The Journey Ch. 07

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing, that's why I don't have much to say."

He set his pad on the side table next to his chair. "Vivian, do you have the impression that I'm bad at my job? That I don't know when you're upset?"

"No."

"Then tell me what's going on?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I'm just tired, man. I don't sleep well here. It's not because of booze. You said yourself that alcohol withdrawal only lasts a week."

"Withdrawal symptoms, yes. But you've self-medicated yourself to sleep with alcohol for a long time."

"Whatever. I just can't sleep."

"And you're tired." He looked at me skeptically.

"I'm tired of everything, man. I'm tired of this place. I'm tired of shit happening to me. I lost someone I thought could be the love of my life. Then I found someone who was the love of my life. Then my grandmother told me to quit being a lesbian, so I wrecked her car. Then I lost the love of my life! Then I ended up here, and I fucking hate it here! Then my fucking storage space burned down this week, and I lost everything I had! Every single thing I own in the entire fucking world now is back in my stupid fucking dorm room in a fucking rehab center!"

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

"Thanks, that makes it all better," I snapped sarcastically.

"I know it doesn't. But I'm sorry, nonetheless."

"Bad shit keeps happening to me and I'm fucking tired of it. I want to spend a day in bed, and you guys won't let me. Get up at seven, breakfast with the patients! I can't fucking do anything to deal with my shit and I'm tired!" I was aware I was close to shouting but I didn't really give a shit.

"Can I ask a question?"

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "Sure."

"How much of your frustration is because you can't go to a bar to blow off steam?"

I lost it again.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie!" I yelled, supremely pissed off. "Of course, I'm pissed about that! I've lost everything! And yes! I want to go get fucking blasted, okay! I want to go to my bar, and order a beer and a shot and have my bartender bring it to me then slam both and order another round and then another until I can't see straight anymore and all this shit goes away for at least a little while!"

He handed me the box of tissues from the coffee table between us. I'd started crying.

"I've lost my life, Charlie! Even if I manage to get my job back, I lost a semester of school! I lost my apartment, I lost my girlfriend, and now I lost the skates she bought me! The only part of her I was going to get keep! Fuck, I just remembered I've lost the suit she bought me because she thought I'd look hot in it! I've lost every little piece of her! And I can't even get fucked up to forget about it for one day!"

The room was silent for a while.

"I'm sorry you're having a tough time."

"Whatever," I sniffed, holding a wad of tissues to my eyes.

"If you could go get drunk tonight, what would be different tomorrow?"

I took a deep breath, once again trying to calm down. Instead I got the hiccups.

"Nothing."

"So, what's in it for you?"

"I just... I just need to stop thinking about everything for, like... a minute."

"Vivian, getting drunk to forget your problems won't make them easier to deal with. But it does make you make bad decisions. It's a depressant, so it can make your brain take the worst possible outlook on things."

"I've been listening to you guys for two weeks. I know all this."

"Then why are you fighting so hard to avoid saying it?"

"Saying what?"

"That you're an alcoholic."

"What do you mean? I've been telling you for a week that I know I've got issues."

"Yes, you keep saying you 'have issues with alcohol', or you 'know you don't have the best relationship with alcohol'. But you won't say that you're an alcoholic."

"Man--"

"I'm not splitting hairs, Vivian. This program can work, but only if you want it to work. You're more than halfway through your stay here, and you haven't accepted step one. You haven't admitted you're powerless over your addiction, that it's made your life unmanageable."

I felt fresh tears welling up. "Because I don't want people to know I'm a loser."

"Being an alcoholic doesn't make you a loser, Vivian. It's a disease. A disease that can be overcome, if you are willing to work on it. I'm a recovering alcoholic. Dwayne is a recovering heroin addict. You think that driving drunk and crashing your grandmother's car makes you a loser. You think that cheating on Addison, instead of confronting her with your relationship problems makes you a loser. You think that whatever happened between you and Jane makes you a loser. By the way, we still need to get you to talk about her to me."

I tried to snort, but it came out as a half-sob.

"But those things didn't happen because you're an alcoholic. They happened because you were drinking. You don't have to do one because of the other, but to get there you have to admit you have a problem."

