24. Brian
When Jessica storms out of my house, eyes red and cheeks flushed, I lose all my bearings. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashes over me, making it impossible to stand. Before I know it, I’m on the floor, my back slumped against the wall as I struggle to make sense of the chaos she left behind.
What am I losing? What am I gaining?The lines between what I want and what I need begin to blur, making it difficult to choose what to sacrifice.
My throat is dry, and I suddenly crave a glass of vodka.
A languid groan escapes my lips as I push myself off the floor and stomp to the kitchen. I look inside the liquor cabinet, a half empty bottle catching my eye. I reach for it, then grab a tumbler and fill it halfway. I don’t care for ice right now. My fingers grip the glass so tightly, I’m sure it’ll break before it reaches my lips.
It doesn’t.
The liquid settles in my mouth for a moment before sliding down my throat with some effort, the heat it carries spreading through my veins. I wish the effects would kick in immediately, but after two more glasses, it remains a distant wish.
My wobbly feet return me to the living room, and I collapse on the couch. Alcohol never helps, but I always forget that until it’s infused in my system and all the worries that I’m avoiding intensify, and I can’t think of anything else.
It was meant to be perfect. A chance to redeem myself and experience love again. But in classic Brian behavior, I mess things up.
I sigh. My eyes weigh heavily with sleep and depression. They begin to close when the sound of my door opening wakes me up, and I jump up from sleep.
Could it be?
Greg walks in.
I drop my body back on the sofa. “What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“Terrible.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
My ears twitch as his footsteps get closer, and when they stop, I feel him hovering over me.
“What’s the big deal, man? You only just met this girl. It can’t be that serious.”
It is.
It’s more serious than I want it to be. It’s so serious that I’m questioning my dreams and life’s work. How much more serious does it need to get before he realizes how hard this is for me?
“You’re not helping, Greg.”
He scoffs. “Maybe that’s because I don’t even know what’s going on here.”
Heaving, my chest rises and falls.
“What’s up, bud? I’m your friend. Let me in. Let me help.”
“I don’t think you can.”
“And how are you so sure?”
“Because I’m in love with her, and there’s nothing you or I can do about it. I love her, and now I’m about to leave her after promising I’ve changed.”
“Is this about Sonya or Moe again?” He suggests, his tone marked with concern.
“Actually, for the first time in a long time, it’s not about either. This is about me and Jessica.”
His eyes swarm with interest. “You do love her.”
“I’m shocked myself.”
“And how does she feel about this?”
“I haven’t even told her. She was just here expressing her feelings, and I stayed quiet.”
I jump up on the couch again, startling Greg with my sudden motion. Resting my elbows on my knees, I shove my face in my palms. “I haven’t told her, Greg. There’s still time to, right?”
A soft smile creases his lips as he tilts his head. “Yeah, for sure. But time isn’t on your side. It’s not waiting for you…for anyone. Besides, what would change by telling her now?”
“I dunno, but if I have even the slightest chance at winning her back, I’ll take it. And if it doesn’t work, I’ll figure something out. I’m not leaving South Brook without Jessica Walsh.”
You know what? Alcohol does work.