Chapter 2 #3
“Yes, but you’re in recovery now,” Dad said, and something about the way he so readily agreed with my description of myself stung, but he’d never been one to beat around the bush or lie to save my feelings.
He was direct when he needed to be. And besides, my ex-wife and my daughter weren’t the only ones I’d hurt with my addiction.
My parents and sister had suffered, too.
I’d put them all through hell, and it was the main reason I was so determined to be better now.
I refused to be the cause of a single moment of pain for them ever again.
“I think Shannon can see you’ve changed,” Dad went on. “You guys just need to take things slow, let her learn how to trust you again.”
“I know that. I’m taking Zara to school on Monday.”
Mam met my gaze in the overhead mirror. “Shannon agreed to it?”
“She did.”
Her eyes were bright with relief as she glanced at Dad, then back to me. “That’s good. I’m glad. I was worried she might take more convincing.”
The weekend passed, and I spent most of my time exercising, messing around on my guitar, and spending time with Mam and Dad.
I was lucky to have such cool parents. Sometimes I felt guilty about the way I’d turned out.
They’d done their best raising me, and still, I’d turned to drugs.
It hadn’t been their fault. A couple months into the release of our first album, our drummer, Cai, had died in a car accident.
He’d been driving while I’d been sitting in the passenger seat.
A drunk driver had T-boned us while we were crossing through a junction.
I’d walked away with a couple broken bones, but Cai had died on impact.
The worst part was he’d been driving me home that night.
If I’d just decided to walk or take the bus, he’d probably still be alive today.
The grief of losing him and the guilt that it was my fault combined with the pressure of fame and the music business had swallowed me up until I’d turned to drugs to cope.
While on tour, I’d lock myself in my room and get high by myself while my bandmates were out partying or sleeping off the show in their own rooms. Because I’d always shot up alone, I was very good at hiding my addiction, pretending I was okay and that everything was normal.
No one in my family, not even Shannon, had known how bad things had gotten until it was too late.
I’d already been using for months before the signs started to show, and by then, I’d been deep into my addiction, not ready to give it up.
On Sunday evening, I paid a visit to my sponsor, Bren McManus.
He was a luthier who specialised in building and repairing guitars in the workshop out the back of his house, and he’d been in recovery from a heroin addiction for the last forty years.
When we met, we’d instantly bonded over a love of music, and I’d already commissioned two instruments from him.
I loved talking with Bren because he was almost seventy years old and had a wealth of wisdom to pass down.
I also found it relaxing to sit and watch him work on whatever piece he was currently focused on.
“What part is that?” I questioned, and he chuckled, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
“Do you know, I’ve never met anyone more interested in all this than you, Jace. My own kids couldn’t care less when I tried teaching them.”
“Why don’t you teach me?” I replied impulsively, and his eyebrows shot up.
“You want to learn?”
“Sure, I mean, I’m not touring for the foreseeable future, and recording our next album is a long way off. I haven’t written anything new in a while. I might as well find something to occupy my time.”
“Okay, then. Be here tomorrow at midday, and we’ll start with the basics.”
I smiled wide. “Sounds good to me.”
A short silence fell before he asked, “So, you saw Shannon?”
“I did.”
“And how did that go?”
“It didn’t make me want to start using again, if that’s what you’re asking,” I replied dryly.
Bren cast me a speculative look. “It’s clear you’re dedicated to your recovery, Jace. No one’s questioning that.”
“So, then, why’d you seem so concerned about me seeing my ex-wife?”
“Because you’re a good lad, and I care about you. I might not be worried about you going out and looking for a fix anymore, but I still don’t want you hurting.”
“It will always hurt with her, no matter how many years have passed. She’s the most important person I lost in all this.
Zara’s still a kid. She doesn’t remember how bad I was when I was high, so that relationship could be salvaged.
Shannon though, she remembers it all, and I’m not sure she’ll ever fully forgive me for what I put her through.
Not sure I deserve forgiveness, to be honest.”
“There are certainly people in this world who don’t deserve forgiveness, Jace, but you’re not one of them. And you never know,” a faint smile shaped his lips. “Shannon might surprise you.”
***
On Monday morning, I woke well before my alarm, hardly able to wait to see Zara.
I was overeager to make up for all the time I’d missed out on.
Showering and dressing in dark jeans and a black hoodie, I quickly styled my hair before heading out.
The drive to Shannon’s barely took five minutes.
I parked outside, scoping out the area, and noticed the curtains twitching in the next door neighbour’s window.
Guess my Range Rover was a little ostentatious.
It certainly stood out amongst all the ordinary Nissans and Toyotas that lined the street.
Climbing out, I hit the locks, then went to knock on the door.
I heard little feet coming down the stairs before the door opened, and Zara appeared, a big smile on her face, “Dad!”
“Hey, kiddo, you ready for school?”
She motioned to her pyjamas. “Not yet. I still have to put on my uniform.”
“Okay, you go do that. Where’s your mam?”
“In the kitchen with Margie,” Zara replied before zipping up the stairs.
I made my way down the hallway, noting the long Persian rug and cute art on the walls.
The place was already so Shannon, and I hadn’t even seen the rooms yet.
I heard voices coming from the kitchen and was about to rap my knuckles on the door to announce myself, but then I picked up on some of the conversation and stilled.
“That long? You’re joking, right?” a woman asked, and I took it to be her friend, Margie. We hadn’t met, but I knew from Mam that she and Shannon had hit it off after meeting at a Women in Tech conference about two years ago.
“It might seem like a long time, but it’s not like I haven’t been busy with other things.”
“Right, I get that, but haven’t you felt a little … frustrated? I’m not sure I could go that long without going crazy from horniness.”
Oh, shit. They were talking about sex. So…
Shannon hadn’t been with anyone in a while?
The caveman in me was over the moon about this, but the other, more sensitive side empathised.
My baby hadn’t been touched in who knew how long.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hadn’t been with anyone either, but that was because, like I said, I was a one-woman man.
Sure, I’d found women attractive, but it was nothing compared to how I felt for Shannon.
No woman could ever compare to her. Even when I was high, I didn’t cheat.
I always made sure I was alone, locked in a hotel room where I couldn’t do anything even more stupid than injecting illegal drugs into my body.
Even now, I’d never gotten to a point of wanting to find someone to replace her, probably because it felt like nobody truly could.
There was also the fact that the programme I’d been on was clear about not starting any new relationships until at least a year into recovery.
And yes, I was two years into it now, but it still didn’t feel right. Maybe it never would.
“Well, I have been considering trying a dating app, but after the stories you’ve told me, I’m a little apprehensive,” Shannon said, and I instantly felt like lashing out.
My girl was way too good for the fuckboys on those shitty apps.
My bandmate, Kami, had gone on a few internet dates last year and had only bad things to say.
“You don’t need to worry so much. I can give you some tips,” Margie replied, and that was the moment I decided to quit being a sneaky eavesdropper and finally rapped my knuckles on the kitchen door.