I had been looking at the clock every five minutes for at least half an hour, and it seemed like time wasn't running. Normally I'm one of those people who are overwhelmed by the time passing quickly, but today it was the only thing I wanted. Finally the clock struck half past five in the afternoon. I got up from the couch at full speed and walked out the door, but not before checking my appearance in the mirror. I had decided to wear a white top, blue jeans and black Converse. I hadn't put on any makeup, as I was probably going to cry a lot that afternoon.
After a car ride that took forever, I finally arrived at the rehab center. I got out of the car and headed for the door. Once inside, I approached the woman sitting behind the desk.
"Good afternoon, how can I help you?" She asked me with a smile on her lips.
I smiled too, "Hi, I'm Jane Graham. I'm Alexander McLean's partner."
"Oh, right. Today was his last day, wasn't it?" I nodded. " That's good to hear. If you'd like you can sit there and wait. It won't be long before he's out."
I thanked her and sat down in one of the chairs there. It wasn't the first time I had been there, I had been there a couple of times in two months. But I had never gone alone; the first time Alex's mom went with me, and the second time, Kevin and Brian came along with me. And the reason I had always gone with someone else was because I knew that if I had found myself alone in front of my boyfriend, I wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears.
Alex and I had met about three years ago through mutual friends. Apparently, he liked me from the beginning, and no matter how hard I tried to play hard on him, it wasn't long before I fell at his feet. Alex had come into my life at a time when I had lost all faith in love, and with his smile, his good humor and his loving nature he made me believe again. And then everything went wrong.
Alex drank a lot, maybe too much, but I didn't care at first. Later I realized that he was using alcohol to avoid his problems, and that's when I started to worry. But alcohol wasn't the only problem. I'll never forget the night I found him in our living room, drunk with his friends, snorting cocaine. Whenever I tried to talk to him about it, he would tell me that I was being paranoid and that he had it all under control. He would not only say that to me, but also to the boys and his family.
But the straw that broke the camel's back was that night when he went out partying and I stayed home. Well into the wee hours of the morning, I called him on the phone, but he didn't answer. So I got out of bed, got dressed and went to look for him at one of his friends' house. When I knocked on the door and asked his friend about him, he told me that he had taken too much cocaine and had had, in his words "A little overdose, but he's fine now." I swear I have never felt so scared in my life. I managed to get into the house and he was in one of the bedrooms, totally pale and covered in cold sweat, though conscious. And at that moment I broke down. I burst into disconsolate tears, fell to my knees in front of him and asked him, begged him to let me get help. I told him that I could not continue to watch his life shatter. I think that was the first time he really saw how much it affected me that he was an addict, so he agreed to go to rehab for two months.
