In Ecstasy (17 page)

After two months I was finally leaving rehab, saying goodbye with all kinds of mixed feelings. For weeks I'd been safe, surrounded by people who knew me and accepted what I'd done. The prospect of a drug-free world out there was pretty scary.

At home I sat on my bed in my old room and looked at all my things. The house seemed so big and welcoming. How had I ever seen it as anything else? I had run from this haven to the squalor of Glenn's flat, where everything had appeared beautiful to my bent mind.

It felt like a lifetime ago that this had been home. Mum had collected the stuff I'd left at Dad's, and the picture of me, Jordie and Dad had been returned to its place on my bedside table. I picked it up. The wood was heavy in my hand. I turned it over and took off the back. There was nothing in there. The emptiness made me feel weird. I didn't know what to expect.

I don't know what to expect about anything any more and sometimes I can be fairly pessimistic about the future. I'm scared of what I've done to my body. I find it hard to remember things, short-term and long-term. Sometimes I can be talking and I'll forget what I've just said. I don't know if it's a temporary condition. I hope it's not forever.

And I'm frightened of drugs now. I had this perfectly healthy body that I've damaged. I've created a physical vulnerability in myself that never existed before. Every time I'm with people who take drugs or even smoke and drink I could be at risk. Some people can use drugs and not get burned but I guess I'm not one of them. I don't think the desire will ever leave me. You can't un-know something. And I hope I'm strong enough, though I'm terrified I won't be. Some people have told me you're in recovery forever, and that's a scary future to face.

Next year I'll start year eleven again, at a senior campus where I'll know no one. It'll be a clean slate for me, a chance to try again. I don't want to be judged and seen as a druggie. And I couldn't face my old teachers, knowing they knew where I'd been.

As for Sophie—in rehab she offered me all the support I needed, but out here? I can't expect us to be like we were. And she's got Dominic now. She won't want me hanging around. We've all got to move on.

I tell myself constantly that I've got to face my future positively because I'm lucky to have one. But every day when I wake up, there's also that reminder of what happened. So I open my eyes in my orange-and-pink bedroom and think about the day in front of me. I give myself a few moments to wake up fully before I swing my legs out of bed. There are so many things I haven't done yet. I want to fall in love. I want to have a relationship with a guy who really wants me—without being wasted. And I'd like to listen to music, sober, and see what I really think. I've got this chance to try again.

Something Charlie said sticks in my mind: ‘Drugs became a tradition in my family and I knew my brother didn't have a chance if I couldn't stay off them.'

So I think about Jordie, his innocence and the way he loves his basketball, his model planes. I think about how my use exposed him to that world and the consequences of that terrify me.

I've got a new way of looking at things now. Maryanne said, ‘Ecstasy never created something that wasn't there. It allowed you to see what was inside you.'

I take comfort from that. The Mia I want to be is achievable, she is in me, always was. I just have to believe in her.

And that voice has never left me. It was always mine. Each morning as I face a new day that voice reminds me:
Mia, what have you done?

Party time! Tonight we celebrate Dom being drafted by the West Coast Eagles and his university offer in engineering. He's going to do both, and knowing him he'll do them well. His place has been buzzing for the last two days. The backyard's filled with this marquee that took a crew of about ten guys to erect. I've never seen his mum and dad look so proud, and I'm proud of him too. Look at him, relaxing against the bar like it's all no big deal. Typical Dom.

Here comes Toby carrying two drinks. The orange juice is for Mia. She looks radiant tonight in her blue dress. Dom's dad reckons she reminds him of Audrey Hepburn, and that's the highest compliment he could pay any woman. Audrey Hepburn is his screen idol.

Toby's a sweet guy. They met at Dom's Christmas footy party. I virtually had to drag her there. Every time she goes out in public it's like she's being tested to see if she'll make it. I have to say, it makes me pretty nervous too. I'm terrified of her relapsing. Dom gets on at me and tells me to stop monitoring her. He reckons she could lose it if she thinks we don't trust her, so I try really hard to back off. But I've noticed the way he guards her from other people, especially guys. The fact that Toby made it past the Dom barrier is a good sign, but they're taking things slowly at the moment, just going to movies and barbies and stuff like that. I like to watch Toby watching Mia though, the way he talks to her and laughs at her jokes.

Mia and I don't talk about what happened last year. Sometimes we'll give it a fleeting mention, but after she came out of rehab and I finished the school year things were a bit fragile between us. She was frightened of failing and I was scared that maybe she'd talk herself into not being strong enough. I wanted to be there for her, but she wasn't sure we'd be able to be friends again. I was determined to prove her wrong.

