This is a readaptation of my multi-chap, "Therapy." Hence the title. It's not closely connected. On the topic of actual emotional and mental therapy, there are definitely some downsides to it, but it is not ugly. If you feel like you need help, you should look for it. There are so many things we can do to live better lives.
Not everything here is accurate, seriously.
Enjoy!
"I want to kill you, if you don't beat me to it "– Phoebe Bridgers, "Kyoto"
9/14
I'm done with my work today. Nothing else is pressing at the moment.
This would probably be a lot more productive if I chronicled my experiences.
Nothing happening in the Recovery Wing right now is important enough for my research. Most prisons work with other treatment centers, but the Goode Penitentiary, the one closest to Manhattan, is located in the middle of nowhere. I enter from a special entrance that was probably once a window.
One of the group therapy leaders was sick, so my sample size was also cut. I simply oversee the opiate addicts who take either type of medication: methadone or suboxone, if they've consented to my study. And nothing dramatic has happened. There's just a lot of inmates.
Ms. Ramírez-Arellano, the head of the Recovery Wing, told me on my first day that the place has an average of 30% success in rehabilitation.
I don't think that'll play out well in my report.
A new patient was placed in my hands this morning. A lot of them come and go, but if all my subjects have been at the Wing within a few weeks of each other then there's no issue.
There were a lot of blanks on his insurance information, but I managed to help Will, the actual pharmacologist, assign some suboxone to him. He made a big show of smacking his lips.
"That's one of the best things I've eaten here. You want to try one, Annabeth?" he asked.
His name is Perseus. Percy, he asked everyone to call him. He took his mother's maiden name, because his father left him at a young age.
He looked a lot younger than he was, closer to nineteen than to twenty-nine with his lankiness and rumpled jumpsuit. His eyes were basically green enough to be photoshopped.
Percy apparently knew the Penitentiary well. He'd spent five years inside. According to my basic research, it had overgone two budget cuts in the time he had been here, and it had an unpleasant number of reported injuries from security guards. But he didn't think it was all that bad.
It wasn't exactly boring for him because of the thriving drug trade, I surmised. And Percy was more than happy to tell me about it. His cellmate was close friends with Lee, who was rumored to be the source of all "good things", and his days mostly consisted of doing heroin in the supply closet. I don't know why he was pursuing treatment in the first place if he reminisced so happily about it, but he was at the Wing anyway.
Percy continued talking very animatedly to me. He sounded interested about my study. Inside the paisley-patterned waiting room, he didn't sit down at the small round tables but moved around from foot to foot. There wasn't much space to stand around the thirty-or-so seats. He glanced out of the windows a lot.
Will said he was probably settling into acute withdrawal.
Percy got a prescription for sleeping pills from Dr. Yew's office. Since it was his group leader that was on sick leave, he didn't have anything to do yet, but he refused to "settle down" in his shared bedroom. He was my responsibility, so I stuck with him throughout the Wing.
There were only a couple of in-patient rooms and the low-ceilinged group therapy spaces. I think it was converted from a storage area a few years ago. Most of the inmates went to Will for their medication, attended their group meeting (if the leader was here), and got a fast health check in the waiting room. The whole place was routed with too many hallways and turns, which Percy agreed to by idly kicking the corners.
"It sounds like I don't have much to do here."
"You get to be recovering," Nurse Piper told him as she pushed along meals, laughing.
The nurses gave him a sippy cup because we were leaning next to the nurse station and exchanging information about where we could each go around here. It got spilled all over the floor, so he was shooed away.
I told him about the outside world and some recent news. He acted like he paid close attention to me, but not my words. "It sounds the same," he summed up.
His getting-released fantasy, which all the inmates had, was a beach party with all his family and friends. Even though he wasn't sure if his dealer, who he first imagined there, was hiding out in Mexico or not. "He's hilarious. He always says his name, Leo Valdez, spells 'love' for all the ladies," Percy told me.
I told him it was his fantasy, he could decide what he wanted.
And then he was accidentally making himself late for dinner, so Ms. Ramírez-Arellano made him leave.
Statistically, he probably won't find the treatment successful. He fits the mold well. I don't want to stick that in my research.
9/23
I had breakfast with my friend Hazel this morning. We don't ever see each other at the Gardner Dining Hall. It was a nice little place downtown, and they had good huevos rancheros.
We talked a lot about school, because of course. Though Hazel was a lot more involved in the whole "campus life". She asked about my courses, lacrosse practice, and pharmaceutical course's study. She laughed a little when I said it was fun, like usual.
Hazel had been in town a lot. It's apparently fair season in Midtown, and she has the tote bags to prove it. Her teddy bear-looking boyfriend, Frank Zhang, was willing to cuddle anywhere. It was nice to catch up about everything.
She seemed hesitant about my project. "Do you need the grade?" she asked. No, not badly, but I was majoring in this.
"I need to hit the ground running," I told her. Student debt wasn't a thing with her rich dad.
"Aren't you already grading your professor's undergrad classes?"
"This is good for experience."
"How do they keep you safe? Or keep them from escaping?"
I didn't know what to answer to that. It was just irrational for her to think. There were security guards. "That's not a problem. We need to administer help."
"Have you seen a prison break?" She smiled, and I explained what I did for research.
It was more awkward than usual…. though that isn't entirely new. It's complicated.
Later that day, I was scheduled to visit the Recovery Wing. I didn't have a lot of substantial evidence, but the newest guinea pigs are getting acquainted with group therapy. It's a handful keeping tabs on all relevant aspects of their treatment, but I got the whole day to watch. It's also convenient to hear from them.
Will allowed me to hand out everyone's prescriptions. A lot of them want more, and some aren't compliant at all. Which matches "irritability and moodiness" in the standard list of withdrawal symptoms. A black market-morphine user named Thalia asked for but didn't receive methadone, and everyone heard about it.
I might have to track withdrawal effects of the pills. Everything just gets more complicated.
I spent time around Percy again. He had to stay in bed for the past week. His room, like the rest, are tightly packed with four beds and curtain rails. The window, like all the ones in the Penitentiary, didn't open and it smelled like cheap antibiotic wipes. He broke his button panel that can call for a nurse or adjust his bed, which his roommate said was well-deserved.
Percy gave me a smirk for that.
It's clearly horrible for him, but he's also easily tired. His body protested with the suboxone. I think he was especially quiet because of the more painful aftereffects, but he didn't seem otherwise bothered.
Will laid out some detox options for me, but he didn't believe in most alternative medicines. Those expensive powders were either useless or highly addictive. Percy didn't like that idea either but asked me, in private, if I could add some Coke to his IV bag.
Of course I didn't. The nurses would've killed me over his dead body. But he put up a convincing case. He looked weak and needy, too.
"I'm a special case," he told me proudly. "You don't get like this without years of dedicated use."
"You're going to lose your spot in this wing," I said. He laughed in response, shaking the creaky metal frame of his bed.
He kind of has a nice laugh.
And he laughed at everything. "Annabeth!" he suddenly called out while I was scanning his roommate's prescription. "Did you know OTP stands for 'one true pair'? Like, 'Amy and Jake are my OTP.'"
