Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Pat had always told Tom that walking was good for his mental health.
He had to agree that it felt better than being cooped up indoors thinking about things that were beyond his control.
He put his moccasins on and made his way out of the front door.
He knew that he should be making his way to Clara’s by now, but somehow his feet refused to point that way.
He could have taken a right turn. However, he chose to go in the opposite direction of Clara’s, knowing the consequences.
Besides, he reasoned that he hadn’t even dressed for her strawberry tea.
He had a scruffy T-shirt and shorts on and wasn’t in the mood to press a nice shirt for the occasion. It was easier not to go.
As he walked alone thinking of the mess he had made of his life and of his devastating estrangement from Josh, Tom tried to blot out the picture of Clara getting excited as she served up her delightful tea.
She was an excellent host and would no doubt give everyone a day to remember.
He convinced himself that there was no need for him to feel guilty about not being there.
She would be surrounded by her friends; it didn’t matter if he was there or not.
She may have wanted to tell everyone about their relationship, but she didn’t realise that this was for the best. It was practically more in her interest than his.
He knew how much her reputation mattered and he didn’t want to make a fool of the lovely lady.
No, the more he thought about it, the more he knew he had to stay away.
He was helping her; he wouldn’t want things to end as catastrophically as they did with Josh.
From the moment Tom had woken up, he knew he wasn’t in the right frame of mind and he wasn’t going to take someone else down with him.
Tom wasn’t going to do that to another loved one.
Slowly, he walked along the alcohol aisle, taking in the offers for the cans of lager and bottles of vodka.
He cursed the fact that stores made liquor so appealing, so normalised and harmless-looking.
A tall fridge stood at the end of the aisle with cans of lager that had already been chilled to the perfect temperature.
The weather was glorious and practically demanded such a drink.
As the temptation heightened, he knew he should call Pat for support but realised he’d left his mobile at home.
The choice he was about to make would change everything.
There would be no coming back from this.
Although, a part of him wondered if he might be able to stop at one drink.
What if he had changed? Perhaps there had been no need for any AA meetings.
Then again, who cared if he drank ten pints? He had nobody to answer to.
‘Too bad,’ he said to himself as he opened the fridge door and pulled out a four-pack of lagers.
When he held the cans to his chest as though he had been reunited with a long-lost friend, the beads of condensation dampened his T-shirt.
He didn’t care about the wet patch as he picked up a bottle of red wine on the way out.
He had decided that if he was going to break his sobriety, he may as well do it in style.
Besides, it would be there for another day if he didn’t want it.
It was always good to get stocked up in the house and it didn’t mean he was going to drink it all in one session.
He stared at his selection on the counter as the cashier rung them up on the till.
Tom admired the picture of the enticing seahorse on the wine bottle as if it was one of the works of art from the museum.
He turned his attention to the pull tab on the cans of lager and could practically hear that hiss that came with their opening. How he had missed that noise.
Tom was imagining placing his lips on the can while the cashier tried to get his attention.
Oh, how it would feel orgasmic when he had that familiar taste on his tongue.
He had missed the sweet, sweet nectar and the way the bubbles danced, giving him an instant kick. How had he managed so long without it?
‘Sir, sir, that’s ￡14.99,’ repeated the cashier. A customer behind Tom resorted to tapping his arm to get his attention.
‘Are you okay, sir?’
Tom came back down to earth, slipping his card out from his wallet.
‘Sorry, I was miles away. Oh yes, I’m very fine indeed.’
Tom bid goodbye to the cashier and whistled as he walked back home, persuading himself that he deserved every single drop of the alcohol that was inside his flimsy carrier bag.
After all, he had a valid excuse for drowning his sorrows today; surely nobody would judge him for that.
Birthdays were to be celebrated and that was what he planned to do, with or without Josh.