I entered the room, although it was only 3’O’Clock in the afternoon the room was in semi-darkness. In the corner a lamp did it's best to fight against the gloom.
Ed was sitting at a desk, with a chair placed at the side of it., I sat down.
I liked Ed, for a drug counsellor he was surprisingly straight forward. There was no bullshit in him, he didn't spout the usual self help bollocks at you. He treated you like a normal person, a human being. Most drug counsellors treat you like a child, or as if you were retarded.
Because your choices in life weren't the same as theirs, they assumed that you must be stupid, or I don't know, just plain crazy or….. I don't know, I could never work out what those people were thinking.
"How're things, Ed?" I asked.
"The question is, Ian, how are things with you?"
"Not bad, Ed, could be better, could be worse."
"Have you been using though, Ian?"
"Unfortunately so, Ed, unfortunately so."
"Oh dear, Ian, what's happened this time?"
It really pissed me off this question, it's the same thing every time.
I feel like saying "Well, you know, Ed, it's the same thing that's been happening for the last 27 years. I struggle to face reality without a little help from something. It doesn't matter what it is, it could be alcohol, smack, crack, downers, speed. Whatever. I just think that life is sad, it's just too sad to face it straight.,"
Of course I don't say this, I come up with some crappy excuse why I have used in the last month or so since I last saw him.
Anyway the meeting goes on, both of us making the noises that we're supposed to. Him trying his best to do his job. I try to make him feel like he is getting somewhere in his work.
After half an hour of this charade, the meeting is over. We make arrangements to meet again in a month or two, I tell him that I will do my best to be straight.
We shake hands, I leave.
As I'm walking across the car park I take out my mobile phone, punch in a number.
It rings several times, a Scouse voice answers “Alright, Ian, what are yer after?"
"The usual, mate."
About Ian Copestick:
Ian Lewis Copestick is a 46 year old writer from Stoke on Trent England, so far he has published 45 poems in 10 different ezines. He intends to keep going for as long as he can, and hopes that someday soon a publisher will take a chance and bring out his first book.