Powder [phan]

IX

"Why weren't you there?" I faced him and tried to convey that I was in no way in the mood for fun. Getting drunk was definitely not part of his withdrawal program and I tried to hide how worried and at the same time really angry I was.

"Because they're all idiots." he mumbled, pulling his scarf awkwardly to get rid of it. Then he started to take off his jacket, but I knew it would take him a while.

"At least they try to stay clean and don't get drunk. Do you think that's good for you?" I kept talking to him, definitely, but I couldn't prevent my worry from being heard in my voice.

"Yes, yes, you're right. But I really don't feel like sitting in a room with a couple of depressed idiots." He said and threw the jacket off when he finally managed to take it off.

He looked at me for a while before he dropped back onto the couch. The bottle he had brought was on the coffee table and I should have taken it away, but I didn't.

"Why are you here, Dan?"

He didn't look at me, had his head back and stared at the ceiling while his hands were folded in his lap.

"Are you high?" I had my eyes closed when I asked this question. I didn't want to know, honestly not, but I had to ask.

"No." He gave an answer and I believed him. Maybe he was just really drunk, which wasn't much better to be honest.

"Dan, you can't just skip meetings and get drunk. That's not how things work here." I tried to talk to him again, to act as if I were a good friend and had only the slightest hint of how I should help him.

"You have no idea how any of this shit works." He muttered, probably didn't even want me to hear. But I heard it, but I said nothing about it, because I simply didn't know what. What should I have said? How should I have gotten a shitty answer at two o'clock in the morning? "If you tell Oliver I'm here, I'll kill you."

"I wasn't going to tell him." That was half-truth. The thought actually crossed my mind, but I quickly decided against it. As always. I don't think putting him back in the clinic would help him. I wanted to help him.

Dan nodded, seemed satisfied with my answer. He seemed to be thinking about something, but I didn't ask him what it was. I was afraid to ask him anything. As if he was going to freak out immediately or hate me or both. I was overwhelmed with the situation, knew that I should help him, but also that I couldn't lose him under any circumstances. But it was starting to feel like I wasn't going to succeed in either plan. He was like sand that ran through my fingers. I literally felt how I lost him, how he ran away from me.

He had been here recently, with me. We had a fucking cake for his birthday. He seemed to be doing better and now we were here, months later, and he seemed to be doing worse than ever.

This sight broke my heart. I doubted myself, all decisions. Should I have told Oliver earlier, should I have visited him more often, should I have insisted on seeing him? What should I do now?

"Dan, what are you doing here?" I asked again, tearing him out of his thoughts. He raised his head to look at me and there was nothing left of the Dan I had seen a few weeks ago. He was so far away. Hardly palpable.

"I wanted to see you." He said in a rough voice, reaching for the bottle.

"Please don't drink anything anymore. For today. Please." For an eternity he just looked at me, seemed to be based on it, but then he simply put the bottle back down, which surprised me. He swallowed hard and sank back into the couch.

"You are the only one who can do that. That's why I didn't want to see you in the clinic anymore."

"What exactly?"