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Description
Addiction. That was the client of today. I was asked by next-of-kin to go to a young man in a narcotics rehab clinic. He had been hooked on heroin for two and a half years now, and returned twice to the clinic. The family said no one had the patience to be with him, so they hoped that I would consent to speaking to him. I had agreed.

"Hello, Marcus. I'm here to keep you company for a while. What do you think about that?"
   Marcus looked up at me. His gaze was unfocused, eyes darting back and forth. They settled on me hastily. "Who're you?"
   "I'm just someone who likes talking to people, and your family asked me to pay you a visit. That was nice of them, wasn't it? They seem like a good family, aren't they?"
   "Family." He murmured the word so that I could scarcely hear it.
   "So, Marcus, what do you want to talk about today? We have a whole hour to ourselves."
   He kept fingering at his clothes, that were ragged and did not look as if they'd been washed in months. "I need…" Still that murmuring voice.
   "Yes?"
   "I know what I need…"
   "What do you need, Marcus?"
   "I know what I need!"
   "Tell me, and I might be able to help you."
   "You will help…me?"
   "If I can."
   "I need…I need…a fix."
   Ah. Of course. Well, this was going to be tricky, but not impossible.
   "I can't give you a fix, Marcus. Remember, you're here to get clean, isn't that right?
   "I need a fix," he mumbled quietly.
   "Let's talk about something else. Maybe I can help you there. Tell me about you family. Are they-"
   "NO!"
   "No? Why not? Don't you like your family?"
   "No. NO! They left me here. Left me. No family, no one left. Here alone, I am, all alone…no family, gone, gone…" Marcus began rocking back and forth.
   "So you're upset that they left you here? But don't you think it's because your own good? They seemed so worried about you when I spoke to them. They sent me here to help you. They clearly care about you."
   "I need a fix."
   Hm. Perhaps this was some kind of defense mechanism. "Okay, Marcus, I won't push the subject. Shall we talk about something else, then? How about your drawings?" I had noticed art on the walls of Marcus' room. They were quite skillfully made, but so full of angst. They were pictures of himself, and dark shades gathering around him.
   "How long have you been drawing?"
   "Forever. And ever. And ever. And…ever."
   "Ah. That must be why you're so good at it." I smiled.
   "I like making pictures. They don't lie."
   "They don't? Who lies, Marcus?"
   "FIX!"
   "Okay, you don't want to talk about it." I suspected he referred to his family. They had brought him here under false pretenses the first time, saying it was a clinic treating depression.
   "No more." Marcus continued to rock back and forth.
   "We've only just got started. Don't you think-?"
   "GO!"
   I drew a deep breath. "All right. I'll go. Maybe we'll meet at another time then. Take care, Marcus."
   "Leave…go…go…"

I left Marcus, whose eyes darted up and down, as if assessing a threat between the walls. He didn't even look at me as I left the room. I wasn't offended, having had too many conversations with different kinds of people to upset me. I had a feeling Marcus and I would meet again. In fact, I was sure of it.

Description
Addiction. That was the client of today. I was asked by next-of-kin to go to a young man in a narcotics rehab clinic. He had been hooked on heroin for two and a half years now, and returned twice to the clinic. The family said no one had the patience to be with him, so they hoped that I would consent to speaking to him. I had agreed.

"Hello, Marcus. I'm here to keep you company for a while. What do you think about that?"
   Marcus looked up at me. His gaze was unfocused, eyes darting back and forth. They settled on me hastily. "Who're you?"
   "I'm just someone who likes talking to people, and your family asked me to pay you a visit. That was nice of them, wasn't it? They seem like a good family, aren't they?"
   "Family." He murmured the word so that I could scarcely hear it.
   "So, Marcus, what do you want to talk about today? We have a whole hour to ourselves."
   He kept fingering at his clothes, that were ragged and did not look as if they'd been washed in months. "I need…" Still that murmuring voice.
   "Yes?"
   "I know what I need…"
   "What do you need, Marcus?"
   "I know what I need!"
   "Tell me, and I might be able to help you."
   "You will help…me?"
   "If I can."
   "I need…I need…a fix."
   Ah. Of course. Well, this was going to be tricky, but not impossible.
   "I can't give you a fix, Marcus. Remember, you're here to get clean, isn't that right?
   "I need a fix," he mumbled quietly.
   "Let's talk about something else. Maybe I can help you there. Tell me about you family. Are they-"
   "NO!"
   "No? Why not? Don't you like your family?"
   "No. NO! They left me here. Left me. No family, no one left. Here alone, I am, all alone…no family, gone, gone…" Marcus began rocking back and forth.
   "So you're upset that they left you here? But don't you think it's because your own good? They seemed so worried about you when I spoke to them. They sent me here to help you. They clearly care about you."
   "I need a fix."
   Hm. Perhaps this was some kind of defense mechanism. "Okay, Marcus, I won't push the subject. Shall we talk about something else, then? How about your drawings?" I had noticed art on the walls of Marcus' room. They were quite skillfully made, but so full of angst. They were pictures of himself, and dark shades gathering around him.
   "How long have you been drawing?"
   "Forever. And ever. And ever. And…ever."
   "Ah. That must be why you're so good at it." I smiled.
   "I like making pictures. They don't lie."
   "They don't? Who lies, Marcus?"
   "FIX!"
   "Okay, you don't want to talk about it." I suspected he referred to his family. They had brought him here under false pretenses the first time, saying it was a clinic treating depression.
   "No more." Marcus continued to rock back and forth.
   "We've only just got started. Don't you think-?"
   "GO!"
   I drew a deep breath. "All right. I'll go. Maybe we'll meet at another time then. Take care, Marcus."
   "Leave…go…go…"

I left Marcus, whose eyes darted up and down, as if assessing a threat between the walls. He didn't even look at me as I left the room. I wasn't offended, having had too many conversations with different kinds of people to upset me. I had a feeling Marcus and I would meet again. In fact, I was sure of it.