Traffic Girl - Juliet Ch. 21

Author's Note: This is a no-sex chapter, and it's going to carry us through a very difficult stretch of days for John. If it feels like the action moves fairly quickly, that's how I intend it. I didn't want to dwell on this challenging subject matter for too long because I think it takes away from the focus of the story, and there's only so much detail you need to get into about something like this. But I wanted to give it enough treatment that it leaves the proper impression about what our core group is facing. I welcome your feedback.

***

The flight back to Houston would have been lonely, but I was wrapped up in my concern for Katie. Jess was right when she had this was the first serious complaint Infinity had ever received about service. I more easily dismissed that complaint than Jess did. I knew it wasn't Katie who had failed to live up to expectations. It was oxy-induced Katie. But that still presented a serious problem.

I wasn't sure how to approach what needed to be done. I didn't want to be too confrontational. And I knew I wasn't an expert in addiction. Was this really an addiction? It hadn't been very long. It felt to me more like an early intervention. We had seen bad habits developing and were going to nip them in the bud. So I decided to rely on an appeal to her rationality and the closeness of our relationship. I hoped it would be enough.

It wasn't.

I realized that as soon as I got home and visited Katie in our guest house. She was responsive but on another planet. She smiled and hugged me when I walked in, but I couldn't help but notice that she constantly rubbed a runny nose with her long-sleeve t-shirt. Her eyes watered. I tried to cheer her up by talking about work or coming to visit in LA. In each case, her answer was the same.

"Yeah, I guess," she would say in a tired, slurred voice.

After about thirty minutes of forced conversation, Katie excused herself to the bathroom. Her hair was matted and unwashed. The guest house was dark, the curtains drawn. I started to get a little angry. This was such a fucking junkie's cliche. Katie was better than this. I calmed myself down by walking around, taking stock of the space. There wasn't anything overtly out of place or concerning in the main living area. I ducked into the bedroom, and that's when I knew we had a real problem.

There was a dull dusting of white powder remnants on the dresser and both night tables in the bedroom. That wasn't what bothered me. It was the piece of aluminum foil I saw lying on the coffee table near the foot of the bed, in front of the TV. A lighter and glass straw kept it in place, and the surface of the thin metal was charred black. A pill bottle sat to the side. I walked over to it. It was oxy, but the prescription wasn't written out to Katie. It was a name I'd never seen before. I knew she was in trouble. She never smoked anything. Never a cigarette. Not even the casual pull on a THC vape. She always declined.

I heard the toilet flush, and when the bathroom door opened, a slice of light spilled into the bedroom. Katie saw me and yellow flashed in her eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she snapped.

She was no longer spaced out. She was on fire with rage.

"I should be asking that of you," I said calmly.

"This is my fucking room," she said. "Get out."

"It's my fucking house," I said, still maintaining an even, if firm, voice.

"Fine, then I'll get the hell out and do whatever I want," Katie said.

She marched into the room, stopping at the coffee table. She picked up the pill bottle and shook it. It was empty.

"Shit," she said, a little spittle flying out of her mouth.

She stomped over to one of the bedside tables and opened the drawer. Another empty pill bottle, which she threw across the room. Katie screamed in frustration.

"Fuck!" she shouted.

Whatever rationally based playbook I had devised in my head went out the window. I was wholly unprepared for just how serious this was. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that in only a few weeks, Katie had turned from this bubbly, effusively optimistic girl to a run-down addict. This wasn't her. She needed help. So I did the only thing I knew how.

While Katie threw her tantrum about being out of oxy, I crept up behind her and grabbed her in a bear hug from behind. She fought it at first, but I was far too strong for her.

"Let me go!" she cried. "I need my phone!"

"Shh, shh," I said in my most soothing voice. "You need to rest, Katie."

"Fuck you!" she spat.

It stung. And it dawned on me in that moment just how serious this way. It dawned on me just how far from herself Katie had strayed in such a short period of time. At that moment, I made a decision. I hoped I could stick to it. It was uncomfortable to do, but I wrestled Katie to the bed. She kicked and gnashed and fought me, but my arms were solidly around her. It felt like an eternity, but I managed to grapple her into a spoon position. I kept my arms wrapped around her and followed with my legs. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and she let a torrent of obscenities fly.

