Poem: "Our Power to Change"

[ysabetwordsmith]

This poem came out of the November 2, 2021 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from chanter1944 and rix_scaedu. It also fills the "Consultant" square in my 11-1-21 card for the NCIS Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by a pool with fuzzyred, ng_moonmoth, janetmiles, and edorfaus. It belongs to the Trichromatic Attachments thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It follows "The Things You Do," "Never Accept an Apology," "Spiraling Out of Control," "The Fourth for My Enemies," and "When in a Dark Place," so read those first or this won't make much sense.

Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes problem drinking, the morning after, shame and embarrassment (despite a supportive environment at present), anxiety and suspicion due to past bad experiences, skittish supervillain is skittish, reference to frenemies, awkward conversations, trust issues, minor medical details, reference to superpower control issues while drunk, metabolic differences, attempts at an aftercare plan, asking for help and getting it, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.


"Our Power to Change"

[Saturday, September 28, 2013]

Tarnish woke to a gentle nudge
and found Roy standing by him.

"Good morning," said Roy. "I just
topped you up almost half an hour ago,
so as soon as the timer goes off, I can
unhook you. Want a numbing patch
to make the disconnect easier?"

"Yes, please," said Tarnish.
Memories of last night began
filtering back into his awareness
and making him duck his head.

"Hey, it's okay," Roy said as he
smoothed the gel patch in place.
"No need to be embarrassed
about last night. You're not
a burden and I like taking care
of people. We're smooth."

"I guess," Tarnish said. "It's
just kind of awkward, you know?"

"I understand," said Roy. "How
are you feeling this morning?"

"Surprisingly fine," said Tarnish.
"You did a great job fixing me.
So where do we go from here?"

"First, let's explore breakfast options,"
said Roy. "I have some basics like
fruit and breakfast biscuits in here.
If you want something hot, then I can
have someone make instant oatmeal
in the staff breakroom, or order any of
the Hangover Specials from Allbran Café."

"Oh, I love oatmeal," said Tarnish. "That
is my top favorite camping breakfast,
especially with some fruit to put on it."

"Would you like Blueberry Banana,
Strawberry Mango, or Date Walnut?"
Roy asked. "Those are all standard."

"Blueberry Banana," said Tarnish.
He hadn't expected a good breakfast.

Roy sent a text to the breakroom.
"Want a second breakfast from
Allbran Café? That'll take a while."

"What do they have?" said Tarnish.
"You mentioned Hangover Specials."

"Yeah, those are low-grease, high-fiber,
easily digestible, and most of them
are dairy-free," said Roy. "Here's
a menu. Pick anything, we have
a standing agreement there."

Tarnish could see the point of
a bar's restaurant side helping
clean up the mess the bar made.

The menu included Yogurt Parfait,
Allbran Buttermilk Banana Nut Muffins,
Allbran Breakfast Cookies, Allbran Oatmeal,
Wholegrain Peanut Butter Banana Sandwiches,
Vegan Breakfast Bake (ugh, that sounded bad),
Soft-Boiled Egg over Vegetables and Toast, or
Poached Egg with Multigrain Toast and Veggies.

Tarnish chose the last one. "Do you have
any breakfast beverages cold?" he said.

Roy checked the minifridge. "Let's see,
I've got orange juice, coconut water,
tomato juice, or homemade V-8 juice,"
said Roy. "What would you like?"

"I like Bloody Marys," said Tarnish.
"I should've stuck to that last night,
I wouldn't have gotten so drunk.
The vegetables really help."

"No alcohol here, but I do have
nonalcoholic bitters if you'd like me
to dress it up a bit," said Roy. "You
want tomato or V-8 for the base?"

"V-8, please," said Tarnish. "I
love homemade ones. I know
a farmer's market where you can
buy a token and a fill a bag with
whatever you want, and they'll
shove it in a blender for you. It's
the ultimate drinkable breakfast."

"Now I'm just envious," said Roy.
"Where is this farmer's market?"

"Just outside of the Heights in
Colorado, sorry," said Tarnish.

Then the timer went off.

"Okay, let's unhook that IV
and see how you do," Roy said.
"Take a deep breath and hold still."

He was deft and gentle, and Tarnish
felt no more than a quick twinge.
"I will keep pressure on this for
a couple of minutes," Roy said.

"Doesn't take that long for me,"
Tarnish said, shaking his head.

"Lucky you," said Roy. "Do
you know your clotting time?"

"One and a half minutes for
a deep puncture," said Tarnish.

Roy kept an eye on his vidwatch,
and when the time was up, he said,
"I'll put a waterproof wrap on this
so you can shower. Do you want
skin tone or color? I've got black."

"Skin tone, but thanks for asking,"
Tarnish said. "Less conspicuous."

Roy used a little card with a row
of swatches to pick the right color,
then put on the self-sticking wrap.

His vidwatch chirped. "They're
putting your oatmeal in now,"
Roy told Tarnish. "You've got
time to hit the bathroom before
your first breakfast gets here."

