Tetrazzini nodded gravely. “She almost died. An addiction to self-punishment and bad-company that almost proved her end. Very fortunate I found her, very fortunate indeed.”
“But all better now. Infection gone, addiction gone, pain gone. All that’s left is scars.” She rolled up one of her sweater sleeves revealing an arm criss-crossed with a thousand cuts, ranging from tiny splinter sized incisions to long deep gouges. One stood out against the rest, being deeper and fresher than most.
They seemed oddly familiar.
Beth gave the Mariner a couple of seconds to take in the sight, before rolling the sleeve back down. “I’ll let the doctor finish showing you around. I would say good luck, but by finding this place, you’ve already got all the luck in the world.” Beth turned and made her way back to the bench where the girl still sat.
“And her?” the Mariner asked, gesturing towards the child. “Another patient? How many do you have?”
“Her? No!” Doctor Tetrazzini laughed. “Good heavens, no. She has no addiction, unless you include her sweet tooth! That’s my daughter. Grace, come over here and say hello!”
The name made his lungs seize with a claw-like grip.
Grace.
The girl looked up from the book and reluctantly came to her father’s call. Beth retrieved her paperback as they passed, warmly swatting the child on the arm for losing her page.
Tetrazzini chuckled. “I’m so glad we found this place. Being on the move is no way for a child to live.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Three years, round about. Before then we had no home, like most I guess, we wandered.”
The Mariner tried to keep up with the conversation, but was still haunted by the ominous name. Surely he shouldn’t be surprised to come across it again; after all, names were common. But to come across someone sharing the name he’d given his first devil? The one whose death was nailed to his conscience?
And then something else puzzled him. When had he named Grace? And when he had, why pick that name above all others?
“Grace, say hello to our new guest.”
“Hello,” Grace gave a little half-hearted wave and then ran down the path, between some trees, startling a squirrel which broke from the undergrowth.
“Kids,” Tetrazzini rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, she’s rather shy with strangers, but once you’ve been here a week or so, you won’t be able to shut her up.”
“That’s ok,” the Mariner mumbled, still mulling over the coincidence and staring at the foliage through which the girl had vanished.
“You asked me how many patients I have. Well, as you can see, my rehab unit appears small, but on the inside its economical with the space. We can house up to five guests at once, though at the moment we only have three. You’re the fourth.”
“We?”
“Yes, myself and Grace. We run the centre together. The only other patient you haven’t met is Donna; she’s in the infirmary. ”
The Mariner sighed, looking about the grounds with a mixture of content, envy, and the unease of chemical dependency. “You have a wonderful place here, doctor. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Nonsense.” Tetrazzini put his arm around him and began to lead inside. “Thank me once you’re better. You, the patient, are all that’s important. It is addiction that turns man into beast, and when you’re free of that, you’ll be amazed at what you can achieve.”
The Mariner allowed himself to be led, stomach fluttering with excitement. Perhaps it was his addiction that had dragged him down, stopped him from finding the island he’d been searching for all this time? No wonder every day felt like a curse! He had a disease, an affliction; once it was cured he would be free of his sins. Free to start anew.
They passed back into the cool building and into a study. It took a few seconds for the Mariner’s eyes to adjust from the glare of the sun to the shade inside. Finally colours seeped into his vision and the room revealed itself. Like the previous, the study was furnished with comforts the Mariner had only dreamed of. Every surface was clean, every chair cushioned. In the corner was a white humming box that when opened spilled out gloriously cool air.
“We’re going to start your treatment right away,” said Tetrazzini as he reached inside.
“Really?” The Mariner was thinking of that last drink he’d been hoping for. “I thought I might… settle in for a bit before we got going?”
“Nonsense, no time like the present.” And then, to the Mariner’s horror, he saw what the doctor had pulled from the box. A beer. “It’s cold,” Tetrazzini said, seemingly unaware of the torture he was inflicting. “We have a generator here, so there’s electricity to run the lights and cool the fridge. Take it.”
Drops of moisture ran down the glass, mirroring the saliva that flowed in the Mariner’s mouth.
“Is this a test? Am I expected to resist already?” The Mariner closed his eyes in misery. Every fibre of his being was screaming for the drink, egging him on to seize the bottle and drain it in an instant. Only then would the pain in his stomach and his head cease.
He began to tremble, and would have continued to if not for the comforting hand he felt placed upon his shoulder.
“Open your eyes my friend. It’s no test. We do not teach abstinence here. In fact, it’s necessary for your treatment that you do drink. First, take this pill.” Tetrazzini put the bottle on his desk and pulled a small capsule out his breast pocket. It rattled as he unscrewed the top and shook out a single white pill into his palm.
Still shivering, the Mariner tried to tear his eyes away from the cold beverage. “What is it?”
“An innovation of mine. Blending traditional beta-blockers with Ibogaine extracts. I meant it when I said you need to keep drinking to lose your addiction. It works thus: every time you ever drank alcohol, it reinforced the addiction in your brain. In your neurons. It is that connection that needs to be severed. And with these pills it can be. I want you to take one every time you drink. And every time you do, you will lose a little bit more the need to do it again, until one day the addiction will be completely gone.” He flexed his hands like a magician disappearing a rabbit.
“And I’ll never drink again?”
“You’ll never need to drink again. That’s the beauty of this drug: you can still drink! In fact you could drink yourself silly every day for twenty years, but if you take this pill every time you do, you’ll never become addicted. You’ll never have dependency. It is addiction, not action, that causes a man to become a beast.”
“It sounds too simple.”
Tetrazzini laughed. “Yes, yes it does, doesn’t it? But the best solutions often are, aren’t they? Drink! Drink my friend, you’re in good care. Other doctors preach abstinence, but not me. I don’t tell my patients to turn their backs on their behaviour or their lives. I tell them to embrace their addiction. Don’t run, seize it! Squeeze it! Only when you confront addiction head on will you become free. Confront it and you’ll never feel the pain of want or denial ever again. You’ll once again be truly alive!”
The beta-blocker felt sour and dry in his throat. The Mariner wasn’t bothered though, he washed it down soon after.
Patient Number 0020644
Name: John Doe
Welcomed the new patient today. As I suspected his problem is alcoholism, and a severe case at that. I don’t believe I’ve seen a case of this disease so advanced, at least mentally. I can only deduce that he found a significant quantity on his journeys to fuel it thus-far. Pity that he must have run out (giving him reason to dock at Sighisoara), otherwise he might have had something to trade, though I maintain payment will not be necessary in his case. I feel partially responsible for his near lynching in town and curing his illness is the least I can do for the man. Besides, alcoholism responds quickly to the treatment, I’m sure this will be an open and shut case.