The Journey Ch. 08

"I'd, uh, rather not say."

"Why? Now you have me too curious to drop it."

"It's just..." she cleared her throat, "It was my getting-over-you song. The one ended up listening to over and over when I was trying to make myself move on. Which I never did," she said hastily. "But I still get it stuck in my head now and then."

I laughed. "I won't hold it against you. The whole time I was in rehab I imagined you dancing in your living room to Don't Start, singing the lyrics about me."

"Oh, yeah that would have been a good one," she said with a grin.

"What was your break-up song then?"

"Sorry, Not Sorry," she said, a little embarrassed.

I theatrically winced. "Ouch! Yeah that's a good one too."

"Right?" she said, laughing.

"I definitely felt like I was playing with a savage when I walked up to your steps to apologize to you."

"As if."

"You're on fire, baby, and it burns."

"You say the nicest things."

She capped the bottle of polish and crawled up to kiss me.

After a long time of that, she sat back and we contentedly gazed at each other.

"I wish you didn't have to go," she said, breaking the silence.

"Me too. But I like having something to look forward to. Knowing I'll get to see you again gives me something good to focus on."

"I'm glad," she said, and her smile was everything to me.

~~ Washington, D.C., Two Weeks Later ~~

"My name's Viv, and I'm an alcoholic."

I took a nervous breath. This was a new meeting to me, a group I'd never met with before, but I plowed ahead.

"The last time I had a drink was... like, maybe an hour ago."

I tried to take a deeper breath, but it felt like there was an iron band around my chest. The sun had set and the dark windows along the wall echoed the despair I was feeling.

"I'm living in a half-way house, my rehab got me placed there for ninety days after I got out of their program. Tomorrow's my last day, and I haven't been able to find a place I could afford that I don't hate. I spent the entire day today taking buses and Lyfts around town trying desperately to find someplace, anyplace. It's looking like I'm going to have to sleep on my brother's couch for a while."

Diego had been calling me to check on me daily. The closer I got to the end of my time at the halfway house, the more insistent he'd gotten that I should move in with him and Virginia in their one-bedroom apartment.

"The last place I looked at today was a room for rent in a tiny townhouse a mile and a half away from the Springfield metro stop, no bus line. The dude was a total letch. When I said nine hundred seemed a little steep for renting a bedroom and having to share a bathroom with another tenant, he suggested we could 'work something out' to make it cost less."

I'd literally run out of there.

"I was thinking 'What's the point? I'll never find a decent place, I'll never get out of the financial hole I've put myself in,' and next thing I know, I'm walking past a liquor store, then I'm walking down the street with a pint of Hornito's in a brown paper bag."

I could still feel the buzz. I'd guzzled more than half the bottle before my phone had rang.

"Then my girlfriend called. Wanted to check on me, see how my house hunting was going. I said it'd been shit, I didn't know what I was going to do. I think she could hear it in my voice. She asked where I was, told me she was coming to pick me up and take me to dinner so we could talk about it."

I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"I panicked, tossed the bottle into a storm drain, ran into a convenience store and bought some Altoids. I'd eaten half of them by the time she showed up. And then... I don't know... I'd planned on not telling her, trying to skate by. I figured I'd call my sponsor tomorrow and figure it out. But then I got in the car and I saw her. Saw the concern on her face. And she asked if I was okay."

Tears started pouring down my cheeks.

"And then I was screaming at the windshield. No, I wasn't okay, I'm a fuck up, a worthless piece of shit! I couldn't handle my life, and I gave up and drank! I just pounded like five shots of tequila and I'm drunk and I don't know what I'm going to do! How I'm going to... how I'm gonna fix myself!"

"And then..." I felt the tears coming on hard again. "And then... she... s-she f-f-forgave me! S-s-she said it... it... was o-okay! Th-that she forgave me, th-that she needed me to f-f-forgive my-my-myself!" My nose had started to run. I roughly wiped my sleeve across it as I remembered Jane pulling me into a fierce hug.

