20. Chase
TWENTY
CHASE
TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
The voices repeat the phrase in unison, echoing off the walls in the basement of the church. The silence lingers for a few moments afterward, and I blink slowly, staring at everyone sitting in the fold-out chairs in front of where I stand.
“Thanks to everyone who showed up tonight. I know it’s hard, but you’re here, and we take it a day at a time. So whether you shared or just listened, thank you,” I say. “See you next week, same time, same place.”
I’m not a big proponent for God, but Nar-Anon’s message is more about surrendering control to whatever higher power you choose to believe in. It’s a crucial part of recovery, and while I’m not sure what that higher power is, I do believe there is one.
I have to believe there is one.
Two years ago, I finally opened up more to Doc, letting him read my journal entries. It’s been a lot of inner work, but I’ve recognized how the drug addictions of my mom and sister were the biggest factors in shaping how I handle relationships. In shaping how I handle life.
I had never heard of Nar/Al-Anon groups, but Doc gave me pamphlets and explained how they were support groups similar to Alcoholics Anonymous, but for family members affected by addiction of their loved ones.
It took me two months to get the courage to go to a meeting. Six months to tell my story, but once I did, it was like a large boulder started getting chipped away, and the more I spoke, the less heavy it felt. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel so alone. And so began the biggest strides in my healing.
Four months ago, the woman who ran the local group here moved to Georgia, leaving a spot open for someone new to maintain it. I have no idea how it happened, but that someone became me.
I’m twenty-eight years old and it’s the first time I can say I’m content with myself, but I guess that’s what happens when you aren’t harboring a lifetime’s worth of self-hatred. That anger I spent years trying to douse is still there sometimes, but now I have the tools to keep it at a simmer instead of letting it erupt into an inferno every time something happens.
The hardest part has been facing my self-loathing from my culpability in Lily’s downward spiral. I’ve struggled with it, but I’ve accepted she was battling her own demons, just like I was, and hers had nothing to do with me . Still, it’s a regret I’ll live with the rest of my life, knowing I chose to be ignorant to her pain.
Accept the things I cannot change.
I’ve tried to do the same work within myself over how I treated Goldi, but it’s not quite as successful. Our “relationship” spanned seven years, and I can only remember one where she seemed genuinely happy. Guilt isn’t a strong enough word for the emotion that drowns my body when I think of how badly I treated her. Of how much she must hate me.
So I write about her in my journals. Let Doc ask about her in my sessions. Open up about the pain of losing her in group.
People tell me first love is always susceptible to damage. It’s fiery, intense, and usually burns out quickly. They say to forgive myself and move on. But they don’t understand it’s not my forgiveness that’s needed.
I think about her all the fucking time, allowing myself to delve into soft honey-blond hair and the comforting scent of vanilla. It’s self-inflicted torture remembering how every cell in my body reached out to fuse with hers. The feeling is still so intense, I’m convinced my memory exaggerates how strong our connection was, but I revel in it all the same.
I’m sure she’s long gone from Sugarlake by now. On to bigger and better things.
Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy.
Marissa zips her black pencil skirt and bends to slip on her high heels. My eyes track the movement, arousal spearing through me when she stands and turns, hands on her hips.
“See something you like?” she purrs, walking over to where I’m perched on the edge of the bed to give me a kiss.
“Just admiring the view.” I smirk, palming her ass and pulling her into me.
Marissa surprised me last night, saying she had something “special” to give me. I was a little annoyed she showed up unannounced, but then she sucked me down her throat and rode me until I nearly passed out from exhaustion, and so I let her stay the night.
It’s the least I could do after she put on such a show.
“You know, if you gave me a key, then I could have been waiting in your bed… naked .” She wraps her arms around my neck, peering at me from beneath her mascara-caked lashes.
I sigh, leaning my head back.
We’ve been together for three years, but I’ve been honest with her from the get-go about keeping things casual. I’m not interested in a serious relationship. I care about her, but it wouldn’t be fair to promise something I’m not sure I can give, and while I keep waiting for that moment where a spark ignites, it still hasn’t happened, and it doesn’t feel right to force it.
