‘A lifesaver.’ Once again I wasn’t exaggerating.

‘Taken as prescribed, they’re non-addictive. Even for a person, such as yourself, with a history of addiction.’

‘Yes. Absolutely.’ For over thirteen years I’d thought differently, but the previous few weeks had changed my mind.

‘Should I add an anti-anxiety medication into the mix?’ he said. ‘How are you with Xanax?’

Suddenly nervous, I said, ‘No, please don’t.’ I didn’t need tranquillizers but I might have taken them anyway. Having them felt dangerous. ‘Just sleeping tablets.’

He seemed surprised. ‘…Okay.’

Next thing, he was printing out a prescription, scribbling a signature and handing it over. ‘You can pay outside.’

It appeared it was time for me to leave. ‘When should I come back?’

‘In a month.’

The reviews had said he was brisk—and he was certainly that. Also expensive—my insurance wouldn’t cover all of his fee. But he’d listened to me, he’d heard me.

I was back out on the street before I saw that he’d doubled Carlotta’s dosage—and I was surprised. But also very grateful. I remembered, then, one of the reviews which had criticized him for ‘throwing pills at the problem’.

But sometimes that was exactly what the problem required.

*

At the end of group, Dennis danced over to me. ‘Rachel, a chara, could I have a wordeen?’

Oh, here we go… ‘Sure. Now suit you?’

‘Down to the ground. And further! Right through to the centre of the earth and…out the other side.’

In a consulting room, he perched on the edge of the chair, fixing his bright eyes on mine. ‘I was thinking about Trassa. About…That’s a desperate thing that happened to her, you wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But, Rachel, wouldn’t I have had a trauma or something?’

‘Maybe you have?’

He perked up. ‘Was it the time Patch won the egg-and-spoon race out from under me nose? There I was, thinking I was coming home to a hero’s welcome and, at the last minute, the little feck whips certain victory from me grasp.’

Steadily, I eyeballed him.

‘But, Rachel, being serious, like. If that’s the worst thing I can think of, there isn’t anything there.’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘That, well, it makes sense, doesn’t it, that Trassa would get addicted to something. Cause and effect, like. But with me, there’s no cause. So no effect.’ His curls bounced as he sat up and announced, ‘So I can’t be an alcoholic!’

‘Oh, Dennis.’ In less tragic circumstances, it would actually be funny. ‘Trassa is Trassa. But everyone is unique. People are addicts or alcoholics for all kinds of reasons and some for no reason at all. No obvious one, anyway.’

He cocked his head. ‘How d’you mean?’