I had no idea who he was talking about. I don't know where he found time to watch crime shows.
"Brooklyn Nine-Nine!" He had dark circles underneath his eyes, but he was excited. "It was the only thing at the shelter. And Dr. Yew just asked me, 'Your OTP is going very well, isn't it?'"
"I'm glad you're interested in your Opiate Treatment Program."
And then he explained to me who Amy and Jake were, and why they were the most deserving of adoration. Nico, who slept in the bed across from Percy and had errant all-black sheets, butted in that his card game characters were more impressive.
They both found my confusion amusing.
Percy finally got drained from talking to us, but he had trouble falling asleep. The taste of his pill was getting dull to him. He said his mother always gave him some blue Coke to go with medicine.
"Nice try," I told him. I suspected he might've been drinking something else, but he said that they shared "a thing for blue food."
"Blue is left out by nature, but it's a primary color. We're on a mission to bring it back."
"There are blueberries."
"And there could be so much more!"
I asked him, "How's the mission going?"
"She's still experimenting and telling me about it in calls. We're going to finish it someday." He started yawning a lot. His family was why he was here, he said.
"I'll stick this through," he told me, slouched in his bed. "Until my OTP ends in January. Somehow."
Piper eventually gave him a brief lecture, and he obediently placed the pill under his tongue. The last thing he told me was that he hated deep sleep.
10/2
I sat in at the back of a group therapy session today. Everyone's green chairs faced the tiny desk like it was a lecture, and light barely came through the filmy windows. I didn't get a lot of notes for my report. It was mostly sleep-inducing until someone roused everyone else with some explicit comment.
And Percy absolutely could not sit still in his tiny chair. He was almost spasming out of his orange jumpsuit. Thalia encouraged him to aim spitballs at some other poor dude for the remainder of the time.
They were asked to write down their thought spirals. Something that gripped them so they would keep hearing it. The facilitator-leader, Rachel, even asked me with a smile, but I politely declined. I didn't have time to join in with them.
Percy showed me his later. It simply said, happiness, over and over in his jagged chicken scratch. He kept adding to it with his stubby color pencil (all of them were unsharpened to prevent stabbings) while Rachel was talking. It might have been his favored street name for heroin, but it might've also been about the aftereffect.
I did some surveying and discussed therapy methods with Rachel after the session was done. Some of the inmates left if they got their medication already. There wasn't much space for lingerers. A patient at the end of her treatment period was withdrawing badly from her methadone, which I actually made a presentation about last year. She'll be more carefully watched, but she can't afford to be weaned off.
I found Percy pacing around his bed when I went through the inpatient rooms. There were dried tear tracks on his cheeks. "My eyes are still watery," he said with a groan.
"Is something going on with you?" I asked.
He was playing with the ends of his yellow-striped sheet. "I'm in a thought spiral. That's all."
Rachel had said something about stopping them before they went too deep, so I asked him to focus on something else.
He didn't reply.
"The treatment will start working soon," I told him. "Suboxone can derail effects of withdrawal, including cravings. You need to be patient."
"I can try again some other time." He stood up again, but I asked him to lay down. He complied and moved around more slowly.
"Sorry. That was too much." Percy turned to look at me. There were faint sun wrinkles around his eyes, but he was pale enough for thin green veins to show up underneath his skin.
I remembered hesitating before saying it was fine. He started staring up at the ceiling. I thought he would've wanted me to leave, but he kept making polite conversation to me, rubbing his eyes.
He found me later while I went to other patients. Eventually, he even walked me to the end of the Recovery Wing, before the security guards stopped him.
10/3
My dad's wife sent me a card through my email today. It basically asked for well-wishes on her birthday.
That's kind of ridiculous.
Actually, I have better things to do than this.
10/5
It's late, and August's electric bill almost gave me a heart attack, but I want to journal.
For the first time in my life.
Percy's about to leave his patient room. He was trying to get a goodbye hug from Nico, which didn't happen. I asked about his cellmates, and he just said they were alright and shrugged.
He was still pretty drained from medication. "That sucks for all the fights I get into." He sounded like he was joking, but I'm not sure.
The health report also ruled out a murder conspiracy for his abdomen pain. We're just chemical causes of side-effects in the third year of my master's. "It's poison," Percy said in determination.
I hate seeing him holding his stomach.
Well, today, I had a surprise for him. Hazel invited me for a brisk morning jog, so I got up early and ran 5k with her. It was nice and calm, also I beat the Saturday morning traffic. Percy woke up for me.
The health report also said he was underweight. His plain undershirt was hanging on him. He asked me to sit on the bed.
"You could be contagious."
"Annabeth." He sounded like a little, albeit whiny boy. The morning light was strong on his face.
It was a narrow bed, but we didn't touch. I gave him my surprise then. It was a slice of chocolate cake from the campus bakery. The security guard definitely felt it in my bag, but he let it through.
Percy said automatically, "I love you."
Connor, who slept beside him, said he would feel the same if I smuggled drugs in it.
"I'm good with Percy," I replied.
He left me a piece, with an almost-complete swirl of frosting. It's in the fridge.
The lights have been on for way too long.
10/10
I headed to the Goode Penitentiary after a university club fair, and Ms. Ramírez-Arellano clearly wanted her two hours back. The inmates were packed and tense.
One of the medicine shipments was late, so I didn't hear much about that. The perpetually-affronted inmate, Thalia, blew up about that in group therapy even though she said didn't want any suboxone.
There was a brand-new body in Percy's bed: Jason from Sacramento, out of all places. I don't stay in that room for very long now. He became an alcoholic recently and did something stupid at a winery he doesn't remember. "I'm told it was theft and destruction of private property, especially with the electric wiring." It definitely cost a pretty penny and he was getting jailed for a while.
Percy loved to say, "Jason doesn't get an OTP."
Percy went into the waiting room with most inmates now, playing with their triangle cups on the wobbly white tables. I helped upgrade his stacking game to pentagons.
"Annabeth, how do I look?" he asked today, sweeping at his close-cropped black hair and batting his eyelashes.
"You look normal," I said with no deliberation.
"My family's seeing me," he said.
His humor was catching onto me. "Your clothes are really popping."
"Good." He laughed.
I knew he was obsessed with his family. Percy told me then about his mom, his "pretty nice" stepdad, half-brother Tyson, and younger half-sister. It isn't abnormal for mixed-up families to be here. Their insurance was paying for this right now.
They came every two weeks. He missed them terribly, because his stepsister, Estelle, had a dance recital last time. She was prepping to be the princess in Swan Lake.
His memories of them all came from a decade ago. When he was a starving teen, not high, and occasionally suspicious of Paul.
"Mama makes her own decisions," he said with a shrug.
I asked him how his siblings felt about visiting the Penitentiary. Estelle was only a preteen, and Tyson sounded like an awkward kid that didn't exactly fit in with his peers.
"They hate it and never say anything. I'm not going to be the innocent victim here."
"That sucks," I said.
He placed on his last triangle cup and accidentally shook his obelisk. It almost toppled into Ethan at the next table, who had used every hallucinogenic under the sun. Percy scrambled to crush it back onto his desk.
