Chapter 27
Jesse
I’m still buzzing from my conversation with Adam earlier.
We were on the phone for almost two hours catching up.
I think in the back of my mind, I’ve been worried that there were some things I’d broken beyond repair no matter how hard I worked at recovery.
We talk a lot in meetings about how nobody owes you forgiveness, so there are going to be times when you have to accept people not wanting to let you back into their lives and move on.
But my relationship with my family has always been something I’ve clung to with child-like hope. I know from group therapy that a lot of addicts find themselves in such a bad way because they have no home to go back to. That’s basically been my situation for the last several years.
So to see how happy Adam was hearing about both my sobriety journey and mine and Rico’s relationship was a relief I didn’t know I desperately needed.
What was even more insane, though, was when Adam’s wife, Alice, leaned in to say hello and offer me congratulations on everything.
She’s always been the one telling Adam to stop wasting time on me, and in her defense, she was right.
If I can mend fences with her that would go a long way to having more of a relationship with my brother again, not to mention my niece and nephew.
Adam even talked about scheduling a group video call with our parents, which makes me nervous and excited at the same time.
We agreed to take things slowly, but I’m aching to prove to them that I’m not the complete failure they’ve assumed me to be for so long.
All I’ve ever wanted was their approval. Their love.
Having Rico’s love and approval gives me confidence that they’ll at least be open to the idea. They always liked Rico, so his support will hopefully help them start to change their minds.
As I cook dinner that evening, I let my imagination get carried away as I picture a big family reunion for the Fourth of July or something. I envision myself clean and sober, earning good money at a job I love, with my incredible husband by my side.
But I don’t have to imagine it, because it’s already reality. I just want them to see it and celebrate it, I suppose. I’m still that little kid in some ways, always looking for applause to reassure me that I’m doing all right.
How crazy is it that only six months ago, it was a totally different story? My life is unrecognizable. I kind of want to reach back in time and shake my old self, to tell him to just hold on because help is around the corner.
And that help is not only gorgeous and hot as hell in the bedroom, but has the biggest, best heart I’ll ever know.
“Aren’t we both so lucky we found a home here?” I say to Klaus, who’s being a very good boy laying down at the threshold of the kitchen. He knows that even though he can smell food, it’s not safe for him to come any closer when we’re cooking.
He wags his tail at me and my heart aches.
What are we going to do when the time comes to give him up to a forever home?
I know that a two-bedroom apartment isn’t fair on a fully grown German Shepherd, and he should go somewhere he can have a back yard.
But the idea of letting him go chokes me up. I love him so much.
That little voice in the back of my head whispers yet again that one day, Rico and I could move into a house with plenty of space for the three of us.
That seems like something way, way in the future, though.
It’s going to take me a long time to straighten out my credit rating enough to be approved for a mortgage.
I suppose we could rent, but even that would take time to organize. Klaus needs a forever home now.
But not tonight.
I shake myself and turn my attention back to the chicken I’ve got going in the pan.
Honestly, I do find it difficult to simply be happy in the moment.
I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop or for the next disaster to strike.
I know it’s because I still don’t really think I deserve good things, but I’m working on it.
For a second, I close my eyes and breathe in deeply.
“I am grateful for today,” I say out loud.
The doorbell pulls me back to reality. I frown at Klaus, whose ears perk up. I’m not sure who that could be. The last unexpected visitor turned out not to be so bad in the end, though. So I switch off the stove and wipe my hands before heading to the front door.
I should have checked the peephole.
“Jesse!” Emerson cries as soon as he sees me.
My blood runs cold. “Emerson…what are you doing here?” I demand.
He shakes his head and shrugs. “I wanted to apologize about the other night. I think our wires got crossed, but I shouldn’t have surprised you like I did. You were working and I should have respected that. Can you forgive me?”
“Uh, yeah,” I tell him distractedly. Klaus is by my knee, growling softly.
He never growls at anyone.
“You’re forgiven. But Emerson, I’m not kidding. How did you find my address?”
He grins like it’s all a big joke. “Oh, I have my ways. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
My blood runs cold and it’s pathetic, but I wish Rico wasn’t at work. I should be able to handle one guy on my own. However, the fact that he tracked down my home is deeply unsettling.
“Um, I’ve got dinner on,” I say apologetically, still hoping he’ll take a damn hint. “It’s not really a good time.”
“Well, I’d love to keep you company,” Emerson says, completely not taking the damn hint. “And I didn’t come empty handed, of course!”
Then he reaches into his frayed record bag and pulls out…
A fucking bottle of whiskey.
My stomach drops.
“Emerson, I don’t want that,” I stammer as I stumble backward a step. Klaus’s growling isn’t so quiet anymore. “I don’t think you do, either. Why don’t you put it away?”
He scoffs. “It doesn’t count if you don’t get drunk, Jesse. Come on, I’m trying so hard to be nice here. Why do you have to keep pushing me away?”
It turns out that my politeness does in fact have a limit. Fury blasts through me and I step forward again, gripping onto the door and the frame, blocking Emerson from even thinking about coming into mine and Rico’s home.
“Listen to me very clearly, Emerson,” I snap.
“We’re not friends. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but apparently being subtle just isn’t working.
You crossed a line by coming to my work and now my home.
But showing up with alcohol is the last fucking straw.
I am an addict, but I am a hundred and sixty-seven days sober.