Tarnish took advantage of that,
because he really needed to pee.

By the time he got back to the room,
a small cup of oatmeal was waiting for
him, and Roy had poured the V-8.

It all tasted wonderful to him.
The oatmeal was hot and creamy
with sweet touches of fruit, and
the juice reminded him both
of the farmer's market and
and a great Virgin Mary.

"Are you okay?" Roy said.
He looked kind of concerned.

"Yeah, why?" said Tarnish.
"This stuff is fantastic."

"Well, you're clutching
your breakfast like you
think someone's going
to take it away," Roy said.

Tarnish looked down. He
had an arm wrapped around
everything on the side table.

"Sorry, habit," he said. "I'm
okay, it's just really good.
Why are you so fixated
on feeding me, anyway?"

He had expected Roy
to pat him on the head
and push him out the door
as soon as he was sober.

Then again, given how
Roy treated him, that was
probably a poor prediction.

"Breakfast is an opportunity
to teach people how to treat
a hangover, and how to eat
healthy foods in general,"
said Roy. "We like to take
advantage of that chance."

Tarnish looked down. Oats,
fresh fruit, vegetable juice.
"Yeah, these are all on
the hangover food lists."

"When we get to talking
about aftercare later, I can
give you more food ideas,"
Roy said. "Meanwhile, enjoy."

Tarnish enjoyed all right. He
hadn't had a meal this good
in weeks. Or maybe he just
hadn't been in any shape
to appreciate what he had.

When he finished, Roy said,
"How fast can you shower?
If you're quick, you can do it
before second breakfast comes."

"Pretty fast," said Tarnish. "I can
usually hustle it under five minutes,
but I might be a bit slower today."

"That's fine," said Roy. "I have
toiletries for you." He handed
Tarnish a mesh bag. "Come on,
we'll grab fresh clothes on the way."

The Sobering Center had a room
with racks of folded clothes, so it
was easy to find black jeans and
and a soft flannel shirt for later.

Roy assigned him a dottie with
a shower stall. "Want me to wait?"

"Nah, go back to your knitting,"
Tarnish said. "I can find the room."

The kit had everything that he
could possibly need to clean up --
toothbrush and paste, shaving kit,
shampoo, conditioner, and soap --
which was good, because after
last night he really reeked.

Soon Tarnish returned to
the room smelling fragrantly
of the Backwoods Blend.

"Thanks a million," he said.
"I feel so much better now."

"Great, because I finished
your scarf," Roy said, and
draped something over him.

"Wait, what?" Tarnish said.
He pulled it off. It had stripes
in gray, ivory, and deep blue.
"No way you made this, it's
crochet. You were knitting.
And it was a different scarf!"

"I finished that one not long
after you fell asleep," Roy said.
"Yes, I crochet too. I decided
to make another for you, but
if you don't like it, I can always
find someone else to take it."

Tarnish clutched the scarf.
"No, it's great, I love it. Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Roy.
"I can whip up a scarf in
just a few hours. It's easy."

Then his vidwatch chimed.
"Food's here," he said, and
went to fetch the little cart.

It all smelled amazing.

The poached egg wobbled
enticingly, and when Tarnish
cut into it, the yolk was soft
and creamy, not runny.

The toast turned out to be
some sort of hippy loaf,
brown and studded with
small, crunchy seeds.

The roasted vegetables
held the last sweet taste
of summer inside them.

"Where'd you get tomatoes
fresh this time of year?"
Tarnish said. "Because
this sure as hell didn't
come from a supermarket."

"Four Seasons Shoshone Farm,"
said Roy. "We get a majority of
our fresh food supplies from
the Wind River Reservation,
because the Sobering Center
was built to serve their needs."

"Oh yeah, a lot of reservations
have terrible problems with
addiction," said Tarnish. "I'm
glad you can get real food there."

Just then, someone knocked
on the door of the room.

"We don't have anything
pending," Roy said as
the door opened to reveal
a nurse with a food cart.

"Anyone want sausages?"
she asked them. "Bam-Bam
just brought ten pounds of
deerfingers, so I cooked up
some of them to share around."

"Yes!" Roy bounded out of his seat.
"We'll take two servings, please."
He collected a pair of paper plates,
then closed the door to the room.

Tarnish raised his eyebrows. "I
didn't ask for sausage, and I'm not
sure I should eat anything greasy."

"Dude, if you don't want any, I will
happily eat your share," said Roy.
"But these are venison sausage links,
very lean, with wild blueberries, plus
chestnuts and pine nuts for healthy fat.
Think of them like fresh pemmican."

Tarnish loved pemmican. "Hit me."
Roy handed him a paper plate with
three fragrant, finger-sized links.

Tarnish cut into the sausage.
It had a rich, woodsy flavor
that made his mouth water.

Mindful of his stomach --
and how much he'd already
eaten -- he only finished one.