We thought Thalia was sleeping on the sleeve of her jumpsuit, but she stretched her legs on the second chair. "They're hanging around here for how long?"
"They get an hour of visiting time."
"Should be less. You're a Class A felon!" she hooted. The clamor in the waiting room stilled slightly, but seeing it was just Thalia, everyone turned back.
"Paul tries to catch me up on everything," he told me. "Mama will hug me or ask about something she read in the news."
"They really care about you."
"Mhm." He kicked my feet. "Annabeth, do you have more food?"
I told him to keep quiet, so Thalia wouldn't wake up again. That was against the rules, and the only time it was happening.
Percy eventually told me his parents only visited in his second year, and Tyson had to put up a long argument to come. They didn't like seeing him inside.
"You'll be out soon. Are you going to be living with them then?"
"I think it'll be more comfortable than the homeless shelter." Percy smiled. I remember his papers said he had been kicked out of one, years ago.
He left afterwards to join his cellmates in their daily outdoors excursion, blending into the middle of the group, and to finally see his family.
I don't think I should be interfering with anyone else's family at all. But the prison doesn't make him a worse person.
10/12
Hazel just came over. I was caught unawares. My cup noodles were still piled over the unlit stove from my last hasty grocery trip.
She brought some ice cream and a dragon-themed blanket for the one-person couch. She wanted to talk.
We had a fight before. We fought about snacks last time. She made some last-minute changes on my detailed itinerary for our trip to Massachusetts, there was a big mess on the back of the rented car, and we started arguing about our responsibilities.
I feel like I shouldn't be writing about this.
She brought Frank, who was just a friend then. He said he knew everything about the wild, which I think he was bluffing about to impress Hazel. They didn't come with me to pay my cousin a visit. But we were still alright.
The fight hadn't died down for her, or so she said. Hazel had a list of issues. That I always left her out in planning things, in my life. That I talked down to her. And I got irritated easily, but the case was turned against me there.
Well, I said I was sorry she felt that way.
We finished the ice cream quickly. I told her I still had some worksheets to grade for my job.
"Annabeth, are we trying again?" she asked.
I told her we were still friends. She left with her blanket, and I went back to my bedroom for the heating.
The worksheets are still waiting for me.
10/18
I found out some more about the Penitentiary today.
So Percy has moved back into his cell for a while, and he decided he honestly preferred it more. There was always someone around there to interrupt him from whatever he was doing. His cellmates and him were involved in chipping Batman's face into the underside of a bunk.
They sounded…alright.
But he was also encountering someone again. There was a security guard that despised him named Octavian. "He's an a**hole," Percy said plaintively.
Nico agreed and shared that Octavian sometimes yelled at them in the cafeteria line to hurry up. And then he would lean in corners and just stare.
"It's dehumanizing," he told me when I didn't get it. "I hate being watched."
Octavian clearly hated the guts of everyone around him. When we were alone, Percy moved his chair closer to mine and said he was the one that always sent him to isolation.
"He did it without hesitation. He would just walk me away in the middle of anything." Percy was leaning back in his seat, but he was tense. Maybe even mad.
"Doesn't he need a good reason for that?"
"Yes. I do drugs." He half-smiled.
I looked away. "And how long do you stay inside for?"
"I don't really know. It differs."
"On average, it's a week, right?" I had read that from other studies.
"It never feels like it."
I wanted to know how it was, being there. He never minded offering to talk. Clouds kept moving over the sun at that moment.
"I would always be bouncing off the walls. The bed's horrible and I stop feeling hungry. After some time, you can only hear your thoughts and they're too loud."
I was silent for a while after that. He probably had a lot of thought spirals. It's a toxic cycle, all the reports say. Being alone and forced to detox only heightens cravings.
"You can write that in your report," he offered. He was smiling again.
"Really?" He got over it so easily.
"Sure. You could use it in your title."
"I have a limited word count for outside quotes." I said.
"What else is so important?"
I had to include all the wisdom from Ms. Ramírez-Arellano, and I was saving a spot for direct accounts of relapsed patients, but I didn't mention that. "Okay, I'll type it up. And how should I introduce you?"
"Champion of blue food."
I disagreed with that.
He nagged me about it for a while. And then, Percy Jackson, champion of blue food, said at the end of the hallway, "'Then I shall say good night 'til it be morrow.'"
I think his stepdad is a Shakespeare fan.
10/31
Ms. Ramírez-Arellano called ahead for me to take it slow. I almost dropped my books on the way to the dorms.
A lot of crime happened on Halloween, she said. And she was worried some of us might've been gorging on too much candy. "Not you in particular, Annabeth."
The Goode Penitentiary had black streamers draped around the front and back entrances. I parked next to a plastic jack 'o lantern in the back.
The Recovery Wing looked more or less like normal, though it smelled a little fruity. Except a Vulcan Will made me stop outside his office.
"You're not wearing a costume," everyone told me. I honestly wished there was an extra pair of scrubs around, just so I could be left alone.
All the inmates had cardboard masquerade masks or ridiculous hats. Thalia had a giant wad of toilet paper for mummy wrappings, though the guards only let her cover her torso.
And Ms. Ramírez-Arellano walked into the room as a Roman gladiator. When anyone gawked at her for longer than acceptable, her hand went to the hilt of her most-likely-not-plastic sword. We all moved aside for the sweeps of her purple cloak.
What also happened was that a long-timer named Michael got released from his treatment, and the nurses gave him warm hugs. I got a few quotes for my report.
And he left without looking back.
Percy had a turquoise masquerade mask, with a big wilted feather. He enjoyed the holiday for dressing up as superheroes with Leo (the year he got arrested they were Spiderman and Aunt May) and getting high, but he liked it.
He started following me around as I took notes for my study recently. He could hold one of my binders and usually took up all the space in the tiny rooms, but he was good company.
Some of the nurses were sneaking candy at their station. They probably had to bribe the guards to bring some in. The inmates congregated to share the worst stories with one another. There was a lot of murder involved.
Percy suddenly wanted to hear from me. "I've spent a lot of time with you here, but I don't know anything about you." He peppered me with questions, so I told him I do yoga and read journals, and that I liked olives.
He didn't know I was talking about medical journals. "People just post them? Aren't they blogs?"
We also got onto the topic of hopes and dreams. He said, "To be eternally high."
"I want to be remembered. In some way," I told him.
Percy smiled really sweetly. "That makes up for the olives. Who's in your life?"
"My friend Hazel. My study group, definitely." I had fallen out of touch with my high school friends, but they are still important to me, so I included them. "And my old professor."
We were back at the waiting room. He wanted to hear more about them, so I briefly described them all, except I started trailing off about Hazel.
"What's wrong?"
"We've had a misunderstanding, but it's fine."
"How are you going to sort it out?"
I was surprised he cared. "There's nothing to sort out. We've known each other for a long time," I said.
He nodded. Thalia finished her triangle cup pyramid. He joked that she must've crawled out from it.
"Do I look like I would fit?" she demanded.
I had to leave early since their night was ending soon. And then Jason took a seat by us, wearing Piper's pirate hat. She's younger than me and a mind-blowingly pretty undergrad, who kind of seems to like him too. There was a huge grin on his face.
