Read Online Death Spiral by Janie Chodosh - Free Book Online Page B

enough to return the shove, but Melinda’s scurried past us and is cowering by the couch, holding out a piece of paper.
    â€œRead this. It’ll explain.”
    I snatch the paper and read the heading out loud, “You can lead a heroin-free life.” Jesse peers over my shoulder and we read the rest together.
    â€œNeurons are cells that transmit chemical and electrical messages along pathways in the brain. In the center of the brain sits the reward pathway, which is responsible for driving our feelings of motivation, reward and behavior. Drugs, such as heroin, activate this reward pathway, leaving an addict with a high and craving more.
    At the Twenty-third Street Methadone Clinic, we are working with researchers from PluraGen, a leading biopharmaceutical company, to run a clinical trial to deliver an experimental new drug to block this pathway. This will stop the cravings/pleasure cycle associated with heroin use, so that normal brain function can be restored and you can once again lead an addiction free life.
    Are you interested in participating in this groundbreaking clinical trial? Applicants must be over the age of 18 and fill out our prescreening registration form to determine eligibility.”
    I glare at her when I’m done reading. “What the hell is this?”
    â€œThe clinical trial.”
    â€œ What clinical trial?”
    â€œThe one I was in with your mother, for addicts.” Melinda’s whole body is one jittery motion—foot tapping, fingers drumming, hands quivering. Hardly the bleary-eyed, heroin vibe I’ve seen so many times. High on some other drug is my guess. She stubs out her cigarette in a beer can and looks at me. “I’m clean now.”
    â€œClean?” I laugh. “So this clinical trial is a miracle?”
    She ignores my sarcasm and breaks into another coughing fit. “I’m the one who told her about it,” she says when she catches her breath. “I’m not supposed to talk about it…but I thought if you knew, maybe you’d help. I think it’s side effects from the drug making me sick.” She picks at a piece of skin hanging from her lip and her nervous eyes dart to the window again. “So I stopped going in for treatment. That’s why I need money. To see a doctor.”
    I raise my eyebrows at Jesse, who gives a helpless shrug. “You’re saying my mother was in some clinical trial for heroin addicts?”
    â€œThat’s right. They say they’re the only ones who can treat the symptoms, but I don’t believe them.”
    â€œNo way,” I say, in a less than convincing tone. And then, my voice now trembling, I add, “Mom wasn’t in a clinical trial. She would’ve told me. Mom didn’t keep secrets like that.”
    Melinda suddenly lunges at me. She pinches my chin in her scabby fingers and raises my face to meet her eyes. “Look at me.” Her voice is low and controlled and for a second all that twitchy, strung-out energy dissipates. “Your mother and I look the same, don’t we? Our skin—the scabs, the blisters—side effects, all of it.”
    Staring into Melinda’s decomposing flesh, I see my mother and remember that final morning.
    She’s all elbows and knees standing in front of the bathroom mirror in her underwear and t-shirt, rubbing cream onto her scabs.
    â€œYou should really go see a doctor, Ma,” I say, peering at her from the doorway.
    â€œI’m fine, hon,” she tells me, frowning as she checks her reflection in the mirror. “Just a little under the weather. Too much sun at the shore last week. Maybe I have a little cold. Besides, I don’t trust all those fancy doctors and hospitals. All they want is money.” She looks at me, sees the worry on my face, and smiles. “I’ll be fine, Faith, really. I’m clean now. Everything’s going to be okay.”
    There was a lie behind that smile.