"You can have the others,"
he said, passing the plate
to Roy. "I don't want to push
my luck by eating too much."

"Okay," said Roy. "Thanks
for sharing a special treat."

"Why are you getting sausages
from someone named Bam-Bam?"
Tarnish said. "Local superhero?"

Roy laughed. "No, no, she lives at
Wind River, she's Northern Arapaho."

"With a name like that?" Tarnish said.
"Because it sounds like a cape name."

"Oh, she got that name as a tween,"
said Roy. "Her first hunting trip after
getting a gun, she bagged two deer,
BAM-BAM. Now she goes hunting
on the rez and brings us some meat."

Tarnish kind of wanted to meet her.
She sounded like an interesting person.

After Tarnish finished eating, Roy said,
"You're clean and fed, and you seem
fine this morning. Are you ready
to go through the discharge stuff?"

Tarnish sighed. "Yeah, I guess,"
he said. "You've been good,
it's not fair to skip out on it."

He'd done that plenty of times,
but those guys had deserved it.

"Let's do the health check first,"
said Roy. His hands were
warm and familiar, soothing.
"Here, blow in this for me."

Tarnish blew in the tube.

"Congratulations, you're
all sober now," said Roy.
"Be gentle with your body
for a few days -- nothing
rough and no alcohol until
Tuesday if you can manage."

"Yeah, I can manage that,"
said Tarnish. "I really don't
get drunk all of the time."

"That's good," said Roy.
"Mind if I run the screening?"

Tarnish minded. He hated
prying questions. But Roy had
put up with him and coddled him
without being a dick about it,
and Tarnish paid his debts.
"Go ahead, hit me," he said.

Roy asked him a bunch of
embarrassing questions about
how often and how much Tarnish
drank, how drunk he got, and if
he noticed consequences of it.

"I haven't really had a problem
until recently, but ... it's been
a rough month," he admitted.

"Are you willing to talk about
that some more, or have you
had enough prying?" Roy said.
"I can see the look on your face,
you don't have to say it out loud."

"Maybe ... just a little more,"
Tarnish said. "I might have
to tap out early, though."

"Any time," Roy said. "We
can talk now or later. Think
of me as your consultant
about substance issues."

"I'll try," Tarnish said. "It's
hard. I've got ... baggage.
Not everyone is like you."

"How do you feel about
your care here?" Roy said.
"Better, average, or worse?"

"It's been great," said Tarnish.
"That's why I'm still talking."
And why he hadn't split
last night, for that matter.

"Okay, so try to focus on
here instead of what you
have seen before," said Roy.

"Are all sobering centers
this good?" Tarnish asked.
"Most of the social services
I've seen are naggy and awful."

"No, we're above average," Roy said.
"Those in big cities do tend to have
higher quality than small towns. We're
set up this well because some lawyers
spanked Uncle Sam and made him cry."

Tarnish burst out laughing. "Yeah,
that never stops being funny," he said.

"I think so too," said Roy. "I'm glad
the Wind River Reservation won
their case to keep the land around
Riverton and the city itself -- even
if that runs up the substance issues
we wind up seeing here in town."

"Yeah, I've seen that kind of chaos,"
said Tarnish. "Even if my fuckups
tend to have different causes, well ...
different garbage, same fire."

"If you have made mistakes,
there is always another chance
for you," said Roy. "You can have
a fresh start whenever you choose."

"It's not that easy," Tarnish said.
"There's no way to undo some
of the lameass things that I've
done, and that's a problem."

"You can't go back and
make a brand new start,
but you can start now and
make a brand new ending,"
said Roy. "Just don’t let
the past steal your present."

"You really think so?" said Tarnish.
"It's not like I have much potential."

"What makes you think that?"
Roy asked. "You seem promising."

"Uh, my whole life?" Tarnish said.
"I washed out of college three times."

"Three -- and nobody offered you
any help?" Roy snapped. "What
the hell were they doing, dropping you
on your head to see if you'd bounce?"

Tarnish burst out laughing. "That is
literally the first time anyone blamed
the colleges instead of blaming me."

"Well they're idiots," said Roy.
"College is supposed to teach
you how to handle challenges,
not just the course material."

"Tell them that," Tarnish muttered.

"I'd love to, but I'm not allowed --
unless they broke a law," said Roy.
"It cuts down on collateral conflicts."

"I can only think of one instance,
and I handled that one myself,"
Tarnish said. "But thank you."

A professor had gotten fresh
with him. Tarnish had gone out
and leaned on the man's car,
which had thus rusted apart.

"How about we talk through things,
and I'll offer some options," said Roy.
"You take or leave any of it based on
whether you find it useful. You can
stop or change topics at any time."

Tarnish wished desperately that
he'd met more people with brakes
this good. Well, supervillains could
take no for an answer, but most of
them were as messed up as him.

"I'm willing to try," he said.
"I can't promise that I will
actually be any good at it."