"So the ship has sailed." Percy said mystically. "Called it."
11/5
My morning class was canceled, and I have nothing to work on. I really don't need to study for my afternoon quiz.
This café has the most overpriced muffins, but they're okay. Not as stale as my undergrad bistro's.
My dad Skype-called me. It was pretty early for him to be up, but he probably doesn't sleep in with the boys running about anymore.
I wouldn't know.
He looked scruffy, and his facial hair always turned into sideburns after a while. I didn't recognize the bay window behind him, with the nice view of the dawn. I think he was wearing his pajamas and a tweed coat. He wanted to invite me to Thanksgiving.
I don't even have enough time off to catch a flight. My study will have to continue, and maybe I'll get some substantial effects by then. Mr. Yew will be making health reports again.
He said his family wants to see me. And that he saw my name in the university paper for a "ground-breaking" essay.
I don't want to talk to any of them. I have too many better things to do. He said he expected that, and wanted to say I needed to find happiness outside of work sometimes.
Of course I do. He was talking about getting obsessed, and prideful, but his wife's voice was in the background.
I hung up for us.
He doesn't get to direct anything in my life. Or pretend like he has any involvement.
I think that, again, I'm spending too much time on something that doesn't matter.
11/18
When I drove around the Penitentiary, I saw inmates jogging inside the recreation complex. That was a usual sight, except I also spotted Percy there.
He was keeping pace with a barrel-chested African American guy and laughing at the same time. He swatted at another curly haired guy, who dodged away with a wild grin. They were growing tinier behind the chain-link fence, but it was good to see him active for once.
Will had a number of things for me, since some inmates were transferring in and someone needed their meds adjusted. Kayla, who was my most promising subject for non-medicated recovery, went unconscious from muscle pain when I was there a few hours. She never spoke a word about it either, so a nurse only discovered her after twenty or so minutes. Ms. Ramírez-Arellano turned to me to offer some input on providing pain relief, and I just stuttered through a useless answer.
I hope my degree will be worth more than that.
(Eventually Dr. Yew said the smart thing, that Kayla would get hooked too easily and her pain would feel worse once we cut her off.)
I also learned some more about Percy's condition.
He has a dual diagnosis of ADHD with his heroin addiction. It's been in his files all along, and didn't come as a surprise, except Dr. Yew didn't have a habit of reading all the patients' documents. Will explained to me that the two issues usually play into one another, and the more common case is addiction and depression.
He'll be looking into Percy's insurance to try and put down an order for some ADHD medication, preferably non-addictive ones, and he discussed it in Rachel in case there was anything she could do. I was planning on bringing it up with him, but I found him staring out a window.
"Hey. I can fill out the survey," he finally said to me.
I asked what he was looking at, and he shook his head. "I'm just looking."
"What's the problem?"
"I kind of want to escape." He gave me a small smile when he said, "Don't tell."
"It's fine."
He leaned over to my ear. I think he was just at the "gross" shower rooms, because he smelled like soap. "Annabeth, have you ever used?"
"No." I hate that I felt wary then, but I did.
He looked wistful. "It's really nice. I mean, this can happen," he gestured randomly around him, "but it's worth it."
I was going to suggest he talk to Rachel or someone, only he went on. "Is it bad that I miss heroin like an actual person? More than actual people?"
"No, that's not bad."
"Really?" He looked at me. The sun slanted across his face.
"It's normal, maybe not good, but…you get to express yourself." It wasn't the best answer I could've come up with.
"When I got caught, I was actually holding a bag in my hands. It wasn't the most I had at one time, but I wasn't careful enough. But the cops were on a break or something and I think I was still a little high." He smiled at me.
I tried to make a noncommittal, non-panicked sound.
"I don't want to try and get it together. Staying clean is horrible." He sighed.
I blurted without thought, "Please don't relapse."
"No, of course I won't." His voice sounded flat, and he turned back to look outside the window. The shifting light created shadows around us.
I thought he was displaying some withdrawal symptoms his suboxone was supposed to improve, but I didn't try and identify them then.
"Don't feel too bad. I've always been like this," he told me.
"Should I ask about adjusting your meds?"
Percy ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Nah. This is going to be over." He sounded almost hopeful.
The number-one thing they were told at group therapy was that recovery was a lifelong process and I couldn't say anything for a moment. "You're finishing your OTP."
An unintended smile cracked his face beautifully, and took a few seconds to diminish. "I know my family's waiting for me."
"They're excited to be with you again," I said confidently.
"You've never met them." He nudged my shoulder.
"You can do it, and I'm always right."
Percy leaned his head against the wall. "I won't argue against that. Can I stay a bit longer?"
I went to check with Ms. Ramírez-Arellano, and he got to skip a movie. He probably noticed how closely I was watching him, but he didn't say anything.
My hand is getting really sore. Nothing much occurred.
11/23
It's happening.
Percy had to leave for court a few days ago, and everything has been set up. If he keeps up the good behavior, he'll get released a week after his treatment ends.
That'll be on January 20th.
He was more ecstatic than I'd ever seen him. He grabbed Jason and they spun each other around in the hallways. Jason's glasses almost fell off.
I'm so happy for him. He acts like he could just blend into the walls, but he belongs on the outside. Being free.
Percy fashioned party hats with the triangle paper cups and offered them around. Thalia kept hers on the longest with unprecedented balancing skills.
He also gave me a hug. It was long.
And it was kind of nice.
11/24
Thanksgiving break has officially started at Columbia.
I am so bored.
All the blankets in my apartment are on top of me. I feel like my laptop's was about to slide off the sheets while I went through Scientific American. But that was already an edition from '79, since I've looked at all the recent ones, and I have nothing else to do.
I could do full time at the Recovery Wing, but they don't have that much space there. I don't have any undergrad papers to grade either, because they had an important opinion essay or something.
Hazel called me about a bookshop she found. That was exciting. She told me Frank was playing with his high school basketball team.
I got a dog-eared version and utterly yellowed copy of Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut and an illustrated encyclopedia of new medicinal plants. They're taking some time to blend into my home décor right now. Hazel actually had a second tote bag for me to carry them around in. The bookseller recommended to her a detailed book of Michelangelo's sketches.
On the bookshelf behind us, there was a dolphin-shaped hourglass. Sand, plastic kelp, and some shimmery blue gel streamed from one half to another when it was flipped. One of the baristas lightly reset it with a clink when his shift ended.
"I would buy that," Hazel offered. But they clearly needed it to keep time, so I declined.
She looped arms with me as we felt the warm little shop. I think she was wearing a hoodie that belonged to Frank, because it was large enough to be a dress. On the subway, after we secured seats, she opened her sketchbook on her lap to some drawings of Broadway Street, and horses grazing pasture when she visited a ranch last summer. There was also one of Frank leaning against someone's shoulder, and Hazel immediately whipped to the next page.
Things are pretty much alright with us. I don't need to be a perfectionist about everything.
11/25
The Recovery Wing is not accepting "non-essential volunteers" for Thanksgiving.
It's absurd. They could use the extra help. Maybe the inmates would want some company.
So my study will be put on hold. I've been visiting every day of the week up to now, unless there's something big happening inside the Penitentiary.
