Chapter 4 #2
“I’ll go,” I concede. I give her foot one last squeeze and, hesitantly, kiss her cheek. I don’t give time for a reaction before I see myself out.
The door closes behind me and the sound makes me flinch.
Take off your shoes. But I had to put them back on.
I sigh, getting into my car, letting Lana rest before I go off to my meeting.
Christian
Are you sure it’s here?
Nico
Yes
Christian
Do I just go in?
Nico
Yes…
Christian
Front door?
Nico
Wtf Christian have you never gone inside a building before?
Christian
This doesn’t look like a place where AA is
Nico
It’s just a meeting, go inside
Groaning, I lock my phone. There is no way it’s here, at the M&M B&B, every Friday night. Nico must be a liar because this is the last place I’d expect an AA meeting to be. I scratch at the short stubble around my jaw and push my hair back before I force myself up the steps and through the door.
Behind the desk is Marilyn, whose smile falters a bit when she sees me. “Hi, Marilyn,” I say. “Long time no see.”
“Christian.”
I dip my chin. Marilyn has this authoritative thing about her even when she isn’t trying. She looks at you long enough and you feel something start to crawl on your skin. She’s also Team Lana.
“I’m here for—”
“I know, kid.” She jerks her chin to her right. “It’s in the dining room.”
“Thanks Marilyn.”
I sigh and stuff my fists into my pockets. I take a deep breath before I push the door open and see more people than I was expecting. The first person I see though? Terrance.
My eyes widen. I didn’t know…
He nods at me, and I nod back. “Terrance…”
“Christian,” he says and pats my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, kid.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“I was hoping you’d show up soon.”
I shuffle on my feet. “So everyone knows then.”
“Not everyone,” Terrance assures me, handing me a glass of water. “But I’ve known you since you were a child, Calloway. You could never get past me.”
I take a giant gulp of water. “I guess not.”
“Come on,” he says. “We’re gonna start soon.”
I float around for a bit, grabbing a piece of pie and pouring myself some soda. I try not to think about how badly I wish I could control myself around alcohol. How badly I just want one drink after today and after leaving Lana’s.
But one drink always turns into another. Then another and another and another, and it never stops once I’ve started. I always end up in deep shit when it happens. In New York—I try not to think about it but it’s hard not to. In New York, things were worse. Darker.
Lana was always on my mind, everywhere I went. No matter who I spoke to or where I was, I spaced out because in my head I saw her face and heard her voice. I heard her crying about my addiction and I heard her screams when I came home drunk.
Sometimes I still do.
And in New York there were few ways to forget it—self sabotaging ways to forget.
First it was the drinking in the clubs. Then with the so-called friends I had made. Then came the drugs—the pills, the coke, things I would have never tried if it weren’t for them. Then the women…
A girl would be on my lap, entirely naked and riding me on a random couch or bent over in a bathroom of a club, and behind my eyelids would be Lana’s face. I pretended who ever I was fucking was her, and I was always high and drunk, so it was easy to do.
I was reckless and messy, and I thought I was fine. I thought it was fun and I was happy—perfect. Until it caught up to me and only the very few people around me who cared saved my life.
That is how I ended up sober, but she is the reason I stay sober. So I’m here in an AA meeting in my small hometown where I’ve come back to get my girl back. She deserved better from me and I’m ready to give it to her. I’m finally able to.
Everyone is sitting in a circle now. Each person goes, one by one, until it’s my turn.
“Hi. I’m Christian.” I take a beat to sigh. “And I’m an alcoholic.”
After the meeting I go right to Lana’s to make myself at home in her driveway again. As I am pulling in, she’s locking her front door. So I get out of my car.
She turns and walks down her front steps wearing a sleeveless dark purple dress that stops at her knees—the top half tight around her upper body but loose at her hips—and short black heels to match.
She looks like a dream.
Her olive skin glowing under the twilight and her long hair cascading in waves around her back and shoulders, her longer bangs curled back. I lean back against my car, crossing my arms and ankles.
Lana is putting her keys in her bag, then she looks up and stops short. “Jesus, Christian, don’t do that!”
I drink her in once more, wetting my bottom lip. “Where are you going?”
Her chin is in the air as she straightens out her dress. “I have a date.”
I chuckle. “With golden boy?”
“Don’t be mean, Christian.”
Keep saying my name.
I push off the car and take a couple steps toward her. “I’m not being mean. He’s blond. You never liked blonds.”
“Maybe I have a new type.” She pushes her shoulders back, adjusting her posture, and looking up at me with those caramel eyes. “And maybe you just aren’t it anymore.”
“No?”
“No,” she breathes shakily.
“No?”
“Damn it, Christian, no!”
I chuckle, but inside I think I’m dying. Tonight's meeting felt raw, like opening old wounds. Maybe that’s what I have to do for all of this to work, I know. That makes sense. But this is a different level of pain.
My hands tremble a bit, aching to reach out to her, and I can’t because she’ll only push me away. I won’t be able to hold it against her if she does.
“So is he picking you up?”
“Yes.” She rolls her eyes.
“Where is he taking you?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me through her long lashes. “That is none of your business.”
“Okay, fair enough.” I’ll play along. “Does his car have airbags? Are you splitting the bill or is he taking care of it?”
“Christian.” A warning.
“Does he hold doors open for you?”
“Chivalry isn’t the only thing—”
“Isn’t the only thing that matters? You deserve chivalry.”
“Well, I’ve never really gotten what I deserve, have I? Much less from you.”
I run my tongue over my teeth and nod, my hands curling into fists in the pockets of my pants. Is this what it’s like to be shot? I’ve been punched in a stupid drunken fight, almost shattering my nose, but none of those hits have ever felt like this one. And worse? This one is warranted.
“Right,” I breathe, looking down at my feet.
A car pulls up in front of her house but she hasn’t taken her eyes off of me. “Christian, I shouldn’t have said—”
“No,” I laugh dryly. “You’re right. You deserved better.”
“I deserved you. The real you,” she says quietly. “My Christian.”
I nod and accept it. Her Christian.
“I want you,” she barely whispers, but I hear it.
I hear the present tense, no past tenses now. It’s a tiny sliver of hope, kind of like the tiniest sprout coming out of the dirt I’ve laid down. It’s barely there, but it’s there, I see it. So I’ll water it and make it grow and we’ll bloom and we’ll be just fine.
“Lana!” We turn toward the voice and I’m looking at the golden boy through the passenger side window and he’s waving to get Lana’s attention before lowering the window. “Lana! Lana, hey!”
This motherfucker isn’t getting out of the car?
She gives him one of those weak smiles and stiff wave. “Hey, one second,” she tells him. “Christian—”
“He can’t get out and open the door for you? Greet you a better way than shouting your name through a window?”
“Christian…”
I shake my head and sigh. “Go, have fun,” I say. “I’ll check on you later.”
Lana hesitates before she walks away from me. Levi doesn’t get out of his car. And he doesn’t open her door.