"I'm not asking for promises,
just an honest attempt," said Roy.
"If you listen to me, I'll call that
a success just for connection."

"The hell good is that supposed
to do?" Tarnish said, baffled.

"It means that you might come
back here, so even if we don't
find any solutions today, we
might find some later," said Roy.

"Fair enough," Tarnish said. "I'm
not sure I believe it, but I'll try it."

"Recovery is all about using
our power to change our beliefs
that are based on faulty data,"
Roy said. "That's fixable."

Tarnish wasn't so sure
about that. He'd had
more than a few beliefs
stuck to him like burrs
under a saddle blanket.

"So ... how would you
fix that?" Tarnish asked.

"We'll start by checking out
your coping skills," said Roy.
"How would you gauge them?"

"Obviously not good," Tarnish said,
"or I wouldn't have wound up here."

"Do you have the energy for
a questionnaire?" Roy asked.

"I can live with it," said Tarnish.

Roy asked him questions about
how he felt and what he did
when things went wrong.

A lot of things had gone
wrong for Tarnish, but he
didn't have many ways of
dealing with those problems.

"So my coping skills suck,"
Tarnish said morosely.

"That's a good thing in
this context," Roy said.

"Well fuck you too!"
Tarnish snapped.

Roy spread his hands.
"I don't mean it's good that
you're floundering. I mean
that a shortage of skills is
a straightforward problem
that can be solved simply
by learning new skills."

"Oh," said Tarnish, looking
down. "Sorry for yelling at you."

"Apology accepted," said Roy.
"I could've phrased that better."

"So do that now, because I
still don't get it," said Tarnish.

"It's a lot harder to fix things when
someone has plenty of coping skills
but they aren't enough," said Roy.
"That usually means the problem
is bigger and it could require
professional help to solve."

"That makes more sense,"
Tarnish said. "So without
coping skills, little problems
look bigger than they are."

"Exactly!" said Roy. "Now
at your level, you don't need
an expert. You can read a book,
or walk into almost any mental clinic
or community center to ask them
for a module on coping skills, and
they'll have something for you."

"That ... doesn't suck as much,"
Tarnish said. "I'll think about it."

He hated the idea of therapy,
but then again, he hated how
the last month had gone.

Maybe Roy would know of
a therapist who didn't suck.

"Let's gather some more data
so you can see where you're
starting," Roy suggested.

"Yeah, okay," said Tarnish.
"I'm not too fried for it yet."

When Roy asked him to list
his coping skills, he struggled
to find more than picking fights,
getting drunk, fooling around with
his superpowers, or stalking off
into the woods so that he didn't
have to deal with stupid people.

"Well, you have one healthy skill
to start with, spending time in
nature," said Roy. "Maybe
you can build on that one."

"Maybe," said Tarnish. "It's
no good to me in town, though."

"So, would you agree that you
could use more coping skills?"
Roy asked. "I won't push."

Tarnish was actually starting
to believe that. "Yeah, I agree."

"I have some basic handouts
to give you," Roy offered.

He put together a whole stack.
There were descriptions of
how coping worked, along
with worksheets and lists of
coping methods to try out.

"I suggest that you pick a list
and try things on it, tracking
what works for you or not,"
said Roy. "Try to acquire
at least one new skill in
each of the categories."

"Just try things at random?"
Tarnish said. "It doesn't
matter how daffy they are?"

"Well, start with things that
genuinely appeal to you,"
Roy said. "You can leave
the long shots for later."

"I guess it can't hurt
to try," Tarnish said.

"That's the spirit," said Roy.
"If the self-help isn't enough,
I gave you a list of our contacts."

Tarnish paged through the stack
and found the names of people and
places in the Sobering Center's network
who taught coping skills in some way.

There was the Memorial Hospital,
the Community Health Center,
and the Recreation Center -- plus
the Sobriety Assistance Building.

Several private offices were
also listed, including a couple
in the Wind River Reservation.
One of those was Shoshone and
another was Northern Arapaho.

"I think I can work with this,"
said Tarnish. At least, it gave
him plenty of places to try in case
he kept washing out of them.

"Good," said Roy. "Then let's
explore another thing you listed."
He tapped the superpower line.

"Uh ... that's probably not
a good idea," said Tarnish.

"Your control isn't back yet?"
said Roy. "You mentioned
that it was gone last night."

His control always went
to hell when he was drunk.

"My superpowers mainly
consist of wrecking things and
hurting people," said Tarnish.

"You haven't hurt me," Roy said.
"Let's see if we can think of
some constructive things
you could do with them."

"Like what?" Tarnish said,
staring at him. "I'm dangerous."

"So is a truck if you hit someone
with it, but that's still useful when
it's used responsibly," Roy said.
"What about waste disposal?"

"Ugh, no, I'd die of boredom."
Tarnish shuddered. "This is
why I became a supervillain.
There aren't any good uses
that I could actually stand."

