Chapter 11
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Lyra
No sooner had we pulled up outside the house than I remembered this particular client. His name was Duncan, and he was a special case. It would take guts, emotional strength, and luck to convince him to calm down and rethink his life-ending motives.
As I paced towards where Charlie and a suicidal man waited, I tried to push away the emotions stirring inside. Damn, that was one of the hottest car rides of my life. I couldn”t help but feel attracted to Zalantha, his alien scent, his firm thighs, and the way his growing cock pulsed on my back.
I could sense Zalantha behind me, watching my every move. The thought of getting down and dirty with an alien made me wet with an uncontrollable desire, and my panties were soaked. I couldn”t let my body control me right now, though. I had to get a grip and focus on my next task.
Part of me hated the fact that he”d been right about my drinking. I had to stop, but the thought of not having the occasional tipple filled my heart with dread. Alcohol had been a part of my life for so long – a part of my culture, growing up with drink in the house, parties, socializing with my friends, celebrations, downers, highs – it was there all the time, staring at me in the face like a smiley clown with a magical balloon full of helium coated gin.
How the hell was I supposed to live without alcohol? I guessed that was why Zalantha had come from Mesoterra to show me.
But first, I had other, more impending, issues to deal with. I had to get to work and help Charlie save Duncan”s life.
I got to the door and rang the bell, shouting echoing in the distance.
”Oh, thank God you”re here,” said Charlie, panting as he wiped sweat from his brow. ”I can”t deal with Duncan anymore. He”s off his rocker.”
”Where is he?”
”Upstairs, about to jump.”
”Oh shit,” I said, barging past him. ”Fill me in as we go upstairs.”
I ran up, Charlie bumbling behind me.
”He”s threatening to kill himself, says that he doesn”t want his daughter to grow up with an alcoholic father and that she”d be better off with him under the ground instead of breathing hot fumes of booze on her cot.”
He was probably right, but there was an easier way to deal with this.
”Let”s see what I can do.”
The atmosphere was heavy with tension as we reached Duncan”s room. I braced myself for what awaited inside. As the door creaked open, the scene unfolded before me. Julia, Duncan”s wife, a young woman with messy blond hair, was huddled in the corner of the room. She clutched their baby tightly in her arms, her eyes swollen from tears, her face marked with distress. The cries of the infant mingled with her sobs, creating a heartbreaking symphony of despair.
Duncan, once a lively and energetic man, appeared frail and skinny, like a mere shadow of his former self. He stood on the edge of a precipice, both physically and metaphorically. His gaunt figure seemed to teeter on the brink of collapse, a poignant reflection of the internal struggle that had brought him to this dire moment.
As we entered, Julia cast a desperate glance, her eyes pleading for help. Charlie and I exchanged a knowing look, silently acknowledging the urgency. It was a critical moment, and we needed to act swiftly to prevent the irreversible.
Duncan glanced behind, saw me, and panicked.
”Get back,” he shouted, leaning further out the window.
”No,” shouted Julia. ”Duncan, don”t do it.”
”Then get back, everyone.”
I stared into his eyes and smiled.
”Duncan, please. Duncan, it”s me,” I said. I knew what he was going through. It was time to open up. ”Don”t do it, Duncan; you can get through this.”
”No, I can”t take it: the late nights, the lack of sleep, that baby is going to kill me.”
”It”s not the baby that”s going to kill you,” said Julia. ”It”s that damn drink. If you were only to stay off the bottle for five minutes, you might be able to deal with her.”
”Nonsense,” he blurted, his eyes red with rage.
The baby wailed, and Julia sobbed.
”Take them out of here,” I said to Charlie. ”Let me handle this.”
”Come on, let”s go,” said Charlie, waving Julia to get up.
Once they”d left, silence ensued, and the seriousness of the situation engulfed me. I could feel Zalantha close, spying to see how I managed this tense situation.
I took a step closer to Duncan, and he flinched.
”Stay back,” he shouted. ”If you come closer, then I”ll jump. I want this to end.”
I took a deep breath. I had to be strong.
”You want what to end?” I dared to ask.
”The suffering, the poison.”
”Are you talking about the drink?”
”What would you know about the drink?” He turned and glared at me. ”You look fine, perfectly functional.”
”Appearances can be deceiving.”
He frowned, scanned my body, and seemed to relax.
”What do you mean?”
I took another deep breath, my mind momentarily drifting back to the haunting echoes of my past. Flashes of memories surged through my consciousness like a relentless tide, pulling me into the depths of my struggles. There it was - the recollection of that first drink with Al, a seemingly innocuous sip that marked the beginning of a tumultuous journey. The taste lingered in my mind, bitter and yet strangely comforting.
But the memories didn”t stop there. In the recesses of my thoughts, the image of my father on his deathbed surfaced, a stark reminder of the devastating impact that alcohol had wreaked on my family. His weakened frame, the pained expressions etched on his face, and the silent plea in his eyes -all served as a testament to the destructive power of addiction.
With these vivid recollections, a surge of empathy and determination welled inside me. It was time to open up, not just for myself, but for others who battled their demons. The weight of my own experiences had equipped me with a unique understanding, a shared language with those who felt trapped in the clutches of addiction.
I refocused on the present, shaking off the ghosts of my past.
Zalantha”s presence lingered in the periphery, a supportive energy that nudged me forward. I steeled myself for the task ahead, knowing that the vulnerability I was about to expose could be a lifeline for someone else.
”I mean, you”re not alone in this,” I whispered, peeling back the layers of my vulnerability.
”What are you blabbering about?”
”I”ve walked your path, too. I know the suffering, the torture. But I also know there”s a way out.”