I’ve worked my ass off to get this far, and I’m disgusted you’d try and sabotage that for me.
So I need you to leave and never come back, and if I ever see you in a meeting again, I expect you to be honest about what happened here tonight. Because if you’re not, I will be.”
His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are wet. “You’d snitch on me?” he snarls.
That’s all he took from my whole speech?
“I’m protecting myself,” I retort.
He scoffs, trying to come across annoyed but I can see how hurt he is. I hate that, but I’m not his keeper. He’s brought this on himself.
“Typical celebrity, only thinking about yourself,” he spits.
“I didn’t snitch on you! I didn’t tell anyone who you really are, but I worked it out the moment I saw you!
Jesse, I’m such a huge fan of Leroy Puck!
I bet you don’t have many of those left.
I still watch it all the time! You’ve helped me through some of the worst days of my life.
Why won’t you let me help you now? We’d be such great friends! ”
“That wasn’t me who helped you,” I say coldly.
“That was a room full of TV writers, most of whom were strung out on coke. We’re not friends, Emerson.
I’m sorry, but friends lift each other up, not drag each other down like crabs in a bucket.
If you want a drinking buddy, you need to look elsewhere. ”
Desperation flashes across his face and he hastily shoves the bottle back in his bag.
“Then we won’t drink! I’m sorry. I just wanted to impress you.
That’s why I studied baseball so hard! And why I starting learning Mandarin and listened to all those detective podcasts!
I messed up but I just wanted to show you how much we had in common.
I know we can be friends! Can’t you forgive me? ”
Guilt creeps around the edges of my thoughts, but I push it away. “Nobody owes us forgiveness, remember?” I tell him.
“But I’ve done so much for you,” he protests. “How can you be so ungrateful?”
Angry bile rises in my throat. “You didn’t do those things for me, Emerson. You did them for Leroy Puck, and he doesn’t exist. I’m sorry. I’ve been very clear. I want you to leave me alone. Goodnight.”
“No, Jesse!” he cries, shooting out his hand as if to grab my arm.
Klaus launches forward, barking and herding Emerson back.
“Fucking hell!” he shrieks. “Call him off!”
“Guter Junge, Klaus,” I say, snapping my fingers once.
Immediately, he comes back to sit by my leg inside the flat.
“Goodnight, Emerson,” I say again. “May I suggest you go and find a meeting. You clearly need help.” My eyes flash down to his bag then back up to his face.
“And tip that bottle down the drain, for everyone’s sake. ”
With that, I close the door.
And lock it.
“What the fuck?” I whisper to Klaus, who rubs his head against my legs. It’s like he’s asking if I’m okay in his own doggy way. “I know, boy,” I say, stroking the back of his head. “That was a lot. Danke for your help. You’re such a good boy.”
I’m proud of myself, too, though. I stood up to Emerson and set clear boundaries. It’s not selfish or mean to do that. But my hands are shaking slightly and I feel restless, like I want to go for a run or hit the weights at the gym.
There’s no way I’m leaving the apartment tonight, so I just walk around the living room shaking out my hands for a while.
Then I remember the chicken in the pan that’s unfortunately become slightly congealed where I neglected it.
Much to Klaus’s dismay, I tip it into the trash and try and muster up the energy to cook something else.
My appetite has vanished, but it’s important on the medication I’m taking to eat regular meals.
In the end, I compromise and fix myself a bowl of cereal instead, managing to eat about two thirds of it.
I feel sorry for Emerson, but like Trixie said the other night, he’s not my responsibility. I really hope he did find a meeting to go to. However, I can’t help him if he’s going to stalk me and threaten to derail my sobriety like that.
Even though it’s not that late, I brush my teeth and head to bed.
The club is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so it’s like our weekend and I have tomorrow night off as well.
Rico will be home in the morning, so depending on how his shift went, we can maybe go for a run together.
I think about maybe baking muffins and drift off to sleep considering different recipes.
A loud, urgent bark jerks me awake again. My heart is immediately pounding as I glance at my phone and realize only about an hour and half has passed.
Klaus barks again.
“What is it, boy?” I mumble groggily. “Do you need to use the bathroom? Badezimmer?”
To be fair, normally I’d walk him downstairs before bed to relieve himself one last time on the grass, but I didn’t do that earlier because of Emerson.
So I stumble out of bed and pull on some jeans as well as my sneakers and a hoodie, figuring it must be safe to venture out now. Emerson has to be long gone.
But Klaus is barking non-stop, dancing around me as I get his leash, yawning and rubbing my eyes. I must have been in the middle of a REM cycle as it’s taking a while for my brain to catch up.
“Shh, Klaus,” I tell him, worrying that the neighbors are going to hate me.
He never usually makes such a ruckus and I feel guilty.
He must be desperate to behave so badly.
“Shh. Ruhig. It’s okay. We’re going now.
I’m really sorry. But Daddy Jesse’s crazy stalker meant it wasn’t safe earlier. But now…”
I trail off with a frown. What’s that smell?
No sooner do I think it than an alarm starts blaring.
I flinch and cover my ears. That’s way too loud for it to be our oven or anything. That’s got to be…
Icy coldness washes through me. I know what that sound is. I know what that smell is.
I dash to the front door with Klaus whimpering by my side. The noise has got to be hell on his ears. Mine are protesting and I don’t have his hearing range. I press my hand to the door, but it doesn’t feel too hot. So I wrench it open.
And discover a fire raging in the hallway.