Read Online One in Every Crowd by Ivan E. Coyote - Free Book Online Page A

of the bank today. He looked skinny and drawn and nervous, just like you did the last time I ran into you on the Drive, and for some unexplainable reason I felt like punching him. Instead I took a deep breath and asked him when was the last time he called his mother?
    The self-help books and the twelve-step doctrines would probably feed me some line right now about how no one can really help you until you are ready to help yourself and to not to allow myself to feel hurt that I haven’t heard from you in almost a year, that it is your addiction governing your behaviour right now and not you. But I call bullshit on that. We have known each other since we were kids, I would and have done anything to help you, and I deserve better than this.
    This not knowing. Remember when I dragged you off the street and let you sleep it off for days and fed you and helped you track down the bits and pieces of your life so you could start putting them back together? Back then you said you were done with it all, you were ready, you wanted to change your life, and you needed my help.
    I told you that night on the back porch I would do whatever it took, anything in my power to see you through this time, but that I had one condition. My one condition wasn’t even that you stay clean, because I know what a demon the meth is, and I didn’t want you tossing me out with the clean and sober bathwater if you backslid. My one condition was that you didn’t lie to me anymore, that if you used I wanted to hear about it from you. No more bullshit.
    Maybe that is why you haven’t called, maybe the truth was something you thought I wouldn’t want to hear, or something you weren’t prepared to say out loud.
    I asked after you at your favourite old coffee shop the other day. The owner’s grandson, the cute one, he surprised me by saying yes, he had seen you, and that you were looking great, that you had cleaned up and were living in the suburbs somewhere, and working construction.
    I let out the long breath with your name on it that I had been holding for almost a year, and went straight home to call your brother. I was so glad to have word that you were alive and well that it took me a couple of days to get around to wondering why you hadn’t gotten in touch with anyone.
    The guy who first said ‘No news is good news’ obviously never had a best friend fighting the ice.
    And the guy who coined the phrase “fair-weather friend” never met either of us. I once told you I knew that if ever I found myself in your shoes, I had every faith you would be there for me, and you hugged me in place of a yes.
    I think of you whenever I swim in a lake, whenever I pass a rusty pick-up truck on the highway, whenever I see the northern lights or a blue-eyed dog. I miss you whenever I hit my thumb with a hammer, ride my bike, or walk past a lawn that needs mowing.
    I’m not writing this to judge you, or to make you feel guilty. I’m writing this to let you know that whenever you are ready, I will be here. I refuse to give up on you. The fire that burned my house down spared the garage, so I still have most of the tools you stored at my place. A couple of times I had to laugh out loud at the same time as I was cursing your name, as I’ve moved around a lot since my house burned down, and I must really love you, because I can’t think of anyone else I would move an entire set of free weights five times for, myself included.
    I will pick up that phone whether you are still using or not, and I will listen to you whether your news is rosy or rainy. I want you to know that I meant what I said on the back porch that night, no matter what. No bullshit. A lot of things have changed for both of us since then, but not my home phone number.
    Oh yeah, and my grandmother says to say hello.

Single Malt
    MY DAD USED TO BE EASY TO SHOP FOR. Every Christmas and birthday, for as long as I can remember, I have got him a bottle of single malt scotch. What brand I chose changed