"She said we'd get through it together, asked if I wanted her to call my sponsor for me or what I needed her to do. I said I didn't know. She asked if she could take me to a meeting where she'd been going to Al-Anon, at a church near her place. She said they had both A.A. and Al-Anon meetings at the same time for couples. I guess I nodded or something, because the next thing I knew we were pulling up to the church here and she walked me inside and she's in the meeting next door. Thank y'all for letting me go first by the way."

There were supportive nods and murmurs all around the room.

"Anyway. Now I've thrown like forty-five days of being sober down the fucking drain, and I still don't have a place to live, still don't know what I'm gonna do!"

I tried to take a deep breath, but it was ragged. I started hiccupping.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do." I said.

I looked around the room.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do," I whispered. I stood there for a long minute, until I realized I had nothing left to say, and I stumbled towards the chairs, my face screwing up as the tears started yet again.

The middle-aged woman in the front row was out of her chair and had me wrapped tightly in her arms before I knew what had happened. Just as fast other members of the group were there, and I was quickly surrounded in a supportive group hug, voices murmuring in my ear that I could find my way back, I could be okay, just focus on the program, focus on the good in my life.

As I managed to calm down, and people started to let me go, the woman who'd hugged me first whispered in my ear.

"You're going to be okay. You can make it. Focus on the fact you have someone in your life who cares about you and will be there for you. Someone who will forgive you and bring you to a place of safety and support when you need it."

I cried harder then, and she hugged me a bit longer. I whispered a thank you to her, walked to the back, sat in a chair by myself, and listened to everyone else share their stories of struggle.

At the end of my A.A. meeting, the Al-Anon meeting next door had let out at the same time and Jane was standing in the hallway, waiting for me. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet.

I stood petrified, certain I'd irrevocably fucked up again, until she closed the distance between us in a rush, thumping hard into me, her arms crushing my ribs.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I'm sorry I let you down again," I cried softly into her ear.

"Baby, no!" The pressure of her grip didn't let up an ounce. "You told me the truth. You didn't try to hide what happened from me for a second."

"But I was gonna lie... I was gonna... I—"

"You told me the truth!" she said firmly. "I don't care whether you meant to lie or planned to. The second you got in the car you told me the truth, and that's what I need from you. The rest we can work on together. Okay?"

I wept into her shoulder, oblivious to the other people filtering out of the two meetings around us.

"You're okay. We're okay," she whispered over and over.

I nodded against her shoulder. When I finally stopped crying, I lifted my head to look into her eyes.

"I... I just... thank you. Thank you, Jane. I'm not used to... I'm not used to someone having my back. I'm sorry I slipped up."

"It's okay," she said again. "What do you want to do now? Are you hungry?"

"I haven't been drunk in a long time. I'm pretty sleepy."

"Let's get you home then."

She led me back to the car, and I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window in a daze. I came back to reality when I realized she was turning off an alley into a garage.

"You took me to your place?"

"I'm going to put you to bed."

"But I can't. I have to get back to my half-way house," I said, looking at the clock on her dashboard. "My curfew is in an hour."

She turned off her car and hit the button for the garage door. As it slid down behind us, she turned to me and took my hand in hers.

"What are they going to do, kick you out? You're moving out tomorrow anyway. I'll call the counselor and let them know, but you're staying with me tonight."

She was right. Tomorrow I was supposed to pack up my few belongings and go... somewhere. Who cared if I wasn't back for curfew?

What little I remember of the rest of the night was just flashes. Jane helping me undress down to my t-shirt and underwear, tucking me into her soft, warm bed, pulling the feather comforter over me.

I fell asleep immediately, only briefly stirring when Jane got in bed later and snuggled me from behind.

My head was pounding when I woke up the next morning. The sunlight streaming through the window stabbed into my eyes, causing me to groan. Jane rolled over in her sleep, settling closer to me. I carefully sat up and leaned back against the headboard, which caused my stomach to roil.

I stared into the middle distance for a while, replaying the day before in my mind. Several times. Esparza, you pathetic, weak dumbass. I spied my phone on the nightstand.

Time to bite the bullet, I thought, as I reached for it to send a text.

Does that offer of a couch to surf still stand?

I dropped my phone onto my lap and stroked Jane's hair. Her eyes opened.