"Well, art comes to mind,
unless you hate that too,"
said Roy. "Give it a try?"
He offered a shiny coin.

"What does this have to do
with art?" Tarnish argued.

"If you can patina things with
your superpowers, that ought
to be useful," Roy suggested.

"Oh," Tarnish said thoughtfully
as he picked up the nickel.

Yeah, he'd seen metalworkers
putting tarnish paste on things
they'd just made, to make
the details more visible.

The new coin was so shiny
that it looked almost blank.

Carefully Tarnish pressed
a fingertip over it and used
just a hint of his ability.

The metal darkened,
aging visibly in moments,
but it was smudgy and dim.

"It doesn't look very good,"
Tarnish said critically.

"It's a first attempt,"
Roy said. "Most art
takes plenty of practice."

Tarnish thought about
approaching the crafters
he'd met at LARP markets
and Renaissance faires.

"I might try again," he said.
If nothing else, they'd have
miscasts for him to wreck.

"See, we're already making
great progress," said Roy.

Tarnish tilted his head.
"You weren't frightened by
my superpowers at all, were
you?" he said. "Not last night,
and not this morning either."

"No," said Roy. "You should
see this place in powwow season.
Sometimes even I can't always
tell what's real or what's not."

"What?" Tarnish said. "You've
dealt with supervillains before?"

"Tribal warriors, mostly, and
a few unaffiliated," said Roy.
"Some have medicine powers,
but it's not always easy to tell
who does, who's hallucinating, and
who's just jerking with the white guy
by using pranks or stage magic."

"No wonder you didn't blink
at me," Tarnish said. "Wow."

"You have an interesting gift,"
said Roy. "It's good to use those."

Tarnish shrugged. "I have to,"
he said. "If I don't take care
of myself, nobody else will.
So I try to make sure that I
have what I need and that
people don't mess with me."

"Self-care is good," said Roy.
"I'm glad to see you doing that."

"Sometimes you’ve just got
to give yourself what you wish
someone else would give you,"
said Tarnish. "Supervillain wisdom."

"Well, hopefully we can get you
to where other people pitch in too,
but for now at least you've got
a foundation," Roy replied.

"I can put beans on the table,
I'll call it good," said Tarnish.

"That's a good next topic.
You may or may not remember,
but last night I checked your levels
of vitamins, and a bunch of them
were really low," said Roy. "Here."

He showed Tarnish a chart with
low, optimum, and high levels
along with personal scores.
The numbers were not good.

"So ... how have you been
feeling lately?" Roy asked him.

"Like shit, but I thought that
was personal stuff," Tarnish said.
"Now I don't know, sometimes soups
have odd dietary needs. My abilities
don't really run on calories, though,
so I've only needed a little bit extra."

"What have you been eating?"
Roy said. "That matters for
everyone, not just soups."

"Whatever I can get,"
Tarnish said. "I had
a barbecue sandwich
at the bar last night.
That was fantastic."

"The Rancher's Saloon
and Allbran Café has
a great reputation for
reasons," Roy agreed.
"Could I interest you in
some dietary handouts?
I have things targeted for
substance use recovery."

"How does that even work?"
Tarnish said. "It's just food."

Roy pulled out some pages
with colorful food on them.

"Foods have different nutrients,
and each nutrient relates to
different bodily processes,"
Roy explained. "To support
a desired result, you just
cross-reference which nutrients
it requires and which foods
have them. These lists do
all of that work for you."

"Yeah, gimme the lists,"
Tarnish said. Anything that
was less work and might help
him feel better was worth a try.

The lists were mostly fresh fruits
and vegetables, lean protein, and
a few examples of healthy fats.

Much of it was stuff he liked, if
he could remember to choose it.

Tarnish turned a page and saw
a long list of restaurants with
recommended choices at each,
plus a Mediterranean diet plan.
"Wow, that's awesome," he said.

"I'm happy I could help," said Roy.
"Normally this is where I would
suggest talking with a nutritionist,
but I don't know any who work
with soups, so I can't be sure
they'd know how to help you."

Tarnish's jaw dropped. He
had rarely heard anyone refrain
from making recommendations,
especially over the differences
between soups and naries.

"I um, have some people I can
talk with about that if I need to,"
he said. Kraken probably knew
more about it than anyone else.

"That's good to hear," said Roy.
"How much do you cook?"

"Not much, except when I
go out camping," said Tarnish.

"So take our campfire recipes,"
Roy said, "and if you enjoy
eating like a wildman?"
Tarnish nodded eagerly.
"Here's a handout with
traditional tribal recipes."

Tarnish looked at the pages.
They almost made him feel
hungry again, and he had
just eaten breakfast. Twice.

"It's too bad that I don't have
a firepit or a woodstove to use
right now," he said wistfully.

"Do you have a place to stay?"
Roy asked. "If not, we have
contacts with sober housing and
other free or affordable housing."