Also, I just learned that someone relapsed.
He's called Travis. He was always the prankster and has a younger brother in Staten Island for trafficking drugs.
He was found in the showers.
When Rachel told the rest of the inmates in group, some of them looked downright hungry. The drug trade is still thriving.
He's removed from his program, from the Recovery Wing. Right now, he's in isolation.
I'll be able to visit him later with a couple of security guards to assess his experience.
I hope I don't encounter Octavian.
It's surprising that I'm allowed inside. At least now I have every reason for staying mostly sober as an undergrad and lacking a criminal record. There's nothing I'll get to see, and I barely have twenty minutes with Travis (from outside his door), but it's a lot.
I thanked Ms. Ramírez-Arellano for it and she said I would be the first to care.
11/27
I had two security guards at either side of me and we took the dank, unused route to get to isolation. My eyes could barely adjust to normal lighting after that.
There were a few hallways with rooms, only spaced apart by a few feet. From the window, I could glimpse someone curled up on the floor.
It was Travis.
I think he eventually moved to sit by the door, because I couldn't see him after that.
He said nothing was real anymore, nothing was there. He wouldn't care if the world burned.
I took a lot of notes, and my handwriting got more and more jagged. Even though the security guard was right there, I squatted down to be closer to him. He barely hung onto my voice.
It was still hard to end our conversation.
One guard asked if I wanted to see inside. The other one gave her a warning glance, but they tugged the door open eventually.
The room was sallow and desperate. Travis hoisted himself onto the bed, and stared at the open doorway blankly.
The guards let me know later that he was only staying for two weeks.
When Percy saw me, he was almost falling asleep onto the waiting room table from his new atomoxetine pills. They've been making him more focused but more subdued. I didn't say anything to him.
12/2
So. Well. This is going to become a gossip column.
I should probably get rid of it somehow.
Arghhhhhhhhhhhh.
This is stupid.
But it's important to journal. It helps process thoughts and emotions and improves mental health.
I could write about my most recent presentation instead.
But I don't have all the time in the world. I should just get this out of my system.
So something happened. In group it was Percy's turn to share something he wished he could've let go of. It was the time he left his family in the middle of the night to room with his dealer. That didn't last long, and he moved to the homeless shelter he got kicked out of later. He dreamt a lot about this.
He didn't sleep much eventually, he told me in private. Leo was usually out at night and he wandered around bars or clubs. Most of the addicts he met were friendly enough to share. Insomnia was a regular effect of not abandoning heroin for a few hours anyway.
We were sitting by the wall of the waiting room once I was done, since most of the inmates were eager to leave. I said I missed him on Thanksgiving Day.
Don't ask me why I said that. I mean, I was used to seeing him every day.
He smiled and said he did too, sounding a little surprised. "At least we had a nice dinner," he told me.
After a pause, he added, "We should do that sometime."
I took his hand. His fingers wrapped around mine so naturally, it was like he was expecting it. And I led him to the women's bathroom.
That was kind of stupid, there could've been someone in there.
I still can't believe it.
It's been so long since I ever looked at someone in another way but it just happened.
12/3
I liked kissing him.
Confound it all. I have to see him later today.
…
I can still clearly recall how he looked when I saw him. Thalia's playing cards slipped out of his hands.
I remember giving him a look, like what?
He quickly picked them back up and dealt an ace Thalia had already seen, but she just snorted. And then he looked back at me and mouthed, "Sorry."
I smiled back as I moved through the waiting room.
We acted normal when we actually interacted together. Thalia was still there, and Nico who'd just got in, looking sleepy. They started playing blackjack.
Okay, well, he smiled a lot and took his suboxone automatically. And I touched his shoulder. Twice.
He looked like he wanted to say something out of the norm, as we went around, but there were always people next to us in the halls. I said I could've got him a piece of paper or something, and he just smiled and shook his head.
Okay, we weren't super discreet. When I went back into the bathroom—that bathroom, Thalia was washing her hands at the mirrorless sink.
She said, "You're crazy, Chase," and then lobbed a crushed paper towel perfectly into the trash can. I think she smiled over her shoulder, but I don't know.
12/10
It's insanely cold. The one thing that makes me miss living with my dad.
Christmas has been sort of catching on around the Goode Penitentiary. There might be decorations around the Wing eventually, and someone already set up a tree in the nurse station.
Percy told me, "They brought in a Santa once so we could sit on his lap, and he got beat up."
When I was aghast, he hurriedly said, "I'm joking."
Jason loved that.
Most people hated the holidays. An inmate named Clarisse punched Ethan for humming "Jingle Bells." I didn't need to personally ask anyone to realize how they felt, since both therapy groups generally discussed this now. Dr. Yew said he tried to be more careful with antidepressants around now.
Percy asked me what I did for break anyway.
I said, "I buy gifts for Hazel, her boyfriend, and some of my professors. The campus bakery also has a discount for gingerbread men, so I eat them and watch some classic."
He then said, "What about family?"
I said it wouldn't be a holiday with them, and Thalia gave me a fist bump.
He hit his knee into mine, which was more directed than his normal fidgeting. "They don't know what they're missing."
I asked him about what his family usually did. He vaguely remembered stockings and honey-glazed ham. He always woke before Tyson. His last Christmas with them, Estelle was wearing candy cane-striped socks, or maybe reindeer ones, he didn't really remember.
I knew his memory was foggy from using heroin, especially when he was young, so I changed the subject for us.
I told him about growing up in Virginia, finishing high school early, and all the perks of my apartment—the traffic was better than an alarm clock, there was only hot water at the kitchen sink, and I actually had a nice view of the Chrysler Building. Thalia also shared that the alley she used to sleep in was nice to a high-end restaurant, and during the holidays, the drunk guests liked to drop their expensive accessories.
Percy rolled his eyes and smiled at me. "I like listening to your voice," he said.
Well, I have to get through exams first before enjoying anything about this season.
12/21
Today I went through my survey statistics after breakfast. I'm on break, and I just finished a huge chunk of essays for my actual paying job.
I'd asked both groups (even with the constantly fluctuating patients) to rate how they felt mentally, physically, and about their OTPs on a scale of 1-10. It was a rather simple system, but I didn't have many options for doing this study alone.
Excel showed some interesting upward trends for physical well-being, with the exception of Kayla and few others. Mental well-being was only crawling, but that's not entirely surprising. There are a lot of relapses. Ms. Ramírez-Arellano just emailed me about a newcomer named Dakota.
That rest of the list includes Travis, Michael, Clarisse, and a few others.
At the suggestion of my professor, I also have interview records with them, but I haven't typed up the transcripts yet.
Well.
It's going to be a thorough report.
Hazel invited me to a Christmas Eve party. She's not attending, Frank has something special to do with her. I don't want to go. My only nice dresses are too cold for December. This study still needs to be worked on.
I don't want to journal right now. It doesn't seem to be helping.
12/24
During my bag search, the security guards almost pulled apart my gift, but they said I could show it to Percy and give it back to them afterwards.
I almost feel like Santa.
The Wing's decorations were in full swing. Some of the nurses had Santa hats. There was no tinsel or fairy lights around the tree to prevent strangling hazards, but a couple of plastic balls on the top branches. Anyways, Percy was lit enough.