"Hey, baby," she said, as she stretched. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hammered shit. I don't remember hangovers being this bad. Guess when you have them all the time you get used to them."

She scooted over to lay her head on my thigh. I resumed the hair stroking.

"Want to go back to sleep? Maybe go to a Waffle House or something? I heard that's good for hangovers."

My stomach heaved again. "No thanks. I don't think I'll be wanting any food for a bit." My phone buzzed. I picked it up and checked the screen. It was a text from my brother.

You know it! Need a ride? I can come get you in an hour or so.

"Could you give me a ride home? I gotta get packed," I said.

Jane rolled over so she could look up at me.

"Where are you going to go?"

"Diego and Virginia's couch. Don't really have a choice for now. Hopefully it'll be short term, just until I can find something I can live with."

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

"What?" I asked.

"What if... what if you just moved in? Like... here. With me."

I could not have been more surprised if she'd asked if I wanted to fly to Paris for lunch.

"What if I... what?" was all I could manage.

"I know, it—"

"That's insane, Jane! I just fucked up and drank last night! How can you trust me enough to—"

"To give you a place to live where you'll have a support system? Someone to be here for you?"

"But..." My mind was spinning. "It's so... fast. I'm still working on myself. There's no guarantee that I'm going to get my shit together."

She reached up and stroked my cheek. "There's no guarantees in life, mi amor. For anyone. But I want us to work out. And if I can help make things better for you, I want to."

"I'm not sure you're ready for a mess like me in your life."

"You're already in my life."

I laughed bitterly. "I mean that far in your life."

She smiled. "In for a penny, in for a pound. What do you think?"

I thought about it. Living here, with Jane, every day? Part of me was thrilled by the idea. Part of me was scared to death.

The thought that Jane was all-in on us, so much so that she was willing to ask me to move in with her, was jaw dropping. She was so generous. To a fault, really. The question was, was it a good idea for me? For us? I'd never lived with a girlfriend before. Never even come close. I'd spend years avoiding anything resembling a commitment, and now Jane was asking me to live with her. Could I handle that? Could she? I was a slob, she was a neat freak. I wanted to come home after work and watch sports. She wanted to read and listen to music to relax. What if our living together soured her on me? What if being around her all the time drove me crazy? What if it didn't work out and that made me start drinking again? What if? What if?

What if?

"Viv? What do you think?"

I looked down into her gorgeous eyes.

"None of this makes any sense, you're too good."

She frowned "Viv, don't say that, I'm—"

"I don't mean you're too good for me, I want to think I've gotten over that particular hang-up, but Jesus, Jane. You're always willing to do what I need, you never mess up, never seem to have doubts. You never seem to... to need anything from me. You're just... always perfect, always there for me. It's... confusing."

She looked thoughtful. "I'm not perfect, Viv. Just because I'm in a place in my life now where I seem like I have everything under control doesn't mean I haven't been out of control. You should have met me when I was getting ready to defend my dissertation. I went through a messy breakup, mainly due to me being a scatterbrained mess about anything but my dissertation. I mean, now I feel like I have a handle on everything in my life and I can see how that could be... intimidating to you, I guess, while you're struggling with this newly realized problem of addiction. But I don't really see it that way. I've been looking for a partner my whole life. What I want in a partner is someone I'm attracted to," she reached up and stroked my cheek, "Check."

I grinned, despite myself. She continued.

"Someone who I have shared interests with, check. You're the best dancer I've ever dated, and you got to be a really good skater last summer."

"You know my skates burned up in the fire at my storage space, right?"

She waved her hand. "Pfft, we can fix that. And I want us to find a bowling team we can join together."

"That'd be fun. But I need a new ball too."

"I also want someone who challenges me, intellectually. That's you."

I frowned, but didn't say anything.

"I mean it, Viv. You're super smart. I know you consider your background rough compared to mine, but you have a penetrating mind and I love how you make me see things differently."

She rolled off my lap, and sat up on her knees facing me.

"Mostly, I love you Vivian Esparza. I never stopped. I missed you so much after we broke up, I cried almost every night the first month we were apart. I don't want that to happen again. I want you to move in with me," she reached out and caressed my cheek. "I want you to have a stable place where you can work on yourself, and on your degree and I want to be close to you, so I can be here when you need help."

