Too Late?

“Yeah, and I’m a rookie.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do any heroin.”
“What are these?”
I held up four syringes filled with a murky brown liquid.
“Heroin, but I didn’t do any.”
“Why are your pupils pinpoint.”
“I’ve been smoking crack since yesterday.” He held up a rock and a glass pipe as proof.
“What’s the heroin for?”
“I need to calm down.”
“This much will probably kill you.”
“I wasn’t going to do it all at once.”
I emptied the syringes and disposed of the sharps. He sat on the bench seat as we rode to Rhode Island Hospital. I couldn’t leave him to drive the car we found him in so we left it in a hotel parking lot. He fidgeted as we drove, I asked him what the hell he was doing.
“I was clean for seven months, had a fight with my girlfriend a couple of days ago and kind of lost my mind.”
“You’re going to be back on the streets in a few hours. Why don’t you get yourself to a N/A meeting before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
We walked into the ER together. I hope he takes my advice and gets back on track and doesn’t smoke the crack I forgot to take away from him.