Chapter 14
Cassidy
Sobriety isn’t a one size fits all approach
It’s been weeks since my last conversation with Avery and I’ve made zero progress in devising a game plan.
My brain feels like scrambled eggs, trying to figure out how to convince her that I both need and want her.
I pace my bedroom floor, gripping my hair in frustration.
Coming up with a game plan shouldn’t be so damn difficult.
How am I supposed to show her how I feel?
I stop mid-pace when a flash of white catches my eye.
I stand frozen, thinking back to Avery’s letter.
This piece of paper, however, is significantly smaller.
Now that my heart isn’t threatening to leap outside my chest, I walk toward it and see a familiar name etched in black ink: Asher.
I grab my phone and type out a quick text.
Me: Asher, it's Cas. You told me to reach out whenever I needed help. I wanted to know if that offer still stands.
Asher: Hey, that’s cool. Would you be willing to come hang out at the bar?
Me: Yeah, that’s fine. When?
Asher: Are you free now? It's dead here, so we should be good.
Me: Sounds good. I’ll be there soon, thanks.
I grab my keys and head downstairs. My grandparents are sitting next to each other on the couch. My grandpa is fiddling with his camera while my grandma is reading one of her many romance novels. They both look up with matching happy expressions when I enter the room.
“Hey. I wanted to let y’all know I’m heading out to Aces. I need to get someone’s opinion on what to do with the whole Avery situation. Not that she’s a situation. I mean, uh—" I stammer.
Gram places her bookmark in her novel before placing it on the table and patting the empty spot next to her.
“I understand what you mean, Cas. I’m glad you’re being proactive about everything.
A year or so ago, you would have sulked and gone on some self-destructive bender.
I’m so proud of you, both of us are.” Gram squeezes my hand and my grandpa just grunts his agreement, refusing to look up from what he’s doing.
“I, uh, thanks. That means a lot. I just wanted you both to know that I’m heading there for a reason and not to, ya know, drink and stuff.
I’ve not only destroyed Avery’s trust, I obliterated yours.
I’m working on changing all of that. I don’t think I ever said I was sorry for all that I put you through.
I know how y’all feel about my father…” I pause and take a breath, those words coming out through clenched teeth.
“I never wanted to be like him, yet I ended up being exactly like the bastard. You never deserved that. You never deserved a grandson like me who destroys everything he touches. But I’m going to promise you that I will continually work on myself.
You both took me in when you didn’t need to.
You saved my life, and I repaid that by falling victim to my own demons.
Not anymore. I’m going to really make sure things are different this time around.
” The last few words waver with guilt and disappointment at all the mistakes I’ve made.
I expect my gram to speak, but it’s my grandpa that decides to chime in.
“We never, not once, regretted the decision to take you under our care. We love you very much, even the parts of you that you deem unlovable. While our trust in you is fragile, it isn’t completely severed.
You have so much in you. I saw it when you were eight and I see it now.
I remember that spark you had when you came to work for me at my photography studio.
You were finding yourself again, and it was a sight to see.
I have no doubt you’ll find yourself again.
” My grandpa isn’t known for being the most emotional talker, but when he does, his words hit the intended target every time.
“Have you thought about going back to NA and AA? I know back then, it was helpful for you. Maybe it’s worth giving it another try?” Gram asks.
I think back to when I got sober the first time.
I didn’t have a crew of doctors and nurses helping me out.
I was doing it all on my own. And while I enjoyed the meetings, I didn’t always feel connected to the content they discussed.
Maybe it was because deep down I wasn’t truly ready to get sober.
Or maybe it was because of the constant judgment I felt from my peers and sponsors.
I’m not sure, maybe with enough introspection I can figure it out, but I’m not sure I’m ready to dig that deep just yet.
“I don’t think that avenue is for me. Getting, and remaining, sober isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach.
Some benefit greatly from attending those meetings.
I don’t think they were for me. Rehab helped me with a generalized understanding of substance abuse issues.
My therapist there gave me a solid arsenal of coping skills that I feel are working for me right now.
If I need extra help, I promise I will take it.
I don’t want to end up in the hospital again.
Anyway, I just wanted you both to hear it from me on why I’m headed to the bar and not from a neighborhood local who still has their opinions about me. ”
“Thank you for letting us know. We love you, and stay safe. We are a text or call away. Have fun,” my gram says.
Worry lingers in the air like a virus with the only cure being complete and full transparency.
I’m going to be proving myself for quite some time.
I peck both of my grandparents on the cheek before heading out the door.
It's about ten minutes from my house to Aces, but I make it in eight.
Wow, he wasn't kidding when he said it was dead as I looked around at an empty parking lot. The second I walk into Aces, I spot him immediately. He’s pouring a drink for someone, but glances my way, giving me a nod to take a seat.
After a few minutes, he walks to me with a large glass of water.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“So, the last time I was here, I hooked up with a girl I met outside. I took her back to my place, and well, things happened. The next morning, things went to complete shit. Avery lives next door to me, and Giselle and I—” I say, but the look in his eyes stops me.
“You hooked up with Giselle? Damn, dude, do you have a death wish?” He shakes his head.
“I know that now. Anyway, Giselle practically jumped me in the front yard when I was walking her out and—"
“Avery saw, didn't she?”