I don't know how long we lay there, but eventually her breathing normalized. Eventually, she stopped fighting. Eventually, she fell asleep. I looked at my watch. It had been two hours. Kat and Rita had blown up my phone. I wondered if it was safe to retrieve my phone. I took the risk. I fished it out of my pocket. I had four missed calls each from Kat and Rita and one from Jess. I had forty-seven unread text messages. I took a deep breath, not knowing where to start.

But something caught my eye when I opened my texts. It was from Jason.

"Hey, bro," it read, "Crystal told me what's going on with Katie. I think I can help."

Quickly, I tapped out a reply to Kat and Rita, whose messages had accounted for forty-three of my unread texts.

"Call you in a minute," I wrote. "Katie sleeping."

Then I dialed Jason.

"Hey, man," he said. "What's going on?"

I rolled away from Katie on the bed, not wanting the vibration and noise of my talking on the phone to wake her. I slipped my feet to the floor and tiptoed into the bathroom but left the door open. I filled in Jason with what had gone down.

"I can help," he said. "But we've gotta do it now."

"Okay, what's the score, man?" I asked.

"About a year after you left the company, we had a guy go through this," Jason explained. "Really fucked up leg injury while skiing. Got into oxy in a really bad way, to the point where it was going to fuck up his career and his family. But he beat it."

"How?" I prodded.

"There's this guy," Jason said. "A doctor. It isn't cheap, but basically he'll come do a detox. I don't know all the details, but I can call him."

"Will you?" I said. "I'm not one for hysterics, but I think we're in a bad place here."

"I'm on it, brother," Jason said. "I'll get back to you when I know what's happening."

I pushed the red button to end the call, then set the phone on the bed next to me. I closed my eyes and laid still for several minutes. I felt the even, slow breathing of Katie next to me. She was in a deep sleep. So I decided to go to the main house and fill Kat and Rita in on the details.

In the midst of a crisis, I had to admit that sitting between Kat and Rita calmed me immeasurably. They were genuine and warm in their caring for Katie and for me. They took this on as our problem, one to conquer together. I filled them in on every excruciating detail of the past few hours.

"It just spiraled so fast, John," Rita said as we sat together.

"And we have no clue -- none -- where she was getting stuff beyond her prescription," Kat added.

"I know," I said.

The dismay and heartache in my voice and demeanor were obvious.

"She's still Katie," Rita said. "She's really strong."

"And stubborn," Kat said. "That's probably what makes this more difficult. She's stubborn, but her instincts are all haywire right now."

"Jason said this doctor has a legitimate program," I said. "It costs a lot, but he said it saved one of our old colleagues at the bank, who sounded like he was in way worse shape than Katie."

"Whatever we need to do," Rita said.

"Agreed," Kat said. "I love Katie. We want her back to her old self."

A few minutes later, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. When I picked it up, it was the detox doctor, as I came to call him. He had a flat fee of $150,000, and without calling it a guarantee, said that within ten days, Katie would be past withdrawals and into a legitimate recovery phase. Without blinking, I simply asked if he preferred cash, check, or credit card and inquired how quickly he could get here. He said two hours.

I hadn't left the guest house even thirty minutes, but when Kat, Rita, and I returned together, we found Katie in the kitchen screaming into her phone.

"Now!" she yelled. "N-O-W! What part of that don't you understand? It's only three letters!"

She screeched like a banshee and threw her phone against the kitchen floor.

"Motherfucker!" she screamed.

She was sweating, and her body shook. Kat and Rita both glanced at me. We had a shade under two hours to go before the doctor arrived. His instructions to prepare for his arrival were to keep Katie calm as best we could.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Katie snapped at us. "I'm fine!"

"We're here to help, Katie," I said calmly.

"Then get me some more pills," she said. "I'm in so much pain!"

"Okay, Katie, okay," I said. "We can try. It's hard, okay? But we can try. We don't want you to be in pain."

"We hate to see you in pain," Kat said.

"It hurts us, too," Rita added.