Tarnish shook his head. "Nah,
I get around," he said. "That's
a lifestyle choice, not a problem.
Last time I bumped into Cavalier
and Princessa was in Colorado."

"Okay," said Roy. "If you do swing
through here again and you need
a place to crash for a while, though,
the Riverton Sobriety Assistance Building
can give you a tour of available options."

"Well ..." Tarnish looked down at
the lapful of stuff Roy had given him.
Some of it seemed worth a followup.
"... I might stick around. For a few days."

"We have options for that too, if you
don't want to get a hotel room," said Roy.

Tarnish wrinkled his nose. "Not really
a fan of hotels," he said. Or people,
some days, which was a big reason
why he'd become a supervillain.
"I might just go camping instead."

Surprisingly, Roy brightened at
that. "Then definitely check out
Lonesome Wind Retreat," he said
as he handed Tarnish another flyer.

This one had a business card
from the Sobering Center
paperclipped to the top.

Tarnish flicked it with
his thumbnail. "What's
up with this?" he said.
"Do you get a kickback?"

"Lonesome Wind Retreat
is run by the Shoshone,"
Roy said. "The place offers
modern and rustic cabins, or
camping. Mostly they serve
visiting relatives, artists, or
folks at loose ends. They're
not really aiming for tourists."

The place looked ... interesting.
Nice wilderness, with hiking and
horseback riding, plus fishing or
canoeing on the Little Wind River.

It would be nice to get away for
a while, and still be close to
most of the local resources.

"I could maybe go for that,"
Tarnish said slowly. "It's nice."

"Just be aware, that retreat is
clean and dry," Roy warned.
"Some folks want to get away
from the drug-and-booze trouble
that's all over the reservation."

"I guess you get a lot of
that here," said Tarnish.

"Sadly so," Roy agreed.
"We do our best to help."

Tarnish flicked a fingernail
against the papers that
Roy had given him.

The younger man was
steady, not pushy, and
not afraid of his abilities.

"You really don't mind
dealing with supervillains?"
Tarnish said. "It's important."

"I really don't," Roy said. "Come
back here whenever you need to."

"What if it's not just me, though?"
said Tarnish. "Because there
aren't many people who are
willing to help supervillains."

"We're here for everyone
in need," Roy assured him.

"I'm feeling tempted to pass
your card around under
the table," said Tarnish.

"Go ahead," said Roy.
"If you refer a friend
here, and they get help,
then that's a good thing."

"Even if the people I'm
referring are shady folks?"
said Tarnish. Kraken had
plenty of principles, but
they still spooked people
when they got high-handed.

"Tarnish, most of the folks
who come here in need are
shady," said Roy. "Soup
or nary, if people have
a monkey on their back,
we're here to help them."

"Even flying monkeys?"
Tarnish said quietly.

"I don't recognize
that slang, sorry,"
said Roy. "It's new?"

"No, just kind of obscure,"
said Tarnish. "It refers to
any kind of zetetic drug --
Gate-R, MOOVE, H-Force,
all that sort of poison."

"That sounds scary,"
said Roy. "We don't
have training for that,
only ordinary drugs."

Tarnish sighed. "Well,
that changes who I need
to hook you up with," he said.
"There's really just one expert
leading that field. I'll send him
a message. He'll send you
a contact named for a spice,
who'll ask for you specifically."

"Wait, I'm not the head nurse,
I don't really have any authority
here," Roy protested. "Can't
Dr. Heyborne handle this?"

"The reference is for you personally,
but other staff or the whole facility
may get pulled in too," said Tarnish.

"Dr. Heyborne isn't the head doctor,
either," said Roy. "Is that a problem?"

"Will the head doctor, head nurse,
or other leaders make a fuss if
supervillains start showing up
drunk or stoned?" said Tarnish.

"Not unless they cause other trouble,"
said Roy. "But heck, half the drunks
do that, so it's not unexpected."

"See, this is why we pay extra,"
Tarnish muttered. "Okay, I'll do
my part by passing the word that
you're a safe contact. Afterwards,
well, it's up to you and whomever
to work out any agreements."

"I can handle that," said Roy. "I'm
used to networking in this field."

Tarnish chuckled. "Good, because
this network wraps around the world.
If it's a drug, they're familiar with it,
even the new or zetetic stuff."

"That's encouraging," said Roy.
"Have you had any problems with
zetetics? None of my programs
are equipped for that, I'm afraid."

"No, I pretty much just get drunk,"
said Tarnish. "Only tried the other stuff
once. I fell asleep on a metal park bench,
and when I woke up, the whole damn thing
was all covered in abstract etchings."
He shuddered. "Never again."

"Well, that's prudent," said Roy.
"Now you know that you can
back off problematic choices.
Do you want to see our list of
support groups for alcohol?"

Tarnish glared at him. "If you
try to push me into that, I will
rust your car," he said. "I don't
need the fucking 12 Steps." He
paused. "Except maybe Step 9 1/2."

