Chapter 198 Trouble in paradise.

Chapter 198 Trouble in paradise.
CHAPTER 198
Trouble in paradise.
SAINT
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“He would have fought the fates for you. Poets, they can be soldiers, too – Pinterest.”
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“What can I do for you, Mr Larue? Or should I call you Saint?” 

Dr Tate Hazelwood turns out to be a man in his early forties, with expensive glasses and a calm demeanour, but his words are sharp enough, reminding me of the no-bullshit methodology Ivy mentioned. 

“You can call me Saint.” I shift in the seat, fiddling with my hands. His practice is huge. He is a big deal, and I should have done my research before showing up in sweatpants and a faded blue tee. I feel out of place. I smooth my hair, but that does nothing. He is smart enough to see through my restlessness. 

“Why are you here, Saint? What do you need my help for?” He doesn’t look away. I feel dissected and left on the table to be observed, even though we are the only ones in the room. 

After a moment of silence, I clear my throat. “I want to get clean, and stay clean.” 

“Why?” He asks immediately, face remaining blank. 

“Because I have been an addict for as long as I can remember. I want to see what life can be without my addiction hanging over my head. I want to make it to University. I want …” I swallow thickly, cheeks burning. “I want another chance.” 

He nods and makes a note. 

“Dr Ivy gave me a rundown of your substance-use history, but I’ll like to hear it from you. To save our time, here is what I want to know – the exact substances you’ve used, the amounts, frequency, durations, and how you used them. As well as the age of your first use, patterns, last use of each substance, previous attempts to quit, and what happened during those attempts.” He lists them out carefully. 

I nod, and explain everything to him. Oddly enough, I find myself comfortable enough to talk about it. It had always worried me to talk about my father and his abuse, because it was shameful, but now I know the shame isn’t mine. It is all his. 

“Where is your father now?” He raises his brow, something flickering in his eyes, gone before I can place it. 

“He is in prison,” I respond with a shrug. 

He nods and flips the page. “Good. Putting that aside, how do you feel now? I assume the withdrawal has set in.” 

“Oh, yes, it has.” I run my hand over the nape of my neck. “I’m restless, as you can see. I haven’t been eating well or sleeping properly. My boyfriend helps me sleep at night, but it is a mess during the day. I want to sleep to avoid the withdrawal symptoms, but the hunger won’t let me sleep. The annoying part is, I’m not sure what the hunger is for, because I haven’t been eating, so am I hungry for food, or just craving the pills? It is a mess, to be honest.” 

“How are you getting through it? Any assistance? You mentioned your boyfriend. Did he bring you here today?” He looks up from the book. 

My cheeks burn. I hadn’t even realised I mentioned Reid’s name.

“Yes, I am getting enough assistance. My mom, sister, and Ivy are a wonderful support system. Tom, too, and of course, Reid.” I choose my words carefully, but I should have known I couldn't hide anything from a professional. 

“Did Reid drive you here?” He asks again, watching me like a hawk. 

“No.” I shake my head. “He didn’t. He wanted to come with, but I took a cab instead.” 

“Why? Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head and drops his pen. 

I bite my lip, hesitating for a few seconds. “I wouldn’t say trouble in paradise, per se, just that sometimes, I get all up in my head, coming to the worst conclusions about things which shouldn’t matter. I’m hungry, irritated and restless. I don’t want to put that on him. He is his own person, with his own life. I shouldn’t drag him down with my issues.” 

“I am not a therapist, Saint.” Dr Tate informs me. “But from what Dr Ivy has explained, Reid needs you as much as you need him, and pushing him away might be counterproductive. You should know that I am not going to work magic for you. You are not going to be miraculously clean in a few months. That is not possible. What we are going to do is this – meet up once a week to discuss progress, safety, risk and your support systems.” 

“There is limited evidence for getting clean from cannabis, cocaine and pills. What we can do is continue your therapy sessions with Ivy, add structured counselling, manage your symptoms efficiently, follow-up visits and lifestyle support. We also have to be realistic because sometimes, you might slip up, sometimes the urge might become overwhelming, and you find yourself sinking into previous routine – that is fine and expected, but it is very important for you to remember why you are doing this, not for Reid, or your mom, but for you, so whenever your relationship is threatened, your decision to be clean wouldn’t be.” He is straightforward, and I like it. 

“I’ll give you my contact information, which means you can reach me anytime. In the middle of the night, even during holidays. If things worsen between visits, always reach out for help. It is not your duty to carry this alone. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t want to help you. Reid wouldn’t be with you if he didn’t want to. Ivy wouldn’t have referred you to me if she didn’t want to. You have to change the mentality that people are only doing what they do for you because they have to. No, they want to. We want to.” His words slither between my sternum and press against my heart. 

I nod slowly, cheeks prickling. “Okay, thank you.” 

“We need to do a few physical exams before we continue. I hope you aren’t squirmish with needles and blood?” He smiles softly. 

A shudder goes through me because I am, and he laughs. “Don’t worry, we only need one vial for basic bloodwork. It’ll sting for a second, and you’ll be done.” 

“Alright.” I nod, getting up. 

He leads me out of his office to a separate room where a nurse is waiting for him. The whole lab work takes a few minutes, and I return to his office where we work out the schedule. He gets the results, and we go through them together. Luckily, the prolonged usage hasn’t done irreversible damage to me, and we can find our way around it. 

The session lasts for ten more minutes before I head out, only to see Reid waiting for me in the lobby. 

My heart skips a beat, and my mouth parts in surprise. 

“Hi, wanna go for a drive?” He asks, hands in his pockets.