I had taken a couple steps toward Katie, and the girls continued with their comforting words. Without speaking, the three of us knew what the plan was. Kat and Rita made small talk. They asked Katie how she felt, if she was hungry, if they could get her anything to eat. It seemed to calm her somewhat, but she also had an air of confusion about her. I gradually moved closer to her, until I could pick her up. She squealed in protest again, but I took her to the bed for a second time that way and spooned her.

She had less fight in her right now. I wondered when she had last gotten her fix. Her nose was still runny, and her long-sleeve t-shirt was a crusty mess now. I wondered if I could get her to take a shower. Her breathing drifted into a sleep rhythm more quickly, and I loosened my grip on her. As soon as I did, she tried to wriggle away, so I clamped my legs around her and made her stay still.

"Let me go!" she screamed, sobbing.

"Keep breathing, Katie," I said.

"Fuck off," she said.

Kat and Rita joined me in the bedroom, the former sitting at the head of the bed and the latter sitting at the foot. They provided reinforcements to keep Katie from lashing out destructively. For some reason, despite her stream of hollow profanities, she didn't quite struggle as hard with the girls around. It was as if, consciously or not, she could feel the concern for her emanating from them.

Kat slowly stroked Katie's forehead, pushing a ringlet of oily hair behind her ear. Rita lightly massaged her legs, a soft, motherly touch that simply let her know she was there. They created a cocoon of caring around Katie. And, eventually, she stopped fighting so relentlessly.

It still felt like an eternity when the doctor arrived. He had a nurse and two others with him. The girls watched Katie while I spoke with him outside. I didn't balk when he asked for a wire transfer of half the fee up front. I simply got it done.

He was a genial man in late middle age. He had a worn but caring face, covered in deep laugh lines. His silver hair gave an air of maturity greater than his years. And he had a deep, soothing tone to his voice.

"This isn't something just anyone can do," he told me. "Take some time to get away. Katie's in good hands now. I'll be here twelve hours every day. My associate will take the other twelve. We'll always have a nurse and an orderly with us. Within three or four days, the worst of it should be over. Then the hard part begins, so take this time to get some rest as best you can."

When he spoke, I trusted him. I didn't have any other choice.

***

Four days later, the doctor and his team packed up and left. Katie had been through the hellish terrain of oxy detox. But the doctor told us he had seen much worse cases. Katie only needed some anti-nausea medication to pass through the worst of it, not something like suboxone. Kat and Rita decided to take her for a spa day, which allowed our cleaners the chance to come in and give the guest house a thorough refresh. They went to a nearby hotel for a day of the steam room, sauna, manicures, pedicures, massages, and facials. I promised to cook an appropriate dinner.

Jess had stayed in LA. She said she needed two more days before coming home, although she had described it as coming back. It was consistent with her recent description of LA as home, but it jarred me briefly.

Katie was embarrassed, but the three of us easily took to heart the doctor's orders that we treat her normally and welcome her back into our lives. While having four days to reconnect with Kat and Rita, particularly in long, intimate love-making sessions among the three of us to pass the time, was just what my own body needed, there was a tinge of guilt that hung over us for having such a beautiful time together while Katie suffered.

I drove the girls to the hotel and dropped them at the valet nearest the spa.

"I really should be getting back to work," Katie said for the third time just before I dropped them off.

"No, you don't, girl," Kat said.

"You need to recharge, and then you can worry about getting back to work or anything else when you are in the right state of mind," Rita said.

"I can't believe how sweet you're all being to me," she said. "I don't remember everything, but I'm sure I was awful."

"You can't be awful," I said.

"It wasn't you," Rita emphasized.

"I know there's a long road ahead," Katie said, "but I feel like I can get there with friends like you."

"We're here for you," I said. "Whatever you need."

They piled out of the car, each of them wearing similar yoga outfits.

"Okay, daddy, we'll text you when it's time to pick us up," Kat said, leaning through the window of the G-Wagon. All I wanted to do was kiss her. The tender look on her face made me ache for her.

That evening, I was back at the hotel to get them, and they looked radiant and lively.

"This was the perfect day!" Kat said as they climbed in.

They smelled sweet and floral. Katie had a beaming smile plastered to her face, and seeing it again made me especially happy. There was a flicker of the old mischief in her eyes.