As I spoke those words, I felt the weight of responsibility and the power of shared experiences converging in that room. It was a pivotal moment, not just for Duncan, but for me - an opportunity to turn the echoes of my past into a beacon of hope for someone else on the brink of despair.
”How do you know?”
”I have the same problem.”
”You do?” his eyes widened, and he seemed to relax.
”Yeah, I know what it”s like, the suffering, the torture.”
”I can”t take it; it”s bigger than me.”
”It might feel that way, but it”s not. It”s only temporary; there”s always a solution.”
”How do you know?”
”Let”s just say I have powers greater than me.”
”What do you mean?”
I could sense Zalantha near me, watching me. I trusted him, his alien ways. He had a way with words and of making me see the truth. Maybe I could use his example.
”Go back to your past; think of that first drink. When was it?”
”I was only a kid. Ten years old. My dad gave me a shot of whiskey before I had to go on stage at school to perform in a nativity play. I was nervous as hell, and it helped. I aced that performance, but since then, it”s been my go-to.”
”I had the same feeling, the same experience, but I know now that life is sweeter without it.”
”I wish it were.”
He went to move. His body was hanging out the window.
”Duncan, come on. Give me a chance to help.”
”It”s too late. I can”t take this; it”s unfair on my wife and our baby. I don”t want her to have a drunk dad. She”ll end up like me.”
”Then change your opinion about yourself. Get sober, and everything will get easier.”
”But how?”
I wished I had the magical answer, but I was still on the road to recovery. I needed to buy more time. I stepped closer, my heart pounding with fear and determination.
”Step back from the window, and I”ll show you,” I urged, my voice a gentle plea threaded with an urgency that mirrored the gravity of the situation.
”I can”t.”
The room seemed to constrict around us, the air thick with desperation. It was a dance with darkness, and Duncan, in his fragile state, teetered on the precipice of oblivion. With every passing second, it looked as though he might slip away, succumbing to the pull of the void outside that window.
In that tense silence, I carefully chose my words, hoping to forge a connection that could anchor him to the realm of the living.
”I understand the pain, Duncan. I”ve stood where you”re standing now. But there”s another path - a path towards healing, towards reclaiming your life. You don”t have to face this alone.”
”I don”t?” he asked.
His body swayed, seemingly caught in the gravitational pull of his internal struggles, and the world outside the window beckoned with an unsettling allure.
”Duncan, take my hand,” I whispered, extending my arm towards him.
The seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity as he hesitated, suspended between the two opposing forces that tugged at his very existence.
And then, with a tentative movement, he reached out. His trembling hand clasped mine, and a fragile connection was established - a lifeline between two souls navigating the treacherous waters of addiction.
”That”s it. Now step back, and I”ll tell you a secret.”
”What?”
I took a deep breath. It was time to be honest.
”I have a drinking problem as well, but I”ve found a way out.”
”How?”
”You have to look at your life from another angle, think about why you drink, and then slowly but surely convince yourself to leave it.”
”I don”t believe you.”
”Believe me. My mom is a drunk; my dad died of it, too, but I love them both, just like your wife loves you. She needs you, but the real you, not the drunk you.”
”But it”s been so long.”
”I know, but there”s a way; just climb back.”
”Can I trust you?”
”One hundred per cent.”
He turned, and I held his hand tighter and slowly guided him towards me. He stepped back and dropped to the floor, sobbing like a baby.
I wanted to cry. I”d opened up, and it had helped. Maybe that was the way forward. I had to follow my advice.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
”Proud of you,” whispered Zalantha.
”Thanks,” said Duncan, looking up at me. He”d heard Zalantha too. I was about to say it hadn”t been me, that my Purple Healer was behind everything, but Julia barged into the room and sprinted towards her husband.
”Oh, thank God,” she cried, embracing him and me.
As they hugged, my heart filled with emotion. I was experiencing what it was like to help people. Perhaps, by opening up about my issues, I could save more lives.
Charlie came in, his eyes teary.
”Well done,” he mouthed, winking at me. I guessed he was full of questions.
”What happens now?” asked Duncan.
”Now we get you to our clinic and dry you out,” I said.
”I don”t want to leave Julia,” he said, kissing her forehead.
”I”ll be fine,” she said. ”You have to listen to what she says. She just saved your life, and mine.”
Julia reached out and grasped my hand. The corners of my eyes burned, but I had to control my emotions.
”Let”s get you downstairs,” said Charlie, helping Duncan to stand up.
He led them towards the door, and relief washed over me.
Outside, another car was already waiting to take Duncan to our clinic. Once he”d said his goodbyes to Julia, they drove him away. Julia thanked me again and went back inside to tend to her baby.
Charlie turned to me and took me by the hand.
”I”m kind of hoping you made that up,” he said. ”But it was true, wasn”t it?”
”Yeah,” I said, my bottom lip trembling.
”Oh, Lyra, I had no idea.”
”I guess I”m good at keeping secrets.”
”Well, your secrets are safe with me.”
”Thanks, Charlie. It”s a bit of a shock to me too, but I”m working on it.”
”What made you open up like that?” he asked.
Flashes of Zalantha filled my mind. Seeing him for the first time in my car, his smile and laugh, and listening to his soothing voice.
”Let”s just say I”ve seen the light.”
”What type of light?”
”A purple one.”
Charlie laughed but then frowned.
”You okay?” he asked, looking concerned.
”Yeah, I”m good, really good. Look, I”d better get home and get some rest. I could do with some food, a shower, and a nap.”
”Sure, I”ll cover you for now.”
”Thanks, Charlie.”
”No, thanks to you for helping me and being honest. You take it easy now.”
”I will.”
As I headed to my car, I hoped Zalantha would be waiting for me. I hoped he was proud of what I did because it was a step in the right direction, a step towards freedom.
But when I opened the door and called out his name, no one answered back.