I sniffed, then wiped my nose with the wad of tissues in my hand. He was right. I'd been dodging it since I got here. And I knew it. When I'd come out to Abuela, she'd reacted just as I thought she would. And instead of talking to someone, Jane or Diego, or maybe Connie, I sat in a bar by myself and drank enough booze to floor most people. And then I'd gotten behind the wheel.

I looked up, but Charlie was just regarding me patiently. That damn, encouraging smile on his face.

When I'd been unsure of my footing with Addison, I'd gone to the bar. Alone, but ended up leaving with Astrid. Hell, even when I didn't have bad shit going on... I'd gotten drunk when I'd gone to The Hideout, met Lacy, and ended up breaking her ex's nose. I could have easily gone to jail that night.

Fuck, I'd even gotten drunk the night I met Jane's parents. If they hadn't been able to tell, it was only because I was good at hiding it.

Good at being drunk.

What had Charlie called me? A functioning alcoholic? God damn that described me. For that matter, how often had Jane even known I was drunk? I don't think she ever said anything about it, all the time we were together. I couldn't begin to count the number of times I'd gotten myself buzzed while I'd been with her.

"I..." I looked up at Charlie again. "I think I'm an alcoholic."

"You think so?"

"I'm an alcoholic." I felt a rush of tension leaving my chest. Something I'd been unaware I'd been holding on to. I felt like I could suddenly breathe, for the first time in forever.

I felt tears on my cheeks again, but this time it felt like... relief rather than grief or frustration.

"I'm an alcoholic."

"That's good, Vivian. Now we can actually work on that problem together."

"Can you do something for me?"

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Can you call me Viv?"

~~ Day Seventeen ~~

I'd woken up earlier than usual and snuck out of the dorms just before sunrise. I'm sure the P.A.s would have words for me if they'd caught me, but I imagined they'd be busy trying to get everyone else up for breakfast. The newbies required the most prodding to get them moving. Who really gives a shit about curfew at six in the morning, anyway? I wanted to get my walking in early, so I'd bundled up against the morning frost and hit the trail. After I did my four laps, I headed for my Introspection Spot (copyrighted and trademarked, all rights reserved).

I liked my dance playlists for walking. Most of the songs were the right beats-per-minute to keep a good pace, but invariably, I ended up stuck repeating some song with lyrics that I tortured myself with by the end of my laps. Yesterday's torture song had been Cool, and I'd wallowed in exactly how much that song reflected how Jane had made me feel when we'd been together... Rhonda made fun of me with how much Dua Lipa I played in our room.

"What's wrong with Dua Lipa?" I'd asked.

"Nothing at all. She's the most aggressively bisexual woman on the planet. I can respect that."

That had given me one of the rare good laughs I'd had in this place.

I had noticed that as much music that I was listening to, I'd had exactly zero urge to dance. I didn't so much as nod my head along with the music anymore, and I'd begun to wonder if trying to give up alcohol would also mean I'd never dance again. If everything I'd been through had killed that part of myself.

I hadn't settled on a song to punish myself with when I reached my bend in the path, and Time Of Our Lives came on. The song had always been one of my favorites. Anytime I was in a club and that song came on, if I wasn't on the dance floor, I'd head that way pronto.

I know my rent was gon' be late 'bout a week ago. I worked my ass off, but I still can't pay it though.

I was unmoved, as usual when the song came on, and I stood on the path staring at the Bay.

But I got just enough, to get up in this club. Have me a good time, before my time is up. Let's get it now!

The cold wind made me really wish I could zip my coat up, but with my cast it wasn't really an option. Pitbull got his groove on as I looked out over the waves.

This is the last twenty dollars I got, but I'ma have a good time ballin' tonight!

Tell the bartender, line up some shots, 'cause I'ma get l-o-o-o-o-s-e tonight!

I snorted a laugh. I liked Pitbull a lot, but almost all of his songs had to do with hitting a club, doing shots, random hookups. Melancholy settled over me as I realized that if I wanted to beat this addiction, my days of going to clubs might be done. I couldn't imagine hitting La Zona De Baile, dancing my ass off and not being able to have a mojito. Or four or five. The thought of my favorite dance club made me sad, thinking about when I'd taken Jane there for the first time. She'd looked so goddamn good in that black dress. She took such joy in everything. That's what I was going to miss about her the most. That and the kissing. She was so good at kissing.

