"She did it behind my back. She must've found my old contacts somehow and spent all the money I sent back. I was careless. But I am clean, save for the occasional smoke."
Mr. Rockern's bout of silence that followed made me restless. A little desperate, a little frantic, I hurried to explain. I did not want to leave him hanging again.
"I'm sorry. I've been quite the disappointment. But this incident helped me wake up now. I was arrogant before. I lost sight of myself. I wanted to win the war. I wanted to prove to the world that I was in control of my life. But the more I tried to regain control, the more I become under control. I picked the wrong fights by trying to avoid the addictions and by trying to live a normal life."
"... it's the first time I've heard this from you."
I inhaled a deep breath and continued.
"I lost myself in the matter of identity, but now I've made it clear. I can't associate myself as a non-addict or someone who will never touch drugs again. It serves only as reminders of triggers. I need to associate myself as someone different. A doting father. A happy, enthusiastic wage-earner. A reliable tenant."
Mr. Rockern let out two low chuckles that became a boisterous laughter. I was not clear on what that meant, so a tepid frown formed on my face.
"... did I say something wrong?" I mumbled, gripping the sides of the phone.
"No, no. You are right that addiction is a war. An imaginary war. A war consisting of tens of thousands of hard-fought battles with yourself. Battles you believe you can afford losing."
"Repetitive drug use perpetuates cravings and alters your executive function for self-control. Then one is unable to regulate behavior in front of temptations and impulses," I recited word by word. Mr. Rockern always preached the development of addiction like some religious text.
"Exactly. It creates persistent and intense urges but weakens self-control at the same time. It is a cycle, a horrific cycle. You battle with every decision and every urge and lose with intent, believing you can win the next one. You don't know it's a war until it's too late—until you cannot even surrender."
"... then how do we win? How do I win?"
I could hear Mr. Rockern's smile as he spoke. "You've already won from what you've told me. You said it yourself. Your idea of identity boils down to one thing which is people. That's what most individuals get wrong about addiction. It's an imaginary war with yourself, which means you get to pick your battles. You have full command. You can pick the terrain and the weapons. But the old you did not pick the army. You fought battle after battle as a lone soldier, when you could fight with me. Your daughter. Your neighbors. Your co-workers."
"A military disaster," I mumbled.
"Ha. That's right. But you should thank your little girl. She's a brave one. Insisted in front of the cops that you would be back soon. If not for her, you might've been in a legal disaster."
I froze. "L-Lumi did?"
"Little Lumi cleared you on charges of abuse and neglect. Though you still might on child protective services' radar," Mr. Rockern said.
My heart dropped like a gavel. I combed through her experiences with our shared telepathy. The first-person scene played in my mind, and I felt her quivering body her burst of courage. Her desperate longing. I broke down immediately.
"... I owe her too, too much."
Mr. Rockern gave me my well-needed moment of silence before he agreed. "She's suffered. She may not look like it, but she yearns for you. So, fight for her. Fight with her."
I mumbled in agreement, rubbing my eyes.
"Alright, I can't give you another discount on the rent or else the tax bureau will come after me again. But what I can do us delay things for another three months, max. Long enough for you to get yourself together again, eh?"
"I'm certain."
"That's what I like to hear from the valedictorian with a full ride to Starvard."
"... that's a matter of the past."
Mr. Rockern chuckled. "Don't sound so despondent and regretful. I mean goodwill. Have you ever considered now to retake that offer?"
"The scholarship? It's for sure withdrawn. I didn't attend my graduation, so I don't have my diploma."
"Then apply as a mature student. You don't have a diploma, but your transcript and standardized test scores are still there. You won't have a problem entering post-secondary with your grades. I could sponsor you, at least for the first half of your degree."
I hesitated for a second, half a second. Mr. Rockern could not see me shake my head.
"I appreciate it, Mr. Rockern. But school is much too big of a commitment. Right now, I want to be with Lumi. Begin making things right with her. Begin to be the parent she deserves."
"... you're right. That may be better for you. It's a pity I'm not good with younglings. I won't be able to offer much help in parenting," Mr. Rockern said, sighing on the phone.
"No, no! You've done plenty already," I hurried to answer. Then I swallowed my words as shame bubbled in my stomach. "But there is something, erm, a favor, if it's not too much to ask for..."
"Yeah? I'm all ears."