Cassidy
“This is our dining area. You should come out here for all your meals,” Ronald March was saying as he brought the new guy around the facility.
I had seen enough tours of our swanky Aspen drug and alcohol rehabilitation center that I could probably have given the tour myself if I had to. Mr. March was dressed in a custom-tailored suit and looked more like a celebrity stylist than the manager of a drug rehab center. But then again, our drug rehab center wasn’t exactly like the ones you would see on television.
My heart flipped as I looked at the man Mr. March was giving a tour to. My initial thought was that he must be famous. His deeply-tanned skin was covered with a scruffy beard, and he was wearing a winter beanie hat that probably cost more than I earned in a week.
A guy like that showing up at our treatment center wasn’t all that unusual. We were a high-end facility that cost a lot of money. But what caught me about this guy was his general level of casualness. He seemed comfortable in our facility, more like he was on a tour of a candy factory than a drug and alcohol treatment facility. I had to wonder if he was even the patient or perhaps instead he was the agent to someone famous. That wouldn’t be unusual.
But no, Mr. March had said “you” when he talked about where to eat, so the man must be a new patient. Secretly, I was happy to have such a handsome guy around; it was fun to have a little eye candy when we were busy working such long shifts.
The whole room paused and watched as the two men made their way through the dining area. It was an open area with several tables, each seating two or four people. Most of the patients were already out of the rooms and waiting for their meals; watching a new patient get his orientation was something to keep them busy with while they waited.
People paid thousands of dollars to hide away at Paradise Peak. Many of our clients were famous actors, musicians, and children of the rich. So, I wasn’t exactly surprised at my physical reaction to seeing the man. Hot guys were just as susceptible to addition as ugly guys were.
But there was something different about this one, something in his eyes that seemed genuinely lost. At Paradise Peak, people had the opportunity to work on mental health issues, drug issues, and alcohol issues – and many people had them all. Some celebrities even came to spend a week and just get away from all the people trying to control their lives.
“Hi, Brad, are you ready for some delicious stuffed chicken?” I asked as I brought a tray over to one of my patients for the day.
“What’s it stuffed with?”
“I don’t know.” I laughed.
“I don’t eat things if I don’t know what they are stuffed with. Come back when you know what’s in it.”
Brad seemed like he had Asperger’s syndrome or some form of autism that had never officially been diagnosed. Although, his behavior could have been from being spoiled all his life just as easily as it could have been an official disorder.
“Sure thing; how about I leave the applesauce and salad for you right now, and I’ll bring the rest back after I talk to the cook? Will that work?”
“Whatever.”
Brad Hanson was a musician and child celebrity who had frequented Paradise Peak for as long as I had worked there. Over the two years I had known him, I witnessed just what addiction could do to a man, and it made me so sad. Brad was forty-two years old and all alone. In his prime, he had been in a boy band that had been very popular in the ’90s, but in recent years, cocaine had taken over his life. He had also been part of a sitcom that ran for many years after his band broke up. All that happened before he turned twenty-five.
Most of the other technicians that worked on my unit didn’t like to deal with Brad, so inevitably I ended up caring for him whenever I worked.
As a technician, my job was to make the stay more comfortable for our patients. Sometimes I called them clients, and sometimes Mr. March asked us to call people our guests. But it didn’t matter what people were called, they were at our facility to deal with their demons and hopefully get better during their time with us.
Brad was rude and often mean, but there was an honesty to him that hit home with me. I didn’t mind his attitude and found him quite enjoyable when he sobered up and got to the end of his stays at our facility.
Nothing much usually bothered me while I was at work. I didn’t take insults personally, and I was patient with people and knew that they would eventually become friendlier.
Drugs and alcohol had a way of changing how someone dealt with life and the people in it. So, when a patient arrived who had to go through detox and withdrawals, I felt it was my responsibility to make that process as comfortable as possible. Trust me, they were going to go through enough pain and uncomfortable feelings; they didn’t need me to have an attitude with them, as well.
“Is Brad giving you a hard time?” Kaitlin asked as I returned to the back room with the tray of food. “I don’t know why you even try with that guy. He’s never nice.”
“Oh, you know Brad. I need to go talk to Chef Alexander and find out what the chicken is stuffed with before Brad will eat it.”
“Just give it to me. I’ll tell him what it’s stuffed with,” Kaitlin said as she reached for the tray.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind going and finding out. It will make him feel better, and that’s all that matters.”
“You’re way too nice to him. He’s a drug seeker who’s not interested in getting better. I don’t know why you baby him like you do. He’s not even nice to you.”
Brad wasn’t a drug seeker in my eyes, though. To me, he was just an addict who didn’t know how to cope with even the simplest of things in his life. He had popped a pill or drank some alcohol anytime he felt bad for as long as he could remember; it was going to take some time for him to truly learn new coping skills.
“I’ll be right back,” I said as I headed down the hallway. “Can you start handing out the other trays, please?”
“I guess. But if they don’t like it, that’s just too bad.”