Chapter 30
Olive
I’m so sick of crying, not just from the last twenty-four hours, but from my entire life. I’m tired. Why does it all have to be so depressing? Why can’t it be easy? Why can’t something work out for me?
Because life is more than unfair. She’s a vengeful bitch that makes us atone for sins we have no idea we committed.
My chest heaves from the emotions exploding from me. My entire being hurts. My body. My soul. My spirit. It’s all in shambles.
And I’m alone.
When I walked into the lobby and saw Nate, my heart screamed to tell him everything.
To lay it all out for him and see what he would do with the trauma dump I unleashed.
It was hard enough to ignore his texts and calls.
And his knocking on my hotel room door. But seeing him in person, that look of concern lining each handsome feature on his face, was almost enough to break me.
But I knew there was no point. I knew how it would end.
And it looks like I didn’t even have to tell him everything for him to decide I wasn’t worth it.
All it took was me not telling him, and he was done.
When he stepped to the side and told me to go outside, it was such an apparent dismissal that I almost begged him to be patient with me.
The feelings I have for him are so new and scary.
It’s hard to navigate them while also trying to keep my brother alive.
It’s too overwhelming. But I didn’t think I could handle the possible rejection if I had.
Not in the middle of the lobby, in front of strangers and the people I work with.
So I walked away, leaving my heart torn to shreds at his feet.
Then, to add to my heartbreak, seeing Jenny cuddling up to him was too much for me to handle.
I always knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to deal with the pain of losing Nate, and I fear I may have been correct.
We’re in San Francisco for a few days, and I don’t plan to leave my room unless absolutely necessary. My sanity needs a break. Some alone time to try to get myself together. I also have some work to do to figure out how to get the money I need for Marcus.
My sobs have thankfully subsided as I stand on unstable legs and make my way to the bathroom. Filling a glass, I chug it, then I do the same to a second glass. Maybe that’ll help me prevent the headache I’ll eventually get from crying so much.
My ringing phone has my heartbeat skipping.
Maybe it’s Nate.
I rush back into my room to grab it, recognizing the rehab facility number that Benny has called me from before. My shoulders drop in what I can’t decide is relief or disappointment. Before I can examine those feelings too deeply, I connect the call.
“Hello? Benny?”
“Olive.” His voice, so filled with distress, cuts me deep. “Where are you?”
I blow out a breath before answering. “I’m in San Francisco.”
He doesn’t respond for a beat. “When are you coming back?”
Technically, there isn’t a break in the tour for another three weeks.
But since I’m now on a deadline to make another payment to Marcus, I’ll have to spend money that I don’t have to come home early.
But since I also can’t afford to miss work, the trip home will be for only as long as it takes to drop off the money.
That is, if I can figure out where to get it. “Probably not for a few weeks.”
“I don’t think this is working.”
The hand not holding my phone clenches into a fist where it sits on my thigh.
“Benny, we talked about this. You need to stay there. You’re almost done with treatment.
We need this to work so that you can live life the way you want to, the way we’ve always talked about.
” I close my eyes, pleading with the universe to help me out here.
“Don’t you want to be happy and not have to live on this rollercoaster? ”
“Olive, you know I do.” He scoffs in frustration. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Explain it to me. Tell me what’s going on in your mind so I can understand,” I beg my brother.
I don’t even know where he’s going with this or what he thinks I don’t understand.
I never claim to understand being on the other side of addiction, but there’s so much I see and feel on the outside that he misses.
I’m not sure there’s anything he would tell me that would convince me that inpatient treatment isn’t the best place for him.
“Never mind. This is pointless, talking to you.” Benny’s hateful tone hurts me, but it isn’t the first time I’m on the receiving end of his anger.
Sisters make the easy target, especially when they aren’t giving in and allowing you to do whatever you want, no matter how harmful those things are.
“Maybe I’ll see you around when you come back to town. ”
I sit up straight, my muscles seizing. “What the hell does that mean, Benny? Why wouldn’t you see me when I get back?”
“It doesn’t matter, Olive. I’m going to let you go.”
“Benny,” I practically yell into the phone when I hear the call disconnect.
Even though I just talked to him last night, I text James, asking—or more like begging—him to go check on Benny. I explain what he said so James understands my concerns.
James: I’ll go right now, Olive. I know this is easier said than done, but please don’t stress too much. Just keep doing what you’re doing.
I fall back onto the bed, letting my phone slip from my hand.
My eyes focus on a small crack running along the ceiling.
Focusing on that one thing helps ground me some.
It allows me a moment to assess where I’m at—emotionally and mentally.
I feel like it might be concerning how I can go from sobbing to completely numb in a matter of minutes.
It’s as if my nervous system overheated and had to shut down to protect itself from combusting.
If I was still going to therapy, I would ask my therapist. I had to stop going the last time Benny was in rehab because I couldn’t afford it.
I know what I’ll do.
Grabbing my phone, I pull up the browser and look up what I need.
Less than a mile walk, and I have forty-five minutes.
I quickly change my clothes into jeans and a tank top before heading to the lobby.
As I step off the elevator, I shove my sunglasses on my face to hide the remnants of my tears, not glancing around the lobby in case anyone I know happens to be around.
I step into the fresh air and suck in a lungful. Even the walk in the sunshine and fresh air is cleansing to my soul, even before I arrive at my destination.
I walk a few more blocks before stopping outside an ornate building.
Looking up at the sign to make sure I’m in the right place, I pull open the heavy door to the library.
I push my sunglasses into my hair as my eyes adjust to the dim light.
Once I spot the sign I’m looking for pointing to a small room off the main lobby, I take off in that direction.
As soon as I enter the room, I’m greeted by the kind smile of a stranger.
“Hi! Welcome!” An older woman in her mid-fifties hurries over to me. “I’m Meredith. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“Nice to meet you, Meredith. My name is Olive. I’m here from out of town.”
Her knowing smile almost has the numbness from earlier subsiding altogether. She squeezes my bicep in a comforting gesture. “I’m glad you are here.” She gestures to a table on the side of the small room. “We have some coffee and donuts. Please, help yourself.”
I wander away from her as more people file in behind me.
Fixing a cup of coffee, I grab a donut before settling into one of the chairs arranged in a circle around the small room.
I eat the donut as I watch others fill the seats around me, giving the two people who sit on either side of me weak smiles in greeting, but none of us speak.
When all but five of the chairs are filled, Meredith closes the door, takes her seat, and addresses the group.
“It’s so wonderful to see all of you. We have a lot of familiar faces and some new ones.
” Her smile is warm as she looks around the group.
“Just as a reminder, first names only, for you and your loved ones. For the newcomers today, I would love to tell you a little bit about my story.”
Meredith proceeds to tell us the story of her only son, who struggled with drug addiction for many years before finally overcoming it.
He’s now leading a productive life and has been able to see his children more often because of his commitment to staying sober for them.
I always love to hear these stories, especially when I’m at my most desperate, clinging to any crumb of hope that Benny can live a similar success story.
“Okay, who would like to go next?”
Without hesitating, I raise my hand. “I would like to, if that’s okay.”
“Of course, please.”
I stand carefully, happy when my legs are steadier than the rest of me.
Wetting my lips nervously, I begin, “Hi, my name is Olive. My brother Benny is an addict who’s currently in rehab for the fifth or maybe sixth time.
I don’t even know anymore. I’ve lost count…
and I…I don’t know how many more times I can do this. ”