Chapter 65
COOPER
I’ve got to find Debbie.
I have run out of ideas to find her, and I’ve been blowing up her phone with text messages and voicemails for hours now. So I’m driving to the final place I can think of to look.
Except I don’t actually know where I’m going. There was one address on the list of places Debbie had been in the last week that wasn’t familiar to me. It’s an address in Rockland. I don’t know anybody who lives in Rockland. I have no idea what this place is, but it’s the only clue I have left.
So I’m going.
The sun has dropped precipitously in the sky, and the streets are growing dark. I’m following the GPS as the roads curve and turn. And as I follow the directions from my phone, I think about what I’m going to say to Debbie if and when I find her.
First, I’m going to tell her how much I love her. Because I do. Even after all this, I still love her. She’s the only woman I have ever loved or will ever love.
So there’s that. And hopefully that’s worth something.
My phone starts ringing, and it’s the worst possible timing. It’s her again. I am in no state to deal with this right now, but I need to take the call, at least to let her know I’m not showing up tonight.
The voice on the other end of the line pipes out of the speakers in my car: “Cooper?”
“Cherese,” I say. “Hey.”
“Everything okay?” Her voice is scratchy from forty years of smoking. “You sound…off.”
No kidding. “I’m fine.”
“Have you been drinking?”
I flinch, hating that she had to ask. But it’s her job—she’s my sponsor. “No.”
“Cooper…”
“I swear. I haven’t been drinking.”
Does she believe me? I hope so. I’ve been lying to Debbie for the duration of our marriage, but I try not to lie to Cherese. It’s the only way I can hope to get better.
“Are you going to the meeting tonight?” she asks me.
“I can’t. I’m busy.” That’s an understatement. “I… I’ll go tomorrow.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” As long as I’m not in jail tomorrow. “I have to go now.”
Cherese sounds like she’s not sure if she believes me, but there’s no way I’m going to tell her about the day I’ve had today.
Not now—not ever. She accepts that I’m not about to get toasted at this moment and allows me to end the call, although she’ll surely call back later.
She’s not the first sponsor I’ve had, but she might be the most attentive.
She has been calling me constantly since I fell off the wagon to make sure I’m not tempted to start drinking again.
And I’m glad she hasn’t leaned on me too hard to tell Debbie the truth.
So yeah, I’m a shit. How could I fail to tell the woman I love that I’ve been an alcoholic since before we even met? How could I conceal such an important part of who I am?
I was ashamed. And I swear, I thought I had it conquered, and Debbie never needed to know. But that was no excuse.
I found out about my problem when I was in college.
All my friends used to drink, but I realized it was different for me.
I never knew when to stop. I started drinking every night, even before I was twenty-one and could get it legally.
I had a fake ID, and when it was confiscated, I got another fake ID.
I got fired from my job flipping burgers when I showed up to work drunk, but I still didn’t take it seriously.
It wasn’t until I ended up with a DUI that I realized I had a problem.
I got it under control though. I started going to AA meetings, and I gave up alcohol entirely. I was proud of myself, and when I met Debbie, I truly thought I had left it all behind me. I didn’t think I needed to lay that piece of baggage on her when it was firmly in the past.
Except it wasn’t actually in the past. During our marriage, I have fallen off the wagon three times.
And each time, I have come very close to telling her, but I didn’t.
I would call my sponsor to confess my sins, turn off location sharing, sneak off to the AA meetings, and get myself back under control all on my own.
I know. It’s ridiculous. I obviously should have told her. But before we were married, I was scared that if I told her, she would lose respect for me and dump me. And then after we were married, I realized it was too late, and she would be furious with me for lying to her.
A few weeks ago, I fell off the wagon again.
It was the stress of knowing that I was going to be asking for the partnership and knowing in my heart that he would say no.
I didn’t realize he’d let me quit, but when that happened, the financial stress only made things worse.
I wanted to talk to Debbie and confess everything, but she’d become so strangely distant over the last six months.
When I polished off the white wine above our refrigerator and replaced it with tap water until I could grab another bottle, I knew I had to start going to meetings again.
I couldn’t even resist the random six-pack of beer I found in the kitchen.
I should’ve just told her from the start. I should have been honest, and maybe if I had, she would’ve been honest with me.
Now, as I drive to Rockland, my foot pressing as hard on the gas as I dare, I make a promise to myself that the moment I see her, I’m going to tell her everything. No more secrets. Whatever she’s done, we’re going to figure it out.
Christ, I hope it’s not too late.