"I haven't heard of that one," Roy said,
ignoring the rest of it. "What is it?"

"When you can't fix whatever
you broke or make amends to
people you hurt," said Tarnish.
"That happens more often to
supervillains than naries. So
you sidestep it and try to help
someone in the same category."

"That's a great idea," Roy said,
making a note. "May I share it?"

Tarnish rubbed a hand over
his face. "Yeah, but don't
just look it up at random."

"Can you find me a site you
consider safe and reliable, then?"
Roy said, offering the tablet.

"Yeah," said Tarnish. He got
onto BlackSheep and found
a couple of pages written by
supervillains that would still
make sense to naries. "Here."

"This looks very helpful, thanks,"
said Roy, saving the pages. "I
have more than 12 Steps, though.
You aren't the only person who
dislikes that approach. I've got
a Buddhist one that's contemplative,
and Moderation Management is
right up your alley, I believe."

"Oh, fine, let me see the list."
Tarnish waggled a hand at him.

The list was embarrassingly useful.
It gave not only the name and address
of each provider, but also a summary of
their philosophy and a thumbnail list
of what sobriety services they offered.

Yeah, Moderation Management
seemed like it might be helpful.
It didn't push abstinence, it let you
choose your own goals and then
tried to help you achieve those.

"Do you want to look over
your symptom responses from
last night?" Roy said. "Those
might help you figure out how
to limit your drinking to whatever
you consider more reasonable.
We can do the remainder of
the aftercare paperwork next."

"Why would symptoms matter?"
Tarnish said. "They're gone now."

"First, bad symptoms show where
you crossed a line that you maybe
didn't mean to cross," said Roy,
bringing it up on the computer.
"Second, responses to treatments
tell you how to fix the mess, and
maybe even prevent a recurrence."

Tarnish looked at the scales for
how he felt, watching them change
based on the treatments logged in.

Then he remembered feeling better,
and wondering if it was because of
the medication or the sympathy.

"Your company helped," he said.
"That really made a difference."

"I'm glad I could be here for you,"
said Roy. "Next time, maybe try
talking with a friend before you
go out and get smashed?"

If nothing else, Tarnish
owed Cavalier an apology.

"Maybe, if I can find someone
willing and able to help me
with that," said Tarnish.

"Any of our services are
good places to make friends
who have those kinds of skills,"
said Roy. "Would you like
to fill out the hangover survey
one last time to write down
your overall impressions before
we do the aftercare portion?"

"Might as well," Tarnish said,
flicking through the familiar scales.
It was easier now than last night,
looking back on how he felt and
which remedies helped the most.

He was completely sure that
a compassionate caregiver,
fluid replacement, supplements,
and prescription meds had turned
a miserable night into a bearable one.

A shower, a double breakfast, and
more resources than he knew what
to do with had made this morning
a whole new experience, too.

"Write it down," Roy murmured.

"What?" Tarnish asked him.
"I didn't actually say anything."

"Whatever you're thinking while
looking at that form, write it down
in the notes section," said Roy.
"The more you remember about
this occasion, the easier it will be
to solve your overall problems."

"I was thinking this morning
helped, not just last night,"
Tarnish said. "Does it count?"

"Yes, it counts," said Roy.
"Aftercare is essential, and it's
more than just handing you flyers."

"Shower and breakfast," Tarnish said,
"and not nagging me about being stupid."

"You're not stupid," said Roy. "You've
just had a really hard time that shorted
you on skills and left you floundering."

He made it sound so ... understandable.
Then why didn't anyone else understand?

There were more sections on the form
today that addressed problem drinking
from more than just the symptoms.

Tarnish moved down the page and
realized that he didn't have much
in the way of social support.

Well, maybe Roy was right
about making some new friends.

Tarnish wasn't surprised to find that
he had a number of risk factors
correlated with problem drinking.

He was surprised to see how many
of the protective factors he also had.
Maybe not enough to keep him out
of trouble, but more than expected.

He was coping better than expected,
too. Even though he was thinking
more about his drinking habits,
he wasn't freaking out about it.

Tarnish rated his overall support
as low, but gave Roy a rating
just below Saved My Life.

"You really helped a lot,"
he said, tilting the screen
so Roy could see. "More
than most people have."

"Thanks for the vote of
confidence," Roy said.

"There's just a few questions
about aftercare," Tarnish said.
He scribbled through those,
checking a couple of them but
blowing off the rest. "Do I have
to make an aftercare plan?"

"Not if you don't want to,"
Roy said. "We've actually
covered most of that already,
just not in a formal structure.
Food, housing, support."

"Oh good," said Tarnish.
"I didn't want to shaft you
on that, but I'm wearing out."

"You made it through our talk
and the whole form, you've
done great," Roy praised.

"I don't hear that very often,"
Tarnish said. "Feels weird."