His parents visited him yesterday to avoid traffic. He really, really missed his mom's hugs. When I said I was sorry, he gave me a slow smile and told me not to be.
Jason came later for his antidepressants and barely said hi to us when Piper walked into the waiting room. He looked glued to the spot. Thalia stuck out her pierced tongue at their awkward little dance before Jason kissed Piper.
"Mm, good technique," Will commented, strolling over on his break.
They kissed slowly, and I was waiting for Ms. Ramírez-Arellano to glance out of her office window and put a stop to things, but she didn't. They broke off in a few minutes and the inmates applauded wildly.
Percy whispered in my ear that they weren't as romantic as us, and I gently jabbed him in the stomach.
Everything was routine during the holidays, and no one was feeling particularly good on their meds, so we stopped in an inpatient room. Only three inmates were there, crammed on Miranda's bed discussing Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (one of the few selections from the library). We drew the curtains halfway around the last bed and sat down.
I gave him the shopping bag. Percy blinked before smiling hugely. "Annabeth. You know I didn't get you a gift."
"It's okay, I don't need one." I gestured for him to open it.
The bag had an impossibly soft blue hoodie. He grinned. "Thank you. It'll look so nice with the orange."
"They are complimentary colors. Maybe you'll be able to keep the jumpsuit when you get out."
Percy laughed. "Of course I'll ask for it. It's so comfortable."
I took the hoodie back and folded it into the bag. His foot had bumped into mine a couple of times already, but he pressed his leg to mine. "I still feel horrible. My mom said to always return gifts."
"Did you take all of your pills?"
"Yes. That doesn't count."
I was going to say it did, that was one of the few things I bothered with in life, but he leaned forward to kiss me.
He touched my hair and started smiling too much for us to continue.
I didn't want to get out of there.
My university's holding a Christmas party, which I eventually brought up because he hated the thought of me being alone while Hazel spent the night alone with Frank. Piper told us that her dad canceled, and she had no plans.
So I asked her if she wanted to come, and she sounded excited.
I should probably get ready, then.
12/28
I kept spacing out while watching recorded Stanford University lectures. It's kind of my secret pleasure, because their classrooms look amazing.
I'm just glad I'm not in class right now.
Piper said journaling is a serious thing, and everyone should do it to improve their minds.
If only she knew what I write about.
There were extra volunteers around yesterday, since it's the holiday season, and the rooms were crowded. At least there was less complaining. Nico didn't show up, but he still had a good attendance rate, so it wasn't a call for alarm. Percy promised to check on Nico's cell once I left.
I was supposed to be doing something, I don't remember what, but Percy tugged me into a group therapy room. The chairs were messily arranged and we barely had any space to stand. It was empty at the moment.
He said, "Hey."
I looked at the wall behind us. "I missed your meeting yesterday. You guys wrote poems?"
He grinned. "We had to share them. Did you hear all about mine?"
"No, Drew's stole the show."
"Yeah, it did." He moved closer to point to his, among all the other art Rachel made them do.
They made the poems as collages with old magazines and safety scissors. His words weren't glued in completely straight lines. The poem was:
"alone tired loud
straighten up, be still
go away
light escaped
gasping drowning faster
I won't move"
"How is it?" He asked so casually.
"It's really good," I said.
"Thank you." Percy beamed.
"What were the poems supposed to be about?"
"Anything was fine. If we're sharing though, it has to be dramatic."
"That's not a rule," I said to him.
"It never hurts to have some flair." He laughed and turned to the front of the room. His bony shoulders lifted in a shrug.
I was surprised when he suddenly started picking his way over the chairs. His legs were like stilts. Percy went to Rachel's cassette player.
Our phones were all stored with the guards, and Rachel was just a fan of mixtapes. Percy was sort of close with her. The ancient player creaked before "Paris" by The 1975 started rolling. She had the longest collection of songs for quiet reflection.
Which usually never lasted long.
I pushed myself through the chairs. "You like slow songs?"
"I don't mind listening to anything." He was right before me. He smelled like detergent and cheap soap.
"Sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"You didn't do anything." Percy dragged chairs into position for us. Our knees bumped together a few times, and I almost reached out to make him go still, but I realized people had been doing that for his whole life.
"If it's okay, can you tell me what your poem is about?"
"Sure." He scooted closer. "I guess there was some stuff on my mind." His eyes danced around the room as he thought. "When I run out, it's a part of me. I can't focus."
"Thank you." His eyes met mine and he smiled again.
"Rachel said it was breathtaking."
It took me a second to realize he was talking about the poem. He looked smug. "That was nice of her."
He laughed. "Can I do something?"
I nodded, and he got off his chair.
And then Rachel walked in. "Hey," she said.
He didn't do anything after that.
"Thanks for the speaker," I thought to mumble, and I pushed us out of there. Rachel and Percy waved at each other.
I have to run now. I should probably find an excuse to skip the group meeting today, though. Rachel's smirk could be permanent
Maybe the non-therapy-receiving methadone users need special attention.
12/31
My bills just came in.
F**k.
I won't have enough in my bank account.
Happy new year to me.
1/2
I caught lunch with Hazel today, and had to apologize for ditching her on New Year's Eve and all, but it was nice. We shared some froyo. She said she told Frank she loved him.
I, for one, am not surprised.
Being at the Wing has been more draining than before. I have to be the collected one while the inmates say they're physically a 2, because they split a knuckle punching at their cell walls or refuse to give me a number at all for mental health.
What am I supposed to put in my report?
Rachel said that Nico relapsed some days ago, and he was in isolation right now. She paused before telling her group she could hear his voice calling out from another hallway.
Percy left the room then.
The rest of us stayed silent.
Everyone apparently knew Nico. Will and Ms. Ramírez-Arellano were varying degrees of sad and pissed off. Will decided to leave his office and stay at my elbow for the day, trying to maintain deep breaths while I talked to the inmates.
We found Percy, in a short time, behind the nurse station. He was telling Piper about how jealous he felt, and how angry that he was jealous of Nico. I don't know if he saw me then because we moved on.
When he found me later and walked me out, I paused in the exit hallway. He looked at me questioningly.
I didn't know what I wanted to say. We just held each other's eyes for a moment.
This study is horrible. There's no room, no time, no compassion for feelings. Like in Slaughterhouse Five, I might as well say "so it goes" for every failure at recovery.
I don't know if I'll even have space for Nico's interview. The others' accounts sound similar enough.
And I still think that Percy would kill to be one of them.
1/11
It's late and I just graded a ton of essays that all said the same thing.
I'll still journal about this.
It was early when I arrived at the Recovery Wing. The place was quiet. Thalia finished her OTP a few days ago, which was probably the biggest thing. Miranda's cell was close to hers, and she said Thalia was "alive and kicking."
Probably literally.
A new inmate might've had an allergic reaction to her pills, but we're still waiting for a hospital to get back to us. I could guess most people's answers to my surveying.
Eventually Percy showed up, out of breath. He was uncharacteristically quiet, though not by much. When we were left to ourselves in a hallway, I asked him if something was wrong.
Percy smiled at me. "You're paying attention to me, Annabeth?"