"I'm starving!" Katie said.

"You have no idea how happy it makes us to hear that!" I said with a laugh.

"I can't thank you enough for today," Katie said. "Oh my god, I've just never felt so cared for in my whole life."

"That's what family is for," Rita said without missing a beat.

Kat smiled at me as I glanced in the rearview mirror. Rita put her hand on my thigh and gave it a light squeeze.

"What did you make for us, chef?" Kat asked as the G-Wagon headed for home.

"I've got roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and asparagus with hollandaise sauce," I said.

"That sounds absolutely amazing," Kat gushed.

"Yum!" Rita said.

"That's the first thing that sounded good to me besides oxy in weeks," Katie said.

Initially, we weren't sure whether we should laugh or stay silent, but her own effervescent giggle filled the car, and we all followed.

"Maybe it's weird to say, but I feel so normal again," she said. "The doctor thought that maybe my problem was more a physical dependence than a mental one."

I looked at Rita out of the corner of my eye. Neither of us knew what to say.

"Well, we can skip the wine tonight," Kat said with a nervous edge.

"God, wine sounds amazing to me right now," Katie said. "It's hard to describe. I didn't want the oxy, but I craved it, you know? I didn't particularly care for the way it made me feel. But it just got to the point where I was tired of hurting, and on oxy, it didn't hurt, so I connected the oxy to not hurting."

"Does it hurt now?" Rita asked.

"A little," Katie said. "But honestly not that much. I was so scared of the pain that I lost track of when it might go away."

"That's the nature of oxy," Kat said with more gravitas than I cared to recall. "It envelopes you in this cloud."

Back at the house, we dove into dinner immediately, and the girls instantly affirmed my decision to roast two chickens instead of one. The table was boisterous with conversation and good feelings. The wine flowed very modestly. We all tried to limit ourselves. Katie had one glass.

After dinner, we made ice cream sundaes and curled up on the couch together to watch a cheesy, romantic movie. Before we knew it, it was over, and the sun had gone down.

"I know it's early," Katie said, "but I'm tired. I'm kind of ready to hit the sack."

"We should go relieve the nanny," Rita said.

"She's been a saint today," Kat said. "As usual."

Katie got up, taking empty ice cream bowls to the sink. I followed her and sensed she wanted to say something. Kat and Rita noticed it, too.

"What is it?" Rita asked.

"This is a little awkward, but, um, I kind of don't want to be in the guest house by myself," she said.

"Oh, of course not!" Kat said.

"You should sleep here with us," I said.

"Absolutely," Kat and Rita agreed in harmony.

"Are you sure?" Katie said, the tentativeness of her words endearingly sweet.

"One-hundred percent," I said.

Kat and Rita went upstairs, a bottle of Champagne in tow for a night cap.

"Do you want to watch something else?" Katie suggested.

"Sure," I said. "You pick."

"Anything," she said. "As long as it's funny."

"One man's funny is another woman's garbage," I said.

"Fine," she said. "Just put on Pretty Woman."

"Oh, your autobiography, huh?" I joked.

"Please," Katie said, her voice suddenly sullen. "That's definitely not my story."

"Don't beat yourself up," I said. "Shit happens. Bad shit happens. It's how you respond to the bad shit in the end that defines you."

"I've always done everything myself," she said. "This time, I was helpless. I'd be dead if it weren't for all of you."

"But you're not," I pointed out. "You had the good sense to become part of our lives and make us care about you, so when you needed help? You got help."

"Maybe," Katie said.

The movie started, and she rested her head on my shoulder. She had lost some weight, and she felt fragile as she leaned against me. Her even breathing was deeper now, healthier. I was astonished at how much could change in the span of only a few days. Our conversation became more sporadic as the movie crept along. It was good to hear Katie laugh again. She started to doze off, and I let myself fall back into the arms of fatigue, too.

"I don't know why you picked me," Katie said in a bare whisper, her head resting in my lap.

"Picked you for what?" I asked sleepily.

"Picked me to save," she said.

I leaned closer to her ear and kissed her gently on the temple.

"Because I love you, Katie," I said.