Chapter 14
I had been sober for nine days but, my God, it was difficult – not because I was an alcoholic but because I didn’t get a minute to myself.
I yawned my way through group sessions, made as little effort at yoga as possible and laughed in the face of other people’s crises.
In the evenings, we were allowed to watch some specially curated DVDs of films that featured characters crashing and burning.
The Morning After, Affliction and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf were the favourites among the group.
They were supposed to be inspirational, I guess, but I didn’t need to see them any more than once. And certainly not two days in a row.
Amber, the psychiatrist, was drilling down into my relationship with Mom and Dad after the incident. She had a problem with me referring to the rape as the ‘incident’. ‘Why not name it for what it was?’ I couldn’t answer that.
‘It’s hard to get rape convictions, it’s nearly always the survivor’s word’ – Amber never referred to me as a victim – ‘against the perpetrator’s.
You are brave to have brought that case, you know?
Most women don’t. And let’s not forget, you were a child.
’ She missed out on the fact that I didn’t get a choice about bringing the case or not.
Dad called the cops that day and the rest just happened.
I don’t remember anyone asking me if I wanted to be dragged through the courts.
It sickened me to have to talk about this every day, but she insisted ‘the thing you don’t want to talk about is the thing you must talk about’.
She asked me about Dad’s church, why I felt ‘impure’ and unable to go back.
Did I still feel impure? When we went on to talk about my current sex life, she became excited all over again.
‘You don’t feel any emotional connection to these men?
’ I shook my head. ‘And how many men have there been?’
I frowned. ‘Roughly? About twenty,’ I said, though I knew it was more.
‘And you have never sought a relationship with any of these?’
I looked at her. ‘Are you judging me for behaving like most men? All they want is sex.’
‘Let’s say there were twenty men’ – she knew I was lying – ‘how many of them expressed an interest in seeing you again?’ She didn’t get it.
‘I chose my sex partners. I chose not to have relationships. What is wrong with that? As a feminist, aren’t I within my rights to have control over my sex life?’
Amber seized on the word ‘control’ as if we’d made some incredible breakthrough.
‘Control!’ she shouted. ‘There it is. That is what you are seeking in life. Well, you know what you can’t have with drugs or alcohol?
Control! And I’m betting that few of these encounters happened when you were sober.
Where exactly is the control you’re so proud of? ’
How low could she go? But she was right about one thing. I had never had sober sex.
I was sick of her by this stage. Determined to open every old wound and expose it to the elements. ‘Fuck you.’
She ignored that. ‘Finally, we’re getting somewhere. See you tomorrow, Ruby.’ She was smug, pleased with herself. I would have slapped her if I were the violent type.
Speaking of sex partners, Jack was proving elusive.
I had figured out that his room was exactly above mine on the second floor.
I flaunted myself in front of him as much as I could, but he wasn’t taking the bait.
Mom had been right all those years ago: although I would never be as beautiful as Erin, my retainer was long gone and my face had filled out, and I finally had the curves I’d yearned for.
My feet had stopped growing, allowing the rest of me to catch up.
I was still prone to acne, but my nose had been reset in hospital and you would never know it had been broken.
Jack had called me a liar many times, but I was sure there was a twinkle in his eye.
On one of the evenings between movie time and playing charades (I’m not even joking), I found him in the break room making tea.
It was the first time I’d seen him on his own since he’d come to wake me that first morning.
I brushed myself up against him as I reached into a cupboard to get a mug.
He flinched away from me. ‘I know what you’re doing, you know. ’
‘I’m sorry, it’s a tight space.’
‘Even if it is, you could wait five seconds for me to close the fridge door. I’m not going to fuck you.’
I wasn’t expecting this, but I went straight to indignation. ‘Excuse me? Jack, if you were the last man on earth, I wouldn’t touch you.’
‘Sure,’ he said, ‘read the rule book again.’
The rule book. I had read it cover to cover.
It was only slightly more interesting than the hundreds of self-help books.