We were standing kind of close together. I nodded.
His sleeve grazed mine, and he stopped. "Yeah, in the game room, the only open seat was next to Lee's friends. They asked me if I was interested."
I said cleverly, "Oh."
"I said no." He looked at me. "But I feel so tired."
I didn't say anything. He just placed his forehead on my shoulder.
I moved around so he could be more comfortable. His cheek kind of touched my neck, and it was soft. I could feel his breathing.
"I'm glad you did."
"I know," he sighed.
My head is also telling me the same thing about him. I still let him stay there for a long moment.
1/14
It's weird. I feel like I just crossed a line with Percy, except that the line was hardly there.
I guess he knows now.
And he simply took it in. I don't feel any regrets. Hazel told me I shouldn't expect the worst out of people, and in that moment, I didn't expect anything.
Percy hugged me instead and whispered in my ear that there's no point in blaming myself.
How did he know anything about stupid fights girls like me got in?
Hazel and I were fine and spent time together with any problems. We buried our issues.
Only I let myself into her apartment once to retrieve a Tupperware box she used for a bake sale and she panicked at the sight of me. Even though she recognized me. She yelped, "Annabeth?"
It feels easier to spend less time around her. That's an issue.
On my subway ride home, I didn't think about anything else. I forced the lid on our fight. Her concerns about me had to mean something if she cared.
He nodded like I wasn't bringing this up out of nowhere and I admitted that we should have actually talked about those problems.
Why did I let him know?
He said he didn't mind if I was open to him and I said I minded.
I shouldn't be. It means I care.
Not for him.
Please, not for him.
"This isn't going to go anywhere," I said.
"It can go outside of here," he replied.
That's everything.
1/20
Percy left the Recovery Wing five days ago. He said he would miss his suboxone.
I didn't see him for the rest of the week. Even if I went to see Nico in isolation, I wouldn't have encountered him.
I'm glad about that.
My relapse tally is growing. There's Ethan and Miranda. Thalia has been avoiding Ms. Ramírez-Arellano, which is never a good sign. Drew's prescription suddenly ran out, and she got hauled out of the Wing.
I think it was an idiotic choice to create a separate data pool. My original graph is shrinking.
I didn't want to dwell on any of this today, but I will anyway. These people, losing their treatments and lined up for isolation, have to be remembered somewhere.
Today was the day Percy left. Ms. Ramírez-Arellano gave me special permission to head to the front gate around 2 so his family could see me.
His stepsiblings were snugly bundled up inside the car, which was all fogged up. His mom, Sally, came outside in the slush with her husband. Percy was only a step behind, handing Estelle to Tyson and then coming forward to wrap me in a hug.
He wore the hoodie I got him, jeans, and a blue coat. There was a leather strap around his neck, but I didn't look closely. His skin was still warm.
"Mama, Paul, this is Annabeth." His voice was a little stiff, but he sounded happy.
His mom held out a hand for me first. They were both extremely nice to me, despite everything. I told them I'd heard great things, and Sally's smile became strained.
"Thank you for coming here," she told me.
I told her I didn't do anything; I just pumped the patients for information. She said empathetically that it was still important.
Paul spoke up about how great it was that Percy and I were "well, close." Percy nodded, putting his other arm around me too. I felt his face in my hair.
He gave me a burner phone's number.
"You have to attend meetings. I'm sure someone can find a new psychiatrist for another plan," I told him.
"I will, Annabeth. I promise."
Sally also promised. Percy exhaled and touched my shoulder before letting go. He went around the car to pull the door open for Sally. In the back, I saw Tyson move away from the empty seat.
And then Sally rolled down her window. Paul was holding hands with his wife on the console. They all waved at me. Percy blew a kiss.
I miss that. The whole family unit. I'm sure there's plenty of research out there about getting caught up in the moment. That was mentioned in the last Scientific American.
I don't know if I want it enough to try again.
When I returned to the Wing, Piper punched my arm and grinned. We didn't say anything else about it.
1/25
Hazel and I have talked for hours. Simply speaking, I think I'm done scrounging through my emotions.
But I apologized, and I'm not pushing her away anymore. Neither am I going to hit her ideas and suggestions down.
She also asked that I be more honest and straightforward around her.
I'm working on it.
1/27
It was freezing tonight. I went to pick Percy up outside of his Narcotics Anonymous meeting, which was actually in the basement of a nice office building in Midtown.
He says it's nice. The leader's voice could put anyone to sleep, but he's as cool as Rachel. Some of the members have been sober since forever. It's weird, that they don't all understand his experience at Goode, but at least he has some "cred" that way.
His hair has grown out slightly. You could run the tips of your fingers through it. Not that I did.
Even though I could've.
I should put my foot in my mouth. Or something in front of my pen, I don't know. He loves stupid idioms like those.
We drove out to Coney Island. The sky darkened early, and I couldn't see much except for a few passing cars and him on the trip there.
My car was filled with his sea-breeze smell.
There were a ton of people on the boardwalk despite the cold. That's just how it is in this city. He ate ravenously, corn dogs and waffle fries and chili. We split a mound of cotton candy that clung to my chin.
Percy placed his lips around it and stayed there for a moment.
The lights reflected off his dark blue parka. We got into the line for the Ferris wheel, just because. The metal of the seats was bone-chilling.
He gripped my hand tightly. "I'm cool with heights, it just kind of feels like I'm up in the air with nothing around me," he explained to me.
I told him Ferris wheels had perfectly sound structures, because of how the weight would be distributed to the base. And then the lit-up skyline came into our window.
"It's New York, baby," he murmured to nothing in particular.
Our breaths mingled into a cloud on the glass, and that ridiculous romantic drew a heart with his finger. On our way down, he leaned on me.
He was so warm and bony. His whole coat had a chlorine scent and his head felt softer.
I didn't realize how cold it was until we stepped outside.
The boardwalk finally opened up to the beach. He threw off his white Reeboks and socks to sink his feet deep into the wet sand.
"I missed the sea." His eyes glimmered. I thought they were just bright in the glow, but tears slipped into the crooks of his eye.
I felt like an intruder.
And then he said, "Thank you for coming here with me." I don't know why he waited for me to go with. Percy held out a hand for me.
I laced our fingers together. "Sure," I tried to say in a collected voice. And he was tugging me forward. We both laughed in the briny wind. At the shore, he pulled his hand away and knelt down to feel the ocean.
Abruptly, he splashed the water upwards. "Annabeth—I haven't done this in so long." He pushed his feet into the icy water.
I knelt down beside him to touch it too. The moonlight was cloudy, but it made him paler anyway. Without thinking, I used my wet fingers to brush away his tears.
Percy went still, and then he smiled. One of the droplets had fallen onto his skin, and then slipped into his mouth. "Annabeth," he turned to look at me, "I'm kind of at a loss of words about you."
I said something stupid about my hands being cold, so he grinned and took them.
His were actually a lot more like blocks of ice, so I wrapped them inside in my fingers. It was probably because opioid use slowed down circulation and he just held them in the sea.
"Why didn't you come here earlier? With your mom?" I asked.
"Oh." He bit his lip. "She has her novel, and Estelle. We don't see each other that much."