"You'll get used to that. Do
you need more time to think
about what you want to do next,
or have you made some decisions?"
Roy said. "If you've already settled
on a next step, then I'd be happy
to call any of our services and
give you a warm handoff."

Tarnish hesitated, then he
took a deep breath and said,
"Lonesome Wind Retreat,
please. I know that I don't
want a hotel room, and I'd
like some more time to think
about other options here."

"I'll call them right now,"
Roy said as he pulled out
his phone. "I'm sure they'll
be delighted to meet you,
and they'll send someone
over to pick you up shortly."

"It comes with a ride?"
Tarnish said, startled.

"Not everyone feels
good enough to walk
out of here," Roy said.
"Even sober, sometimes
they still aren't very healthy."

"Guess I should be grateful
for that much," Tarnish said.

"Gratitude is a feeling, and
you feel whatever you feel,"
said Roy. "Don't push it."

He made the warm call, and
Tarnish listened in amazement
as Roy booked a rustic cabin
for him and got the promised ride.

It would be nice to get outside,
away from people, so that he
could have a good long think.

Tarnish drummed his fingers
on the computer tablet. "I
don't see anything on here
about prices or payment."

"If you want to chip in toward
the cost of your care, you can --
every bit is welcome -- but you
don't have to," said Roy. "When
your friends dropped you off, they
left a donation. Besides, the bars
pay some, we get a good budget
from Wind River Reservation, and
the government has to match."

"I can chip in," said Tarnish. "Do
you have a sliding scale chart?"

"Sure," said Roy, and took
the computer tablet to show
the requested information.

A brief glance at the range
made Tarnish shake his head.

"This is all lowballing for me,"
he said. "Do you have, hmm,
a corporate version instead?"

Roy's eyebrows went up. "You
run a company?" he asked.

"Not exactly," Tarnish hedged.
"I'm a bit more independent. But
I have plenty of resources. You
took good care of me, and that's
rare for supervillains. So we like
to encourage it when we see it."

Also that made up for the times
when the shit hit the fan and
spilled over on the helpers.

"Tap the icon of the building
with people under it," Roy said.

Yeah, that was more like it.
Tarnish picked a level inspired
by what he'd learned from Kraken,
then spent a couple of minutes
setting up the complex routing.

"Done," said Tarnish. "You won't
see it immediately, but it should
show up tomorrow. My system
is, ah, kind of complicated."

"No problem," Roy said. "It'll
be welcome whenever it arrives.
Thank you for your support."

"I don't get very many chances
to save lives," Tarnish said, "but
I think you do a lot of that here."

"We try," said Roy. "We can't
save them all, but we can
usually make a difference."

When Tarnish handed back
the tablet computer, he
knocked off several of
the pages piling his lap.

Roy leaned down and
picked them up, then
returned them to him.

"You want a bag for all
of that stuff?" Roy offered.
"I have paper, recycled plastic,
or canvas; blank or statement."

Tarnish rolled his eyes. "Like
I want to walk out of here with
a bag that says Sobering Center."

"No, we have those, but they're
not the most popular," said Roy.
"Here, check out the options."

He opened a cabinet that was
completely full of bags, with
neutrals on one side and
rainbow colors on the other.

"So blanks on the top --"
Roy waved a hand. "-- and
text or illustrations below.
See anything you like?"

Tarnish leaned forward.
"What about the black ones?"

Roy riffled through a few of
those, reading the quotes.

Then a flash of brighter color
snagged Tarnish's attention.
"What's that one?" he said.

Roy pulled it out of the stack
and carefully shook it open.

The black canvas displayed
a stylized sunrise symbol in
a cheerful golden yellow over
the inscription, It gets better.

"I'll take that one," Tarnish said.
"It's a stretch, but a guy can hope."

"Yeah, we have other options
for people who think that one is
overly optimistic or fortunetelling,"
Roy said, handing him the bag.
"Would you like folders too?"

Tarnish stared at the mess
of papers. "Yes, please."

Roy passed him a stack of
folders labeled Food, Housing,
Help, Recovery, and Options,
along with several blank ones
in different colored cardstock.

"Thanks," said Tarnish. "I
appreciate all the swag, but
it's getting to be a handful.
I actually feel hopeful for
the first time in a long time."

Then Roy's phone rang.

"Your ride is here," he said.
"Are you ready to head out?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Tarnish
pushed himself to his feet.
"Goodbye, comfy chair."

Roy chuckled. "It's been
a wild ride, but worth
every minute," he said,
offering a hand to shake.

Tarnish took it. "Thanks
for everything," he said.

And had trouble letting go.

Roy tilted his free hand
outward. "Go ahead."

Tarnish pulled him into
a hug and leaned against
the warm body one last time.

When they finally parted,
Roy said, "I'll walk you out
for that warm handoff."

He really meant it about
wanting Tarnish to be okay.

Tarnish wasn't sure how
he felt about that, but he
could probably figure it out.

He had a whole retreat to do it in.

* * *

Notes:

This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes appear separately.