With a quick nod, I continue. “She sure did. Giselle went crazy on her and said some awful things. I told her to leave before chasing after Avery to apologize for everything. Avery ended up saying some things that I can't get out of my head. I know you said your brother had some addiction issues, so I’m wondering if you could help me.”
“Sure. Lay it on me,” Asher says. That’s when I tell him about our conversation and how Avery is tired of me making promises, only to fall back into my old ways.
Asher nods his head and lets me speak. It's refreshing to have someone just sit and listen without making assumptions or pretending they know what's best. After I finish talking, he silently stands there with a contemplative look.
I grow more antsy, the silence ticking like a clock in my brain.
I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it.
“You know that’s some toxic shit, right?
You hooked up with Giselle right after you knew Max and Avery weren’t a thing.
If I were her, I wouldn’t give you the time of day.
You’re lucky you were able to talk to her.
Like, deal with your shit, man. And how you did it wasn’t the smartest way to go about it,” he says.
I lay my head in my hands, aggressively rubbing my face. “Yeah, I’m aware. Look, she wrote me this letter that tore me apart. I’ll admit I fell back into my old addict habit of being selfish. I’m not saying it's right. I don’t want to do that anymore; I already messed up. I need to be better.”
“So with my brother, he would go in these patterns of making all these promises to be a better person and stop drinking and get sober.
He would be good for a while before slipping back into old habits.
It became very frustrating watching him repeat the cycle, and eventually, I learned to stop believing him when he said he would change.
Honestly, I didn't trust him until his two-year sober anniversary. Sounds to me like Avery needs to learn to trust you again, and you need to show her,” he says.
I’m ready to argue, but Asher holds his hand up to stop me.
“Don’t come at me with the ‘but I have proven to her she can trust me’ bullshit because I assure you, you haven’t.
I don't know everything about your relationship with Avery, but I know what it's like to watch someone in your life struggle with addiction. She just wants to know this time is different. Actions speak louder than words. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that what you do and say are the same?” he asks.
I pause, giving myself a minute to think about it.
Then it all comes flooding back to me. All the times I would go to her saying that I was finally getting sober and wanted to be her friend again, only to relapse days later.
I missed all the crucial events because getting high was more important.
All the time, I made drugs a priority over anyone else in my life. Including Avery.
“Shit,” I say.
“That's what I thought. Before you spiral into self-doubt, that's how the addicted brain works. You know that more than anyone. Avery needs to know she's a priority in your life, and I think she’s all talked out. The question to ask yourself is, what will you do about it? More importantly, is she important enough to you to do something about it?” he asks.
“Of course she is. She’s the most important person to me in my life,” I reply.
“Then you have to work your ass off, man.” He shrugs.
“How do I even begin to do that? I keep trying to come up with ideas, but my mind draws a blank.”
He pauses, and his face looks like he’s solving a complex equation.
He's quiet for a few minutes before speaking. “Emphasize to Avery how important she is to you. Find a way to remind her of the good times while showing her the friendship you can have. She needs to feel secure with you instead of questioning everything. Find a way to give her that sense of security back, and you’ll have your friendship back, as well,” he says.
“How do I remind her of the friendship we used to have? That sounds impossible,” I express.
He shrugs before speaking. “Can’t tell you that, man. That’s something you have to do on your own.”
“Thanks.” I sip my water and focus on the coldness sliding down my throat.
“Ya know, you’re working on repairing your relationship with Avery, which is great, but what about you?” Asher asks.
My face wrinkles like a bulldog with how hard I’m frowning. “Me? What about me?”
“I mean exactly that. People who struggle with substance abuse can replace one addiction with another. I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to become addicted to her. You need to have your own identity, man. So, who is Cas?”
“I…” I pause. Who am I? I’ve only known the broken and the bruised. But what more is there to me? “I mean, well, I’m an addict. I guess that’s who I am.”
Asher shakes his head before putting down a glass he was cleaning.
He leans his elbows on the bar and looks at me.
“Nah. That isn’t who you are. It’s a part of you, but not all of you.
What do you like to do? What makes you feel good?
Me, I love reading. Nothing greater than getting out of our shitty world for a while. Stuff like that is what I’m asking.”
I’ve been an addict for so long that it takes me a moment to think about my passions.
I close my eyes and try to free myself of every thought that comes into my head.
I see a ten-year-old Cas holding a camera and sitting and listening to his grandfather teach him all the technical jargon.
I think about how having that camera in my hands made me smile.
My eyes flutter open and I see Asher patiently waiting.
“Photography. I love to take photos. When I got sober years ago, I worked in my grandfather's studio. I would assist him with lighting, prop staging, and setting up and removing his equipment. I loved doing it. Shit, I can’t remember the last time I thought about picking up my camera.”
“Maybe it’s time to do that again. Finding the balance between your passions and reconnecting with Avery, while challenging, might be necessary.”
“Damn, how do you know all this shit?” I chuckle.
Asher shrugs. “I’ve gone to therapy with my brother a time or two.”
We spend the rest of our evening just talking and hanging out in between customers.
When I’m not talking to Asher, I’m avoiding all the eyes drilling holes into my back.
I won’t give them the time of day, they don’t deserve it.
I can’t recall when I ever had an actual, genuine male friendship.
There’s something about Asher that puts me at ease.
Despite my past and our history together, he doesn’t seem to see me as broken or defective.
Maybe it’s time I start seeing myself differently.