That blue.
I know that blue.
My mind wasn’t tricking me.
Archer is the brother Colin didn’t want to talk about.
“Was your brother the person on the phone?”
“Yeah.”A heavy pause in his car while we sat in the Reyeses’ long, oval drive, and a look of warning.“We don’t need to talk about him.”
And if this harrowing laundry list of abuse is what Archer lived through, it’s what Colin lived through, too.
I steel myself as I read the police reports in detail, and sure enough, I come across Colin’s name about a dozen times.
They were in and out of protective care, but ultimately returned to their parents’ custody every single time, where the abuse continued.
When I reach the end of the file inside the file, I have to push back from the desk andbreathe.I’m going to have to talk to Georgia about this. There has to be some kind of conflict of interest here.Surely, if I wassort ofinvolved with Colin, even for just that one weekend, I shouldn’t be allowed to be Archer’s freaking recovery coach.Surely,I’ll have to pass this off to someone else.
But just in case I’m not able to, and because, honestly, sick curiosity has me glued to this file, I continue reading through the forms. The rest of them are more standard stuff like the signed contract, Archer’s contact information and his emergency contact, which is—of course—none other thanColin, and statements of intent. These are forms specific to Allied Recovery’s coaching method. We require new clients to write down their post-recovery goals so we can redirect them to what they’re ultimately working towards. If possible, we also request that partners or family members write an impact statement. It’s not all that different from when loved ones stage an intervention and tell the addict how their addiction has affected their lives.
Archer’s statement of intent is short and simple.
I’ve never been able to stand on my own two feet. That’s what I want to be able to do. I’m a grown man and my brother still has to take care of me. I want to be able to take care of myself. I don’t like that I’m constantly a mess. I want something better for myself. I want my brother to finally be proud of me for something, and I want to be proud of myself. I don’t know exactly what I want to do, but I don’t want it to be this anymore.
His heart is in the right place, and he makes no grandiose claims of what he believes he’ll be able to accomplish through coaching. Sometimes, people go overboard with these statements and set goals that are unattainable, which is problematic. Goals need to be realistic for where the person currently is. If they’re too lofty, the person will fail to meet them, and that ends up discouraging them and is detrimental to their overall recovery.
Archer is honestly the ideal first case for me. I know exactly how to approach his recovery plan. I have every reason to believe he and I can be successful in this effort. The single, solitary stumbling block is the fact that I have a very inconvenient connection to his brother.
But…
Colin and I are not together. We no longer have any connection to each other beyond the vague invitation of hanging out at some point that I extended to him when we met at the bank. The process of coaching very rarely involves the family members unless it’s a spouse or a dependent child. All I would have to do is just… you know…forgetto text Colin about going to get cheesecake at some point.
I’ll have to talk to Georgia about it, but I actually think this’ll be okay.
Flipping past Archer’s statement, I’m face-to-face with a page full of Colin’s dark, slanted, assertive handwriting. The same handwriting that was on both of the checks he made out to me. The same handwriting from the napkin on the day we met.
I almost don’t want to read it, but just like the rest of the file, I’m gripped with that same sick curiosity.
Before I say anything, it’s important to understand that Archer’s been victimized since he was very young. He was always the preferred target of our father until I started inserting myself as a shield and a distraction. After that, I became the primary target, but the damage had been done. Our father’s abuse became so violent by the time I was sixteen that I got fed up and left. I went to live with a family who’d been charitable to my brother and me for a number of years, and lived with them until I finished high school and left for college. Archer didn’t want to leave. I know that by leaving without him, I left Archer vulnerable, but if I hadn’t I have no doubt that I wouldn’t even be around to write this statement. My reasoning was that if my father killed me, I really wouldn’t be able to do anything for Archer. My plan was to go to college and get a job, and then try to help Archer get on his feet. Unfortunately, in the time it took me to finish high school, Archer had gotten hooked on drugs and became my father’s peer rather than his child. They fed each other’s addictions and the former abuse morphed into general fisticuffs that could be placated by getting wasted on whatever drugs they had access to. This continued until I had finished college and learned that my parents had been killed in a car accident my father caused by driving under the influence. Archer was only sixteen at the time, so I became his legal guardian. I have done everything in my power to get him on the straight and narrow, but everything I’ve tried has failed. It could be said that I have been failing him for eleven years, but the truth is I started failing him when I left while I was still a teen.
That said, Archer’s a grown man now. I’m fed up with the excuses. He is a financial black hole. He can’t keep a job and spends all his money and the money I give him on his next fix and God only knows what else. I have tried to set boundaries. His problems interfere with my work, and my work is the only thing keeping us both afloat. I have tried putting him in numerous expensive treatment programs, only for him to relapse within months. I think Archer’s problem is he has no self-worth, no direction, no purpose, and no hope. He needs to find his “why”. If he can find that, I believe he can be successful this time. I certainly hope he is, because I’m at the end of my rope with him. My life revolves around bailing him out and wondering where he is and worrying that today’s going to be the day I get a call informing me that he’s dead. I can’t live like this anymore. The only way I’ll ever be able to have a life is if he can make one for himself. That’s what I hope he can accomplish through coaching.
Colin’s dark, assertive handwriting is reduced to a blur as my eyes well up, and I have to close the file.
“This is his real bottom line,” I say to my empty office.
On the very first day I met him, Colin snapped at me about how I was a threat to his survival. He must have meant this. He is the truest definition of an enabler that I’ve ever encountered, and he’s as trapped as Archer is.
And they’re both as trapped as I was until Colin set me free with that one-million-dollar check.
Sonow… my course of action is clear.
I’m going to run this by Georgia, and if she says there isn’t a conflict of interest, I am going to pour everything I have into getting Archer on the straight and narrow.
There’s no denying the fact that Colin saved my life with that million-dollar arrangement. I would still be drowning in debt and barely making rent and likely end up back at my parents’ place. My parents, who honestly aren’t that much different than what I just read about Colin and Archer’s parents. The only difference was the manner of abuse. I was neglected and psychologically tormented. They were physically hurt. All three of us essentially suffered the same way. Archer became the worst version of what can result from such a childhood.
I have to do this.