‘Why not?' I asked her one day. ‘Why can't we be best friends again?'

‘Because it'll never be how it was.' She sounded so much older than me.

‘I get that,' I said, ‘but our friendship doesn't have to die.'

She looked at me like I was in fantasyland. ‘It won't be the same.'

‘You're right. It won't be the same. It's called change and it's a good thing. It's life. Like it or not, though, we'll always be friends. Man, together we survived this last year—we can survive anything.'

I'm not keen about all the changes either. So many things got affected, more than either of us imagined, I suppose. When she told me about her plans to go to another school my first thought was that I wanted us to do the year together, like I always imagined we would. But I realised how hard it would be for her to come back to our school and she'd be in the year below me anyway. I considered switching to her new school too, but though she didn't say anything when I suggested it, I sensed she didn't want me to. I got the feeling she was starting to like the prospect of reinventing herself.

Her rehab hasn't all been easy either. Some days she'll text or call me with such urgency that I'll drop what I'm doing to meet her. She'll tell me it was all she could think of, and that thinking about it made her want it even more. Sometimes she'd end up sitting outside a dealer's house, not even knowing how she got there, fighting with herself not to go in, talking her brain into resisting the desire.

She told me how she depended on her reflection, but I didn't get it.

‘Because when I fight it I make myself look in the mirror. Then I see who I am. I have to see me to believe I'm better than all that. I don't need it. I can't go back.'

The urgent longing in her words scares me. Her eyes go dark with desire and she's somewhere else, like she's gone. Sometimes I feel so far out of my depth, I'm scared. I told her counsellor that, but she just encouraged me to be there for her. She said that Mia had all the professional help she needed, and I just had to be her friend.

On the plus side, she's stopped describing herself as an ex-user. The first time she said it aloud, back at the rehab centre, it really startled me.

‘You're not,' I said. And she looked kind of sad.

‘That's what I thought too,' she said, ‘but I am.'

I argued with her, told her to stop being so dramatic. ‘Users end up with it taking over their lives, where their sole purpose is to find the next hit.'
Like them,
I nearly said, looking at all the other patients.

‘It was like quicksand,' she said. ‘I touched it and it sucked me in.'

That's how she'd felt. Totally and utterly controlled.

Oh, you might be interested to know that Dom couldn't resist carrying out a little vendetta. Not long after Mia returned to her mum's, Glenn was raided by the cops and arrested on several drug and sex charges. Dom seemed to know a lot more about it than he was telling. I guess we all have things we like to keep secret.

Here she comes, so I guess that's all. Of course it's not really the end, it's the beginning of the next chapter. One where the possibilities are endless.

‘See that guy over there?' Her eyes gleam as she points to a really good-looking guy talking to Dom's dad. ‘He tried to chat me up.' Her voice can barely contain her excitement. I feel an old sensation rush through me.

‘And?' I say impatiently.

‘He introduced himself.'

‘Yes,' I wait.

‘Jamie,' she says it triumphantly. ‘He's a footballer, like Dom, from the draft.'

‘Jamie?' I repeat it stupidly.

‘Lush.' And now she's laughing loudly, ‘Remember him? Mr Lush?'

‘Oh, my God.' I'm gasping for air. ‘Did he remember you?'

‘Not at first,' she smiles wickedly, ‘but then I told him my name.'

Dom and Toby look our way, smiling. I can't wait to tell Dom this story. ‘What did he do?' I squeak.

‘Looked really embarrassed.' She's composed now, wiping her eyes, preparing herself. I know a Mia story when I hear one. There's a punchline coming. ‘So he says he's gotta go and get a drink.'

‘And?' I'm trying to imagine what she's said to him. But she's too quick for me.

‘I offered to give him a hand.'

My thanks go to the usual suspects, my family and friends, for their constant support and encouragement. Thanks to my students and colleagues at St Stephen's School Carramar who have to answer my questions and listen to my progress reports. I'd like to thank everyone at Fremantle Press, but particularly Janet for helping discover Sophie, and Cate for her unwavering dedication and time. And thank you to all the people who have shared their stories with me.

If someone overdoses or reacts badly to a drug it is important they get professional help as soon as possible. A quick response can save their life.

Kate grew up in Perth's northern suburbs. She has a degree in English and Art and a diploma in Education. She lives in Mariginiup with her partner Jason, their two daughters, two dogs, a cat and a rabbit.

Her first novel,
Destroying Avalon,
was published in 2006. It won the WAYBRA Award for older readers, the Western Australian Premier's Book Award for Young Adults, was a notable book in the Children's Book Council of Australia Book Awards and was highly commended in the Australian Family Therapists Children's Literature Awards.

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