whatever happens.”
