Chapter 11 Asher
ASHER
My hands shook as I climbed out of the car, leaving the driver behind to fend for himself. He had instructions to pick me up right here in front of this church when the meeting was over but that was about all I could manage.
I was sicker than a dog, shaking and pale.
My chest hurt and my head felt like a warzone on multiple fronts, but I forced myself out of my house to this meeting to meet Robert because he insisted I needed the support, especially in these early days.
After the way I'd been feeling the past twenty-four hours since Veda left my home—refusing to sleep over like I requested—I believed him.
At this point, I'd have drunk just to stop the shakes from killing me, but I knew that wasn't the answer. So here I was, five minutes late to a meeting that I didn't want to attend at the behest of a man who should be seeing me as strong and capable, not the broken degenerate I knew myself to be.
Robert sat in the back row again, right where I was seated at the last meeting, and he looked up when I walked in.
He smiled, patting the seat next to him and I felt several sets of eyes turn to stare at me.
For now no one knew who I was because at the last meeting I’d refused to speak.
I didn't know if that was normal or not, but I also didn't know how comfortable I felt giving my real name and talking to these people.
Asher Locke wasn't supposed to be in a basement of a church confessing his sins and addictions.
I was the son of a wealthy businessman who handed everything over in an inheritance.
Yet, I'd squandered the past few years of my life and everything my father worked hard to build because losing the one thing that mattered most to me hurt so bad I couldn't even talk about it.
My head hung as I listened to the guys open up.
This meeting was all men, no ladies in the group tonight, so they were a little more honest, about the fact that their alcoholism drove them to other addictions like gambling and porn.
I learned that overlapping addictions like that were common in most addicts because when it came down to it, addiction wasn't a weakness problem it was a knowledge problem—knowing how to handle negative emotions and life circumstances often eliminated the need to hide in substance abuse.
One by one they took turns talking until it was my turn. The entire room went quiet as they waited, and rather than waving it off again, this time I sat a little straighter and with Robert there for moral support I opened up.
"Hello," I grunted quietly. "My name is Asher, and I'm an alcoholic." The words felt painful leaving my chest, but they were necessary. "I'm… uh… I think seventy-two hours sober and I’m miserable. This is hard."
"Hi, Asher," came the group's reply, and a few chuckles erupted too.
"We’ve all been there," one man said gently, and they got quiet again, giving me space to talk.
"I've been drinking most of my life, but the alcoholism didn't really start until about two years ago when my wife died.
" I got choked up, and tears welled up in my eyes, but these men all offered hushed words of comfort.
I let the tears flow for a moment as I continued.
"My wife was uh… She was four months pregnant with our first baby when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and the baby just wasn't ready to come yet.
We had to terminate to try to save her life… and she, uh…" I couldn’t finish.
No matter how hard I tried to form the words, all that would come were tears. First it was Robert's hand on my shoulder, then a man on the other side of me moved closer and offered a tissue.
When Mike, the man from the previous meeting, walked up and crouched in front of me, I felt like I was amongst brothers. "Yeah, it's alright, man. Let it out."
All of them surrounded me as I offered little tidbits of how life had been, how I had spiraled and by the time I was finished with my story, I felt better, like a ton of bricks had been plucked off my back and the weight finally lifted.
I ended with my vow to these men that I intended to check myself into rehab, and they all congratulated me and shook my hand.
"I'm proud of you, Asher. You’re doing the right thing." Robert was there beside me as the meeting ended and he walked me out to my car.
"It feels like the hardest thing I've ever done, Bob." My eyes still burned and my nose still ran freely, but I did feel better. He was right. These meetings really did help, and if I could help it at all, I planned to show up to as many as possible for as long as I felt I needed them.
"You're going to do fine, kid." Robert squeezed my shoulder and opened my car door for me. "I'll clear everything with the board. You take care of yourself, and keep my number on you in case you need me."
I sank into my car and thanked him again before he shut the door and the driver took off. I had it set in my head that I was planning to head into the hospital in the morning. Tonight my plan was to survive and nothing more.
