She couldn’t do it anymore. When she learned to drive, it became her job to find him when he disappeared or to go collecthim when he was stuck somewhere or in trouble. From the moment Joey turned to drugs, it had always been her job to deal with him when he was “sick” or needed something. Now that she was in college, everything Joey-related was her responsibility. It never mattered what she had going on in her life—an exam, work, a night out with friends, or even just sleep—if Joey needed something, she was expected to take care of it.
“Mom, no. I’m putting my foot down. It’s midterms.”
“Can’t you ask your professor for a retake?”
“No, Mom, that’s not how it works. I’ll get an F, which means I’ll get an F in the course. I’m not sacrificing my schoolwork to go look for him. He’ll come home when he’s ready.”
“But, Glennon?—”
“Mom. Stop. No. For once, I’m looking out for me. He has to want to stop, and based on how much he’s still in denial about his addiction, he doesn’t want to. Maybe if you don’t cater to him and make him figure out his own problems, he’ll think about quitting.”
“But—”
“No! I cannot be driving all over the city looking for him. I’m nowhere near anywhere he might be. If you want him found before he’s ready to come home, then you or Dad will have to go look for him.”
She disconnected the call to the sounds of her mother sputtering on the other end. If she didn’t hang up, her mother would just keep at her until, out of sheer self-preservation, Glennon agreed to go looking for him. No. She was putting her foot down. She’d been putting Joey first for years now. It was time for her to stop trying to save him when he didn’t want saving. It was time for all of them to stop.
Two hours later, midterm over, Glennon was headed to her car. When she got inside, she remembered that she’d turnedoff her phone after speaking to her mother because the woman would just keep calling if she didn’t.
When she checked her call log, there were ten more calls added to the original seven from her mother. There were also a slew of texts, with her mother using every emotional blackmail move she could. There was even one from her father, telling her how disappointed he was that she couldn’t think of her brother instead of herself for once. Seriously?
“Fuck me Friday to Thursday,” she mumbled.
Each call likely had a corresponding voicemail, and there was no way she was going to listen to those. The texts also went unread. They could sit there forever, as far as she was concerned. However, buried in the middle of her mother’s voicemails was one from Joey. She wanted to just delete it, but the ingrained guilt got the best of her, and she broke down, deleting the messages from her mother, one at a time, until she got to his.
“Glennon, I know you’re pissed, but I’m in a lot of trouble right now, and I need your help. I’m not lying. Mom took something from me, and I need to deliver it tonight. I need you to get it from her and bring it to me.”
He rattled off an address in a not-so-great part of the city. Fuck her to the following Thursday too. Not only was he in a part of town he had no business being in, but he was doing drug deals there. To top that shit-cherry sundae, now he thought she was going to haul her ass to that same part of town to bail him out. No. Fucking. Way. He could get the shit beat out of him for all she cared. Maybe that would knock some sense into him.
His voice rushed, like he was moving quickly as he spoke, but then the tone changed, and her blood ran cold. “Glennon… I’m serious. I’m not joking around. It’s a lot of product, and if I don’t deliver, I’m a dead man. I know I’ve fucked up. That’s on me. But I’m willing to make it right if you help me with this. I’ll… I’ll go to that place you talked about. I’ll go to rehab. Please. Just… justhelp me, sis, this one last time, and it’s done. I’ll get clean. Text me when you get this message.”
She sat in the car—the tail of her braid in her hand, brushing it back and forth across her lips. What if he was really in danger? She couldn’t turn him down. It was the first time he’d ever asked for help. The first time he’d ever even mentioned rehab and a willingness to go. He was her brother. What else could she do?
Letting go of her braid and exhaling a huge sigh, she started the car, then sent him a text. “I’m headed home to pick up the bag, then I’ll come to you. Be there in an hour.”
* * *
“Joey,I’m gonna kick your ass when I find you.”
After going home to collect the “candy” bag, she’d headed out to meet her brother at the address he’d given her. When she arrived, no one was there.
Now, she was pissed.
She was fucking scared.
This was not a good place for anyone to be, let alone a young, unarmed woman by herself.
Ghost-white knuckles gripped the steering wheel. When she looked in the rearview mirror, her frightened eyes seemed to take up the whole glass, her pupils so dilated that almost no iris color showed. Her lower lip was chapped and bloody from her tongue and teeth waging war as she tried to decide what to do.
“Screw this,” she said with shaky resolve. Projecting strength to herself was no longer an option. She was done. Finished. Going home, going to bed. Her brother could get himself out of his own mess.
What did she do with the drugs though? She could take them to the police station and turn them in. That’s what she should do, but she knew it wouldn’t be as simple as, “Hey, my mom foundthese in my brother’s room, and we’d like you to destroy them. Thanks. Bye!” She’d probably be pulled into an interrogation room, where she’d spend hours answering the same questions over and over. Her parents would get called in, and that would be her fault, even if everything she’d told them was true.
Nothing but shittier and shittier options.
As she contemplated what to do, a figure appeared at her passenger window and knocked on the glass. She shot straight up in her seat, a hand to her chest. Joey. She clicked the automatic lock to allow him entrance. “Jesus, Joey!”
He slunk into the seat, closing the door behind him. “Sorry, sis. You got the bag?”
