Down and Out on Murder Mile by Tony O'Neill

the test inconclusive. I sent you a standard letter to inform you of this, as the rules dictate. The letter was returned to me with the notice that you no longer live at that address.”
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    â€œLook, Dr. Stein,” I stammered, in full damage control mode, “I was going to tell you! The lease came up on the flat and we had to vacate. We’re somewhere temporary—only for a few weeks, and we’re looking for a new place right in the area. That’s why we didn’t tell you!”
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    â€œOh yes, I’m sure. You people are always so fucking innocent! You probably have four or five doctors prescribing to you, right? You don’t give a shit whether I lose my license! I’ve been nothing but good to the pair of you!”
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    I was stunned. Dr. Stein was genuinely hurt by our deception. Although, I must admit, when he mentioned his suspicion that we had more than one doctor prescribing methadone to us, my first thought was: That’s possible? I gotta try that.
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    Susan chimed in. “Dr. Stein, it’s true! We didn’t want to fuck up our prescriptions, that’s all! We’re only out of White City for a month, tops, until we can find a local flat again! We’re sleeping on a friend’s floor at the moment. Please…please, don’t kick us out. Things have been going really well recently! We’re getting it together…. Oh Jesus…please don’t kick us out…. It’s not fair!”
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    Susan was about to go into her crying and wailing routine again. Stein cut her off with a wave of his hand.
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    â€œIt’s too late. The wheels have been set in motion. You must give me your new address, and another doctor has to take over your care. It’s expressly prohibited for me to prescribe to patients outside of my catchment area. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you anymore.”
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    We returned to Tottenham in silence. We drank our methadone from the bottles on the train ride home. Everything was wrong. Ascending in the pissy elevator to the seventeenth floor of our block of flats, the situation was about to deteriorate further. There were people in the flat. Usually Jack would fuck off during the daytime, but he was here and so was Michael. The cunts were both sitting around in our bedroom.
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    I opened the door and saw them, huddled in conversation.
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    â€œOi!” I yelled at the pair of them, “What you doing on our room?”
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    Michael looked up. He just said: “Can you come in here a minute?”
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    Susan and I walked in silence toward them. Michael and Jack were sitting on the only two chairs in the room. Michael pointed toward the mattresses and said, “Sit down.” We did. Michael and even dumb, eighteen-year-old Jack were now towering over us. I started to feel anger rise in my chest. Susan kept her mouth shut and looked at the floor.
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    â€œFucking problem?” I asked.
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    â€œI think so,” said Michael, “Jack here…and me too actually…we’re worried that you aren’t really a part of the program anymore. I mean, I know that you sometimes show up to the odd meeting, but…well, it’s been a long time you’ve been coming around. A long time. Neither of you have a sponsor, which to me…well, I just don’t get it.”
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    â€œWhat don’t you get?” I demanded. “I don’t want a sponsor. When I bump into someone at one of these meetings who I think will have the first clue about where I’m coming from, then sure, then I’ll have a sponsor. Until then, I’ll do it myself.”
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    â€œThat’s not the way the program works!” Jack laughed.
    â€œDon’t tell me about the fucking program, Jack. I went to my first meeting five years ago in LA, remember? You were thirteen fucking years old Jack. I’m not listening to any fucking lectures from you, mate. I show up.