I settled in for the drive home, but the cloying ache in my chest to find something—anything—to silence the thoughts spinning through my head wouldn’t stop.
I never knew how bad I was at self-soothing and comforting myself in times of frustration or stress until I took away the alcohol.
Only then did I realize that I had reached for a drink to help me unwind and bury my emotions long before Emma's death.
And thinking of Emma naturally led me to thinking of Veda.
When I decided to cut back on my drinking she was the reason.
Her stubbornness and the way she called me out was a wake up call.
I wanted to be sober because I was embarrassed by how easily she called me out without shame.
But I wanted to be sober because I found her to be a most intoxicating and alluring woman, someone I could see myself falling for, and I wanted her to find me just as appealing.
But now I found myself thinking that being sober wasn’t just about Veda or being the man she wanted.
It was about me not using a crutch to bury emotions I should be feeling.
I was hung up on my father's expectations as I pushed myself to test my own limits.
I was hung up on Emma's death as I replayed every moment with her and hated myself that I couldn’t stop the cancer or save our baby.
And I was embarrassed of myself for how I let my work go and got lazy, and It all kept me trapped in a vicious cycle where I kept reaching for the bottle instead of learning how to handle situations in life that were shocking or difficult.
I wanted to be sober for me. Not for Veda though she was definitely still part of this equation. I'd never met a woman like her in my life and god help me, if I'd have met Veda before I met Emma, maybe I'd have fallen for her first. Or maybe not.
I chuckled to myself as I thought of how young Veda really was and what a shock it would be if anyone found out I'd slept with her. Drunk or not, it was a huge age gap and something that would shock the logical world. But I didn’t look at her as a number of how many years she'd been alive.
I looked at Veda for the woman she was, and the woman I wanted in my life. If love at first sight wasn't a thing, then love wasn’t a thing. Because the instant Veda showed me she could see past all my mess into the man I really was inside, I fell hard.
My hand was moving, reaching for my phone as action solidified around that thought. I dialed Veda's number, half expecting her not to answer this call so late on a Friday night, but she picked up on the first ring.
"Asher, are you okay?" She sounded breathless and worried, and I smiled that she cared so much.
"I'm perfect now that I can hear your voice." I leaned back and shut my eyes as she made a sound of appreciation.
"That was sweet… I thought you were going to rehab?"
"I am, baby." The slip to our pillow talk was natural.
We weren't nearly close enough to use pet names, but it felt right.
Just as right as it felt to say, "I want you in my life, Ms. Porter.
I'm going to the hospital in the morning and checking myself into the rehab unit, but when I get out, I want you.
And I don't mean sex. I told you when this started I don’t just do flings.
I want something real, and now that I'm getting sober, I want you for real. "
"Asher," she started but I didn't let her finish. Her tone of hesitation had me on edge. I refused to let her reservations get between us. I knew what a miserable man I was when I was drinking, but that was all Veda knew. She didn’t know Asher Locke, the powerhouse CEO who made things happen.
"Veda, I mean it. You are an incredible woman and not just because you say the right things when I bend you over.
" It sounded smutty, but my heart was to let her know what I really thought.
"You marched into my life and I'm changing because of you.
I don't want to know what life as a sober man is like unless you're in it. Do you understand?"
The line was quiet for a minute and she said, "Yes, I understand, bud, and I am so proud of you." I believed her when she said that, but I still felt like I had a ways to go to prove to her that I could be the man she wanted. "But I'm working at the bar, okay? I have to go."
"Alright, baby. Work hard. I'll call you when I'm allowed to."
Veda hung up without saying goodbye but I felt like I had at least communicated my desperation to her.
I fully intended to take this journey seriously.
I wanted to be like Robert who had thirty years sober, or Mike, who was at twelve years.
And more than that I wanted to be stable and prove to myself that life couldn’t kill me, or even knock me down.
I would beat this, and I would rise from those ashes to show Clayton and my board that men like me don't lie down and quit.
And hopefully when it was all said and done, I'd get the girl too.