I blinked away a tear. Jane was my everything now. I'd spent two months beating myself up for having blown it, having lost her. I felt a thrill of fear roll down my spine thinking about what could go wrong, but weeks of therapy made it possible for me to realize that was just my lizard brain talking, a remnant of my years of being a player, of avoiding commitment. And that wasn't who I wanted to be anymore. There were risks to this idea, but what was life, if not a series of risks in search of happiness?

"So? What do you think?" she asked.

"I think I've never U-Hauled with a girlfriend in my life, but... let's go get my stuff."

Jane threw her arms around my neck, pulling me into a fierce hug.

~~ Springfield, VA, March ~~

"I'm worried I'm driving her crazy," I said.

"In what way?"

I was at my weekly Thursday morning therapy session with Dr. Patricia Blythe. Charlie had been right that I'd like her, she was great. She'd been my rock, since I'd left rehab.

"'Cause I'm a slob, for one thing I guess. I try, but you know... I come home off the late shift and I just want to strip my clothes off, toss them in the corner and climb in bed with her. Then the next morning before I wake up she's already picked my clothes up and put them in the bathroom hamper. She always says it's no biggie, but, you know... Sometimes I can see she's irritated with me."

I'd been living with Jane for just over a month now, and it'd been good. Great, really. I loved coming home after my late driving shifts, crawling into bed and snuggling up behind her while she slept. I loved waking up with her and having breakfast before she headed off to work while I headed off to class, or to a meeting or therapy. Spending all weekend with her. Laying around talking. Her teaching me to cook her grandmother's recipes, me teaching her to cook Abuela's. Watching movies. Walking around our neighborhood, holding hands. Making love, everywhere in the apartment.

But there was that shitty little part of me that kept looking for the down side...

"I'll forget to put my dishes in the dishwasher and I'll catch her doing it for me, giving me a look. I like to have a movie or sports on TV in the background. She prefers music. She washes her toothbrush and puts it in a plastic holder in the medicine cabinet every time she uses it, for Chrissake. Who does that?"

"This sounds like two people learning to live together. There's always periods of adjustment to having someone new in your space all the time."

"I guess." I looked out the window.

"So, what's really upsetting you?"

I sighed. "Not sure."

"Is it living with Jane, or something else?"

"I just... I'm doing the program, I'm going to school. I haven't had a drink since I moved in with her. But..."

"Go on."

"I still want to drink. Every day. I'm going to school because I had this idea of getting into the engineering apprenticeship at Metro, but after my drinking and driving incident and rehab fiasco, I doubt they'll even take my application. So I get my associates degree and then what? I'm still a train driver, thanks to my union rep. I guess I could keep going, get a bachelor's degree. It'd take me a few more years. Then what? And am I going to drive nights for two years and come home every night, hours after Jane's gone to sleep? And how long am I going to be spending any moment my brain is unoccupied thinking about how much I want to get drunk? I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels. And if I'm just spinning my wheels, how long will Jane find me interesting?"

"Well, that's a lot at once. Let's try and cut through some of that. What's the one thing that worries you the most?"

I leaned my cheek on my fist, my elbow on the arm of the leather chair. "I guess... I feel like I don't have a plan or purpose for my life. And if I don't have a purpose, I can't understand how Jane..." I trailed off.

"I've only been seeing you for a couple of months, but this is a recurring theme with you. Your big breakup with her happened because you didn't understand how she could love you, so you pushed her away. Do you see yourself doing the same thing again?"

"No... I'm not going to make that mistake again. But I don't feel like I have any direction. She's so driven and focused on her career. She just started working on her second book! I feel like I need to have something like that too."

"So that she'll love you?"

I was silent for a long time. Dr. Blythe waited patiently.

"No. So I'll be happy with myself. If I don't have a purpose in life, I think I'll always feel like I'm shortchanging myself, wasting my life. And if I'm not... I feel like if I'm not living up to my potential, then I'm shortchanging Jane. I won't be a good partner to her. And I mean... eventually, her just loving me won't be enough. Will it?"