Not for the first time, the thought crossed my mind that even if I could beat my addiction... did I want to? I'd lost Jane. I lost Abuela. What was the point? Maybe I could get sober and stay sober, but I wasn't at all sure about that. Even with my revelation with Charlie yesterday, my acceptance that I was an alcoholic, that I had that burden, my decision that I wanted to beat it... Holy fuck, did I want to go drink. Even this early in the morning. I wanted tequila. Right at this moment an hour after sunrise, I wanted tequila.

How was I supposed to go on if it was always going to be like this? I looked out at the icy waters of the Bay, remembering what Dwayne had told me about the guy who'd stripped down, waded into the water and started swimming. How Dwayne had said in the winter, the cold would probably kill you in minutes. Hell, with my broken wing, I'd probably drown before I'd gotten yards anyway.

The song came to the break towards the end and Pitbull spoke in my ear.

This is for everybody going through tough times, believe me, been there, done that.

But every day above ground is a great day, remember that!

A shudder went through my body. Why was I thinking like this?

Ne-Yo, chimed in, his voice filled with joy.

O-o-o-o-h, I want the time of my life, yeah! O-o-o-o-h, baby, give me the time of my life!

I felt my toe start tapping in time to the music. I was so surprised that I looked down to make sure I hadn't imagined it. The song ended, and I skipped back to the beginning, set it to repeat. By the time it played through the second time, I could feel my hips shaking the slightest bit.

I could have died. I should have died, I thought, the image of the ugly scar on my side where the tree branch that had shattered my arm, punched through my rib and collapsed my lung swimming into my mind. It could have gone into my heart or spine. I could be dead.

I could feel my shoulders moving, as much as I could with the sling. Most of the stabbing pain was gone, but it still twinged pretty good if I moved it wrong.

I don't want to be dead. Every day above ground is a great day, compared to the alternative, I thought.

I nodded my head in time with the beat and turned up the volume as loud as it would go.

Abuela doesn't want me in her life if I am going to be who I am, be out to her, but that doesn't mean I can't still make sure she's okay. If I can get sober... I can go back to school. Two more semesters and I'll have my associate degree. I doubt WMATA will ever let me in the apprenticeship program after what I've done, but I'll still have tuition reimbursement. If they won't let me in, then fuck 'em. I'll find some school around DC that will let me finish a four-year degree and go be an engineer for real. Jane wanted me to do that for myself anyway. I'll get my bachelor's degree and get a real job, and then I can make sure Diego has what he needs to take care of Abuela, even if I'm not a part of her life.

I spun around, my good arm above my head, grooving to the music. The song started over again, and now I was bouncing up and down like I was on the dance floor. By the fourth time it started over, I was moving like crazy, doing cross-over steps, bouncing back and forth, spinning in time to the music.

I've lost Jane. But she made me want to be better. If I can stay off the booze (fuck, I don't want to go the rest of life without booze) maybe I can stop being such a fuck-up.

I spun in place, my eyes closed, my free arm moving, my feet a blur. My shoulder was starting to ache, the dull throb growing into a sharp pain. The wound in my side was on fire, but I didn't care.

I'll always miss her. I may never get over her. But I want to always remember the good parts. It was almost all good parts with her. She made me happy. Addison made me doubt myself, made me feel like I wasn't worthy. She never loved me, she was all about her doctor chick. Jane made me the best version of myself. Or, the best version I could be while I was drunk, I was still a fuck up. Maybe if I can kick it, I can be an even better version. I don't want to spend my entire life regretting what could have been with Jane. I want to remember how good I had it with her, even if for the short time we were together. I--

"What the fuck!?" I screamed.

I'd opened my eyes as I completed another spin and found Dwayne standing on the path, watching me with a grin. I pulled my Air Pods out of my ears.

"Those were some killer moves, Vivian. I didn't know you were such a great dancer!"

"How long have you been standing there!?" I said, my chest heaving from exertion.

"Just a few seconds. I could see you getting after it from all the way down the path." He hooked his thumb back towards campus.

"You should really let a girl know when you're sneaking up on her."