Percy had texted me earlier about sharing a room and getting his clothes mixed up. I didn't think too much about it, but it makes sense now. He's living with Leo now.
I remember feeling the hem of my jeans getting wet. He said that Leo's a much better roommate now, his crazy girlfriend just broke up with him, and they spend a lot more time together pigging out on Doritos to talk.
"I mean, we couldn't live together before because the customer-seller thing was too weird, and I kept asking for more…" He pulled one hand away to rub the back of his head. "That's not a thing now."
I asked him a little about Leo's business, and whether they ever talked about this, but he gave me simple, reassuring answers. "I love my family and we call every night, but it's kind of crowded there. No one was prepared, and it's just really nice to hang out with an old friend."
I told him that I also video-chatted with my dad. I even caught the twins all sweaty from football. We tentatively scheduled another time.
I'm not going to bother with his wife. Percy laughed at that.
We stayed there, the wind blowing our hair around, until some of the boardwalk lights winked out. He had to shake his feet a couple of times to get the feeling back into them, and then stuffed them back into his shoes without socks. I rolled up my jeans slightly, and he pretended to whistle.
We live on the opposite ends of the city, so I dropped him off halfway by a subway station. "Don't sit next to any of the addicts," I told him, which sounded funnier in my head.
He was still nice about it. He kissed me.
I remember the radio played a song Rachel sometimes did during group therapy, I think "Weather" by Novo Amor.
I thought I would crash into my bed and fall asleep, but here am I, writing everything down until the crack of dawn.
Good night.
2/5
There's a new batch of inmates at the Recovery Wing. They easily slot in all the spaces of the patients I've done my study with.
It is close to done. I've just been procrastinating tying up some loose strands.
Thalia's overall health statistics have been uncertain and I've just placed her with the "successes" like Kayla, only she doesn't belong to my system. Ms. Ramírez-Arellano caught her smuggling methadone from Will's office. There were apparently a few mix-ups along the line and she started trading pill cups with Clarisse.
And then she couldn't stop once taking it.
I would like to visit her in isolation, even if I'll have to travel through the women's cells, though that doesn't bother me anymore. But she refused all visitors.
Since my work cut off earlier than usual, I got to see Hazel for coffee. Her course had been discussing the 2018 remake of Fahrenheit 451 and the implications of casting an African-American man as Guy Montag, so she was rereading the book when I got there.
"I really like this part, when Montag's on the train and he's trying to memorize 'consider the lilies of the field. They spin not,' and he doesn't get much further than that but the first thing he reads is about giving up material anxiety," she said.
Lilies don't have the complicated chemical processes in our brains that medication is developed to counteract, I remember thinking.
She rehashed the plot and some major themes of the book because I could barely remember anything from reading it in high school. I wanted to ask her if he ever succeeded in giving those up, but she was running late for some club meeting.
3/15
I just had dinner with Percy.
We were celebrating his job. He told me he wasn't attending his Narcotics Anonymous meeting because it interfered with his work hours, but he could meet another group on the weekend and he had a salary now.
He was a handyman and there were all sorts of odd jobs involved, but it was okay. He would still be living with Leo for all time, unless things progressed with the new girlfriend.
We went out for dinner. He wore a dress shirt and smelled like aftershave. Our waitress swooned, not me.
It was just Olive Garden, and we took an outdoor table. I only saw the dark circles under his eyes up close. "New doctor, weird doses," he told me.
The afternoon was balmy. Percy rolled up his sleeves slightly, and the puncture scars on his arms were visible. They were pale pink or white, and some of the veins connecting them were dark from frequent injections. He didn't seem to notice until we were into our main course and hurriedly pulled his sleeves back down.
When I lightly nudged his foot with mine, he gazed over at me for a moment before smiling fondly.
The rain started pouring down halfway. We scrambled inside for cover. But the rain didn't lessen after half an hour of standing around, so we held a jacket over our heads and made our way to the subway station.
I gave Percy my drier coat. "Get warm, your immune system isn't that good," I ordered. He grinned and shook his head slightly. The rain was flung from his hair.
"Of course I'll be careful." He gathered me into a sharp, soft hug. He was leaning heavily on me.
My train came first, so I stood at the doors to wave goodbye. Percy smiled and continued to stand there as the train moved.
4/10
Percy has been using heroin.
I can't believe this.
He has hepatitis B from sharing someone's needle.
It might be acute hepatitis B, not chronic, and it could just go away in a few weeks.
I don't believe that.
He's been using for two months now.
Two months.
For two months he woke up and prepared needles to jab into his body, over and over. I don't know where he got the money.
I didn't know about any of this.
Why is his doctor good at nothing but bad news? He didn't share a single useful thing.
It's not going to end. His medication was supposed to prevent this problem, if he was taking it. He wouldn't have any possibility for infection if he didn't use needles.
If I paid attention he wouldn't have been using.
Percy was freaking out when we got to the hospital. He had thrown up while watching a movie with me. When we were in another waiting room, before the doctor could check up on him, he pleaded with me to not let them take his happiness away from him.
When all the procedures were over and he was getting walked into the blood testing room, he asked me to promise. I told him he was going to be okay and guided him inside.
Why did I tell him that?
When the doctor told us he was infected, Percy pressed his face into my stomach from his seat and apologized. I felt my shirt getting wet.
"I'm sorry. I love you, Annabeth. But I can't stop," he said.
4/30
There's nothing left for me to do.
My time at the Recovery Wing is over. I turned in my unfinished report, and my professor was rather impressed, but it's not going to be published. It's too rough.
And the findings, as detailed and complicated as they are, were expected.
"Addicts are addicts. Why do we even bother to make medicine for them, right?" he said to me with a smile I was probably supposed to return.
It's possible that Percy could be fine. He got a better doctor, even though he never showed up to any of the check-ups. I have to deliver his medicine for him. She said that chronic hepatitis B ends after six months, and adults usually fight it.
I've still spent every night researching the fatality of this virus. There's a slim margin left that people routinely fall into.
We don't see each other as much. It's, well, hard. He doesn't live with Leo anymore, there was too much conflict there, and he's squatting in an abandoned car shop. He's stopped asking me to leave him, so I'll come over while he's usually tired and winding down from a high.
He looks like he's bathed in sunlight. A Greek god. But it's only the jaundice in his skin.
We've talked a lot. I keep finding out more about him.
I know he wants to change.
It's probably sad that I still don't regret caring about him. I'm still falling for him a little bit more each time.
And I know he hates being alone.
…
Thank you for giving me this pen.
Write it down, Annabeth.
Fine. What's the problem?
I'm okay. I can still talk.
Then why do you want to write in my journal?
So you'll have something to remember.
…Are you going to respond with anything?
Is there something you wanted to write?
It's not that good.
Annabeth, I'm scared.
I know.
I love you too, Percy.
It's not too late. Addiction is a mental disorder, and it can stop.
If you're curious or want to delve deeper into the topic of substance abuse, please do more research. This isn't a reliable source :). Seriously though, there's so much stigma around drugs and there needs to be more awareness. The Heroin and Drug Foundation is a great source.
With love,
Pride-and-loyalty
