Slow Burn(28)

    “It sounds horrible,” I said.

    “I came in there with memories,” he said. “People who hurt me. Op Wraith taught me how to turn any target into an old bully. So that when I took down the man they told me to take down, it felt personally satisfying every time. Like I got to kill that bastard over and over.” His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “I fight that. If I have to kill, I want to feel like I’m killing the person I’m actually killing, for the reasons I have to.”

    I wasn’t sure what to say. I felt for Griffin. Not for the first time, I thought that his life had been needlessly difficult. I wished there was a way I could sooth him, make things better for him. But I had no idea what to do. I put my hand on his arm.

    “Don’t.” His voice cracked.

    “You killed just now because of me,” I said softly. “I know that. I know I can’t ever repay that. Thank you, Griffin.”

    “You don’t gotta say things like that.” He pulled his arm out of my reach.

    “I’m not saying it because I have to.” I leaned back in my seat. “All of this was my fault. I threw a tantrum, and I put myself in danger. All so I could get this.” I took the bag of coke out of my pocket.

    It was stained in my blood. I found myself wondering if I could wash it off somehow. If the drug would still be good.

    “I have a problem,” I said.

    “The coke?” he said. “Yeah. You could say that.”

    “I think I need help,” I said. “I don’t want to live like this anymore. If you’re going to keep saving my life, I want to have a life that’s worth saving.”

    “That mean you’re going to stop fighting me on everything?”

    For a guy who was feeling all uncomfortable with my gratitude, he sure bounced back quickly. But he was right, I did make things harder for him. And I was realizing that only made things harder for myself. “I promise I’ll stop fighting. I’ll wear boring brown clothes to class. I’ll come straight home. I won’t go to bars. And I’ll do my best to stop using cocaine. I want to be officially done. Go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings or something.”

    “Okay,” he said. “I know some people it’s worked wonders for. Let’s lie low for a little bit, and we’ll figure out where the closest meeting is.”

* * *

    I fell asleep in the car before we got back to Thomas. Griffin took us on a winding, roundabout course all over the area, apparently so that if there was anyone besides Matt there, they wouldn’t be able to follow us home.

    Even so, once we were back in my apartment, we had to be careful. From the phone call they’d traced in Cumberland, they’d figured out the general area where I was. Griffin didn’t think that they’d narrowed it down too much, not if they only knew that I’d been buying drugs in Morgantown. But it was always better to be cautious, according to Griffin. So, we didn’t leave the house for two days. He said that if they knew where we were, they’d strike during that time, and if nothing happened, I could go back to class.

    We spent that two days getting everything out of the apartment that had anything to do with cocaine.

    Luckily, blow is not one of those drugs that requires a whole lot of accoutrements to use, so it wasn’t like getting rid of my whole life. But it wasn’t easy either. I did have two cute little coke spoons I’d gotten in Boston. They had to be thrown away. And I found lots of tiny bags stashed around the house. They were my emergency stashes, and I’d put them there a long time ago. They were there for the times when you get to the end of a bag, and you’re like, “Damn, I wish I had more coke. Just another hit or two.” I had made it so I always had another hit. Somewhere.

    It took forever to find all of them.

    Griffin helped. He wasn’t angry or anything, and he didn’t make fun. He just helped me clean things up. And when I reminded him, he helped me look for a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

    The closest place was Grafton. They had meetings on Thursdays at 7:30 at the Blueville Church of God.

    We went.

    The meeting was in a room they used for Sunday School or something. It had one of those felt boards up on the wall, with little pictures of felt Jesus and Mary and a whale. Maybe the Jesus was actually Jonas. Or whatever the guy’s name was who got swallowed by the whale.