But I suppose it’s natural that after a certain amount of time, she’d start to want more.
Maybe if I hadn’t met my soulmate when I was thirteen and lost her when I was twenty, I would be able to feel for Marissa the way I suspect she’s starting to feel for me. But I did meet my soulmate when I was thirteen, and I don’t feel that way about Marissa. I’ve tried to let her loose, urged her to meet someone who can give her everything she wants, but she sticks around, showing up and putting her pussy on a platter, insisting I’m enough.
So I’ll give her the parts of me I can.
Marissa frowns. “Look, Chase, I’m not asking for a ring, hell, I’m not even asking for us to move in together, which if I was, after three years, could you really blame me? All I’m asking for is a level of trust. For you to show me that you want me in your life.”
I run my fingers through my hair, blowing out a breath, the guilt pressing down on my chest.
Fuck it. “Okay, I’ll get you a key made, but, Marissa, I’ve been honest with you from the beginning. I’m trying here, I am. Slow is what I need. Don’t push me for more than I’m ready to give.”
A smile lights up her face and she pecks my lips. “I think you’re worth the wait. Your parents are in town tonight, right? What time are you meeting them?”
“Six. Do you want to come?” I ask.
Sometimes she tags along, but I’m hoping she says no. Spending quality time with the parents is literally the opposite of slow, and after me conceding to her on the whole key issue, I don’t think I can take any more today.
“I’d love to, but I need to lay out these designs for the McKenzie project. I’ll be locked in my cave for the rest of the night.” She pouts, and I hide the relief flowing through me.
I shrug. “No loss. I’m sure Anna will be disappointed you’re not there, but it’ll be the same shit, different day, catching up on what’s happening in our lives.”
“You mean your life.”
“What?” I look at her, my eyebrows drawing together.
“You had to have realized the conversation always centers around you and how you’re doing here . I don’t think I’ve ever heard them so much as mention anyone or anything from your hometown. Which, now that I think about it, is a little weird, don’t you think? Their whole life is there, but they never say a word.”
I let her words sink in, marinating in my brain. Is that true? Sam and Anna both know all things Sugarlake is a sore spot for me. I run through our past few dinners, realizing they’ve never once steered the conversation toward themselves. Fuck my life. All these years later, I’m still acting like a selfish prick.
Marissa unwraps herself from me and walks over to my dresser, picking up her earrings lying on the top and putting them in, one at a time. “You don’t think they’re hiding something from you, do you?”
I scoff. “No.”
She lifts a brow like she’s waiting for me to elaborate, but she’ll be waiting a long time. No way in hell I’m bringing up my past with her.
Even though Marissa doesn’t come with me to the restaurant, her words from earlier are stuck on a loop in my brain, making me feel like the biggest piece of shit to walk the planet.
I’ll make an effort tonight, though. Ask about them for a change, even if the thought of hearing anything Sugarlake makes me sick to my stomach.
They’re already seated when I arrive at the restaurant, and there’s a tension in the air surrounding the three of us I haven’t felt in years. It has me on edge.
I sip my beer, guilt billowing inside me. “So, what’s been going on with you two?”
They share a look, and Anna places her hand on Sam’s arm in a soothing gesture.
Sam rubs his forehead. “Well, there’s actually been some things we need to talk to you about…with my health.”
My beer goes down the wrong pipe, causing me to cough and sputter.
“Shit, that came out wrong. Don’t worry,” he rushes out. “It’s nothing life-threatening, just a repetitive strain injury with my back. It’s really not a big deal?—”
Anna throws him a sharp look. “It is a big deal. He’s been strongly advised by his doctor to go into retirement ’cause of this musculoskeletal disorder. If he continues to work, it’ll only get worse.”
Sam grimaces. “I’m fine. Just a twinge in the back that makes it hard for me to be in the trenches with the guys on-site.”
Well, shit.
MSD is pretty common in construction. It’s not unusual for workers to get strains on their ligaments and joints, causing restricted movement and severe pain, making it almost impossible for them to continue working. I’ve seen it before, but I never thought it would happen to Sam.
