Chapter 41
41
MALCOM
“D amn, you look like shit man. Oww! Why’d you hit me?”
“You can’t say that to him, you moron, we’re literally picking him up from rehab ,” Hank chastises Conrad after thumping him on the back of the head.
“Children, please ,” Kolbi groans, rolling his eyes at the two of them as I approach his SUV.
The three of them were outside waiting for me, just like they promised they would be when they dropped me off, and acting like nothing had changed. Nothing ever changes with my friends, even when everything does. It could be Hank enlisting or Kolbi becoming a billionaire or me going to rehab—twice—and my friends are still the same old idiots I grew up with.
I smile warily at the three of them and shake my head, dropping the duffle bag I’d taken in with me at our feet. My arms extend around them and pull them in for a hug. Hank and Kolbi’s hands wrap around my back and I can feel Conrad pulling away from us after only a few seconds.
“Okay, okay, we’re good. No more hugging. You’re all in touch with your feelings now and I love that for you but I don’t need to join, thank you.” He grimaces.
“I think out of all of us, you need to get in touch with your feelings the most, brother,” Kolbi jokes before bending over and grabbing my bag. He tosses it in the back of his car and slams the tailgate shut. “It’s nice to see you, dude, you look good.”
I shake the hand he’s offered me and nod. “Thanks, I feel good.”
“Are you sure about that? Because we haven’t left yet, you can go back inside and stay until you really mean it.” It’s Hank who speaks and he looks at me indignantly.
“I promise, I mean it,” I say, looking at him over the bridge of my nose.
Going through the program helped me work through the shit in my head and reset in a way I needed. It took some time, and a lot of group therapy, to realize that the root of my relapse was settled in never fully processing the loss of Marshall. He was my anchor the first time I got clean and once I lost him, I lost my anchor. I needed to learn how to anchor myself in my own life, not in the life of someone else, if I truly want to stay clean. And that’s my goal now that I’m out. To use what I learned while away and implement it now that I’m heading home.
“Thank god because these two were getting on my nerves.” Conrad sighs with an eyeroll. Hank and Kolbi look like they’re both ready to deck him and I laugh at my friends before opening the door to the car.
“Come on, dicklickers, I wanna go home.”
* * *
The three of them take me back to my apartment and only leave me alone after multiple hours begging and pleading. It’s not that I don’t want to see them, but I’m vying for five minutes to myself without anyone else looking at me or checking in on me. Over the last thirty days, there hasn’t been a single uninterrupted hour where a nurse or patient or shrink wasn’t sharing the same space as I was. Sure, I had signed myself up for such luxury, but I was also ready to be on my own for a second or two. Once the guys had finally left—promising to call me in an hour and if I didn’t answer, they were calling the squad—I took a breath and looked around the room.
Everything is where I remember leaving it, but everything also seems to be slightly out of place. It’s clear they had turned it upside down once I was gone but tried to make it seem like they hadn’t touched anything. Looking around my one bedroom apartment from the couch, I notice a stack of books that looks like it’s about to topple over, so I stand to go and straighten them. Sure enough, as soon as I touch the stack, it tumbles over into a mess of spines and inked up pages.
As I work to restack them, my eyes catch something that’s fallen to the floor. It’s an envelope and when I flip it over to look at the front of it, I realize it’s the envelope with the letter that Marshall had left for me. I never read it after receiving it but remember angrily tossing it onto the pile of books, deciding to pretend like it didn’t exist. Just like I pretended my feelings around losing him didn’t exist, when they very much did. Knowing that reading his letter is part of processing the emotions I have about losing him, I settle myself onto the floor and carefully undo the seal. I try to take a steading breath as I pull out his letter and start to read his chicken scratch handwriting.
Malcolm –
If you’re reading this well, well it means I’m dead. Which is a weird thing to put to paper but it’s something I’ve known was coming for awhile now so I guess I should just get used to the idea of it. Everyone dies, you’ll die, although I hope that doesn’t happen for a very long time.
A chuckle escapes my throat as I read the start of his letter because even in writing, his sense of humor and sarcasm is crystal clear.
I’m sorry for not telling you I wasn’t well. There was a part of me that wanted to pretend like what the doctors were telling me wasn’t real and another part of me that didn’t want to dampen your fire with my own rainstorm. You don’t deserve that. You have such a fire to you, Malcolm, one that I’ve never seen in another person before and one that I hope you hold with you forever. You can endure anything life throws at you. Even when you get a little lost, I know that you can find your way back again. I never had children of my own, but if I did, I would hope they’d turn out like you. Noble, caring, hard working, and resilient. Even when life gets hard or beats you down, you stand back up every time, and I’ve always admired that about you.
I’m always in your corner, kid, even when I’m gone. And if you don’t believe me, check the ring.
My watery eyes squint at the last line. Check the ring? I didn’t know what he meant by that but kept reading.
And you better keep that girl of yours close. She’s a keeper and if you don’t realize that by now then you’re even dumber than I thought you were. But I see it – how good she is for you. Your whole face lights up when you see her as if she’s the goddamn sun. She brings a light to you that I haven’t seen in years. Don’t fuck things up with her or I’ll haunt your ass for the rest of time.
I love you kid.
The letter ends with his name scribbled at the bottom of the page. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and reread the letter quickly to make sure I read it all correctly the first time. Once I reach the bottom of the page, my heart aches from the loss of him all over again. My mind also hangs on the line that confused me on my first read through.
Don’t believe me? Check the ring.
I have no idea what he means but know that in order to find out, I’m going to have to go and see her. After showering quickly and changing my clothes, I pick up the letter and fold it carefully before tucking it into my back pocket. My keys jangle as I slide them off the hook by my door and head for my truck.
I’d made her a promise to come and get the ring once I was ready to be the man she needed me to be. And with Marshall’s words ringing in my ears, I know that I’m ready to fulfill that promise.