There was to be no inappropriate touching between clients.
There were even rules about what we should wear.
No shorts for men or women. No low-cut tops for women.
Sexist. (I assume this was for the sake of the sex addicts, although nobody had admitted to sex addiction in our group.) No new relationships in the first two years of sobriety. I wasn’t looking for a relationship.
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Grandad, who’d want to fuck an old man like you?’
He came over and stood right in front of me, face to face.
I had pushed the right button. He leaned down to kiss me, and I closed my eyes just in time to feel him back away, laughing.
‘The last man on earth, yeah? Get your head straight, Ruby.’ I was furious.
Who did he think he was? I was leaving tomorrow anyway, right after I told Amber what I thought of her.
The next morning, I didn’t talk to anyone.
I had never spoken in group, and this was the day that Martin decided to pick on me.
‘Ruby, I think it’s high time you spoke up.
Do you have anything to say about Carmen’s dilemma?
’ I had been thinking about lowering a glass of white wine this evening, wondering where I’d get my hands on some money, sure that Dad would have suspended my account.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t listening,’ I said.
Lorraine and Carmen made exasperated noises.
‘Why do we have to put up with Ruby?’ Jack said.
‘She’s not doing any of the recovery work.
We’re all doing our best here and she’s sneering at us every day.
She even tried to come on to me in the kitchen last night.
I’m out of here at the end of the week and I’ve learned enough to know that she won’t shake my resolve, but it isn’t fair, especially to the newer people coming in.
’ Others mumbled their agreement. My cheeks were burning.
I wasn’t used to feeling embarrassment, even though I’d probably done lots of embarrassing things when I was drunk.
I recalled making a pass at Lindsay’s boyfriend one night.
That was the night before she evicted me. He must have told her.
‘Ruby,’ Martin said, ‘do you have anything to say?’
‘No.’ I folded my arms across my chest.
‘She’s sulking now, like a toddler,’ said Jack. I could see he hated me. I wasn’t used to this feeling. God, I needed a drink.
‘Right,’ said Martin, ‘I’ll have to bring it up with the other counsellors today.
Ruby, maybe you should reflect on your attitude, what you bring to this group, whether your behaviour is hindering the recovery of the other people in the room.
’ He looked serious for a moment but then clapped his hands together and said, ‘I think we’ll call it a day, folks. Lunch a little early, okay?’
Everyone dispersed. I went back to my room, but Sheila came after me.
‘Ruby, it’s lunchtime.’
Her tone had lost its soft maternal manner – there was an edge to it I hadn’t heard before.
She glared at me while I put my shoes on and made my way down to the lunch room.
Everyone ignored me, except for Jack – who mouthed the word ‘liar’ at me – and a new woman who had arrived only two days ago. She offered me some salad.
‘Is it this hard to fit in?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘especially when you’re not an addict.’
Lorraine overheard me. ‘If you’re not an addict, why don’t you leave? You’ve done nothing for others who are trying to recover. I hope they kick you out.’
Hadn’t I already decided I was going to leave today anyway? But I wanted it to be on my terms. I had been sober for ten days. I’d proven I wasn’t an alcoholic.
I was about to load my plate into the dishwasher when Sheila came into the kitchen and asked me to come to the office. I followed her and took a seat in front of her desk.
‘Ruby, we’ve had a staff meeting, and I’m afraid we have decided to ask you to leave.
Dr Hardwicke believes you were making progress, but all the other counsellors and supervisors feel that you are a negative influence on the house.
Please go to your room and pack your bags.
We’ll call a taxi to take you anywhere you want to go.
We don’t believe you have accepted that you are an addict. ’
‘I haven’t had a drink in ten days.’ Why was I arguing with her?
‘That’s because you are not allowed to, in here. Not because of your acceptance. If or when you do accept your addiction, we might consider taking you back, but clearly now is not the right time for you.’
I was going to defend myself, but she spoke in such a definitive way, there was no point. The decision had been made for me.
That’s when I should have stopped drinking.