“Shit, Sam. That sucks.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask.
“Well, you know what they say.” He chuckles. “‘Happy wife, happy life.’ Anna wants me to go into early retirement, and bring on someone else to run the company.”
His eyes meet mine, and my stomach fills with lead.
Anna nods, rubbing his forearm and gazing at him lovingly. “It’s time to step back and enjoy the benefits of ownin’ a company without the risks of workin’.”
Sam’s face softens, giving her a quick kiss before leveling me with a heavy stare. “Listen, I know we’ve already talked about this a million times, and I know more than likely, you’ll turn me down again.” He hangs his head, staring at the table, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “But before I go through the process of figuring out who I’ll bring in—of figuring out who I trust enough to run everything I’ve spent years building—I have to try one more time.” He raises his face until his gaze pins me in place. “Son, there’s no one I’d want to run my company more than you.”
I blink at him, anxiety scratching up my insides, making a sour tang hit the back of my mouth and the edges of my vision grow splotchy. I feel like I might pass out or throw up, I’m not sure which. I tamp it down and try to think logically. I’ve built a life here. I have a career I enjoy, respect from my peers, a girlfriend, a support system. In Sugarlake, there’s nothing but painful memories and a group of people who made it very clear I wasn’t welcome.
But it’s Sam.
Everything I am, the man I’ve become is all thanks to him and Anna.
If they need me, then I owe it to them to get over my shit and show the fuck up.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Journal Entry #312
I’ve talked to Doc about a lot over the past years. Basically vomited out the words so they wouldn’t keep rotting me from the inside out.
But this one is a memory I’d prefer to forget.
So hopefully, purging it onto the pages will make it feel a little less heavy in my heart.
I was eight when mom decided she wanted a new life. I remember how she ran into my room bright and early, picking me up out of bed and swinging me around while she sang in my ear. I always craved her touch, so I laid my head on her shoulder and breathed in deep, memorizing the smell and feel of her. I never knew when the next time we’d be this close was.
She sat me and Lily down, dreaming out loud about a magical city called Nashville. She had watched the movie The Thing Called Love and decided it was where we belonged.
Mom was always getting fancy ideas when she was manic, but deciding to up and move us was extreme even for her.
But I was still a young boy, eager to believe in fairy tales. So, I nodded my head as she spoke, my belly filled with butterflies over the thought of going somewhere that our lives could change. Somewhere mom would be happier.
So, we went. That fucking day. Packed up what little belongings we had, piled into our beat-up Honda, and started driving. I don’t know how long the trip lasted, but every once in a while, Mom would pull over at a gas station and take her “medicine” before we got back on the road. I wasn’t an idiot—young, but not naive to the ugly truths. But what the fuck was I supposed to do? My main priority was looking out for Lily, not trying to dig my mom out of a hole she fell in before I even existed.
I remember her mood shifting hours into the drive. She started cursing and looking at the map. She told us she got lost and needed to stop and ask directions, so she pulled over at another station in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee. Said we would rest awhile and had me take Lily to a small, patchy area of grass around the side of the building. Then she left, walking inside the station to ask for directions, and said she’d be right back. I wanted to go in with her, but she told me to wait instead.
So I did. And we waited. And fucking waited. Eventually, I took Lily and went inside to find her.
But like a ghost, she was gone.
It wasn’t the first time she forgot us, but she’d always show back up eventually. The drugs had a way of doing that, of making her not care about the things she was supposed to care about the most. When the high wore off, she’d remember.
I sat with Lily on the sidewalk in front of the gas station, watching random people filter in and out, the sun dipping beneath the horizon and the chill of the night seeping into my bones. Little bugs with lights on their ass started lighting up in the blades of grass, and with every moment Mom stayed gone, the fear and anger burned a little brighter. I hid it because I didn’t want Lily to realize something was wrong.
It was a defining moment of my life, the moment I realized she wasn’t actually coming back.
That’s when I learned you can never trust anybody, but you can always trust them to be who they are.
And my mom was the worst kind of junkie.