"I called out to you twice. Guess you had your volume up a little too loud."

My heart started to slow down from the scare he'd given me. "I guess so."

"So, what's the occasion? What's got you in the mood for dancing? That's the most positive emotion I've seen from you since you got here."

"Well..." I said, then considered my answer. "I guess maybe I turned a corner this week."

"What corner was that?"

I smiled at him. "I'm an alcoholic, Dwayne. And I want more than anything to go get a margarita right this second, right now at eight in the morning, but I also know that I want to try not to be that person."

Dwayne smiled at me and gave me a nod. "That's great Vivian! Let's talk about that in group today."

"Okay," I said, with a smile of my own. "Call me Viv, though."

"You got it, Viv."

He gave me a pat on my good shoulder and took off to resume his run, and I put my Air Pods back in, pulled my iPod out of my pocket and hit pause. I felt that if I kept playing music, I'd keep dancing and I didn't think that would be very good for my shoulder, which was hurting like a bitch, so I swiped up the app to go to the home screen to switch to the Audible app to start a book.

I stopped in confusion. There were several red notifications on my home screen, showing I had a ton of texts and emails.

"What the hell?"

Oh, Diego connected this to his phone to put my new books on it yesterday. It must have downloaded all my mail and shit.

I looked around guiltily to make sure I was still alone on the shore. Patients weren't supposed to have contact with the outside world while we were here. I'd heard occasionally a patient would be caught with a smuggled cell phone. Something like that happens once, you get a warning, Twice and you get kicked out.

I'd tell Charlie about it in our session today. I wanted to be honest. But...

I opened the text app. Some from Connie. Just a couple from Diego. He knew I was here. A few from Manny and the other guys on my bowling team. I made myself not read them and closed the app. Then I thumbed open the email app, scrolling through the messages. I told myself I wouldn't read any, unless Abuela had emailed me. Every now and then she'd actually send an email, although usually only when she wanted to send me a shopping list or something. I was scrolling through hundreds of new emails, when I was struck by lightning.

Message from: Dr. Jane May

Subject: Hello

My thumb trembled as I opened the message. I was confused and disappointed for a second when the message appeared to be blank, but then I noticed the attachment. A video. I touched the icon and my heart skipped a beat as Jane appeared on my iPod.

I could tell she was sitting on the padded bench built into the front window of her living room, leaning back against the bookcase, her knees drawn up. She didn't look at the camera for several seconds. Finally, she turned and her eyes pierced my soul.

"Hello..." Then she paused, seeming to gather herself. Her recorded voice sounded like an angel in my ears. She cleared her throat and continued, her voice steadier. "Hello, Viv. I hope that you're okay. I've written about six emails to you, but as usual, my writing got dense and didn't do a good job of getting across what I want to say concisely and I kept deleting all the drafts. So..."

I smiled, but felt my lips quiver. She looked out the window again, gathering her thoughts.

"Your friend Connie walked into my office at school last week. She... ah... has a forceful personality."

I couldn't help but grin the tiniest bit at that completely accurate description of Connie.

"She told me that she caught you and her friend Mindy kissing in the bathroom, but she confronted Mindy about it after you went into the rehab place. She told me she wanted me to know that Mindy admitted she came onto you but you didn't do anything. Didn't want to do anything." She sighed heavily. "I can't pretend to understand what happened to you. To us. Because you didn't talk to me about it. Instead you lied to me and sent me on my way. I can't understand why you'd drink and drive. Or why you would lie to me about hooking up with Mindy. It's clear you wanted me out of your life."

She looked down, her eyes moist.

"I don't really get it. But... you made your choice, I suppose. It is what it is."

She looked back to the camera and her face held resolve.

"I hope you aren't really the person you told me you were at the hospital. I don't want the sadness that would bring to you in your life. I hope you get the help you need. I hope you conquer whatever demons you're fighting. I'm sorry I didn't see that you had a problem. I'm sorry things didn't work out between us. I'm sorry that... Well... about a lot of things. I hope things work out for you. I hope you finish your degree and get into the engineering thing at Metro, and... She heaved a sigh. I didn't get to say goodbye and that's been bothering me. So... Goodbye, Viv. It was fun."