Spin by Catherine McKenzie Read Free Book Online

to do it. Instead, he
gave me a set of guidelines.
    “The way I see it, Kid, anything that comes from
the ground is OK,” my father said. “It’s that manufactured shit, pardon my
French, that gets people in trouble. If you can consume it in its natural state,
and never tell your mother I said this, I don’t see why you can’t experiment a
little.”
    I stared at him from the middle of my beanbag
chair. “What are you talking about, Dad?”
    “I’m talking about pot, hash, and ’shrooms. If you
stick to those, you should be OK. Not that I’m telling you to take them. But if
you decide to do drugs, those are the drugs you should use.”
    “OK,” I said, feeling freaked out. Did my dad just
tell me it was OK to use drugs? Rory wasn’t going to believe this.
    To date, I’ve followed his advice. I may have done
a little pot, hash, or ’shrooms back in the day, but I’ve never ventured any
further down the yellow brick road.
    “What’s the matter, Katie?” Dr. Houston says.
    “I think I want to do this on my own. You know,
without chemical help, or whatever. Isn’t that the point?”
    “It’s absolutely the point. But your addiction is
more than psychological, it’s physical. And if you can’t make it through the
physical part, you’ll never get a chance to work on the rest.”
    I stare back into the cup, looking at the pills as
if they might tell me what to do.
    Why are you hesitating
now?
    It’s just . . .
    Spit it out!
    I didn’t think I’d begin my first day in rehab
expanding the list of drugs I’ve taken.
    Will you stop being such a
priss!
    I upend the cup and dry-swallow the pills. They
leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
    “You can get dressed now, Katie. I’ll see you again
in a couple of days.”
    He leaves, and Carol returns with a set of soft
cotton pajamas that are a size too big for me. I change into them, and she takes
me to my room. As we walk down a long corridor, my slippers make a shuffling
sound on the hardwood floor. I realize I haven’t seen another patient since I
arrived.
    “Where is everyone?” I ask.
    “There’s group therapy every afternoon.”
    Joy.
    “Here we are.” She opens a door. The room behind it
looks like a dorm room. There’s a single bed with a simple blue cover on it
underneath a barred window, a fold-out suitcase rack supporting my suitcase at
its foot, and a small bedside table. A stainless-steel kidney pan sits on the
simple chest of wooden drawers. The air smells clean and slightly
institutional.
    “The bathroom is two doors down. If you need
assistance, you can push the button here.” She points to a white button set into
the wall above the bedside lamp. “This will be your room until you finish
detoxing. Meals will be brought to you three times a day. Do you have any
questions?”
    I look around the tiny room. “Am I supposed to stay
here the whole three days?”
    “Most patients generally do, but if you want to go
outside, let me know.” She takes a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “This
is the treatment schedule you’ll be following over the next thirty days. Let me
know if you have any questions.”
    I take it from her. “Thanks.”
    “I suggest you get some rest.”
    “Right.”
    “Everything will be all right now, Katie.”
    Oh God. Is she going to hug me? I’m so not into
hugging strangers.
    Carol squeezes me tightly to her. She smells
faintly of lilac, like my grandmother does, which is pretty odd for someone who
seems my age. I know I’m supposed to put my arms around her, but I can’t bring
myself to do it. Instead, I stand there until she releases me.
    After she leaves, I lean over the bed to look
through the window at the daffodil-ringed courtyard. The grounds are empty and
peaceful.
    I sit on the bed and unfold the piece of paper
Carol gave me. It’s a thirty-day events calendar. I have a larger, erasable
version on my own wall at home left over from university. Only, instead of
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