by Ava Harrison
“I’d like to explain a little about the facility. Here at Serenity, we treat both the physical and mental dependencies. If needed, we are capable of providing the sufferer,” he smiles at me before he continues, “with a full detoxification program as well as all mental health aspects the sufferer will need to heal. While cocaine use usually doesn’t lead to the same physical addictions as, say, other drugs, it can often lead to psychological withdrawal symptoms. Charlotte and I will work together to make sure that during your stay here we address and treat the underlying issues that led you down this path. How does that sound, Olivia?”
“Good.” I nod. “It sounds good.”
“Okay, great. I see here . . .” Dr. Andrews pauses as he looks down at the open file on his lap. “I see we have you signed up for a four-week commitment to address the addiction as well as any behavioral issues that might have contributed. At the end of the four-week time frame, you can always opt to stay longer. But if you choose to not continue after the thirty days, we will set you up in outpatient aftercare. This part is critical as recovery is a lifelong process.”
We sit for a minute, my parents asking the necessary questions that I can’t think to ask. I sign myself in, officially registering for four weeks. Once all the paperwork is done, Dr. Andrews shakes my and my parents’ hands before leaving us with Charlotte.
“How about that tour, and when we’re done I’ll show Olivia to her room?” Charlotte asks and we all nod as she leads us toward a set of double doors that must hold the treatment facilities.
“As Dr. Andrews previously said, here at Serenity we like to focus on what led to your addiction rather than solely the substance that brought you here to us. Our hope is to figure out where the addiction stemmed from and then reprogram the way you think, and heal you. Unlike other facilities, we offer mainly one-on-one therapy sessions. In these sessions, you’ll work with Dr. Andrews to uncover the issues that led you to begin the use of cocaine. After we address the issue, we will help you to learn new coping mechanisms to deal with your stressors. When you leave the center, you will be equipped to handle them and will hopefully not have a relapse.”
I nod. The rationale makes complete sense.
We continue to walk and Charlotte points to a room on the right as we continue our way down the hall. “These doors on your left, will bring you to our wonderful state-of-the-art spa. Also, in addition to the spa, we also have an array of specialized therapy programs you can take part in.”
“Such as?” my dad asks.
“An example is art therapy. Participants who choose this can create a piece such as a drawing or sculpture. During the process, an art therapist will be present to guide you through the emotions, feelings and thoughts behind the work and how it relates to your life and your addiction. If art isn’t for you, we also offer music therapy or nature hikes, as well as yoga and Reiki sessions.” She pushes open a large glass door and we step inside. The room is vast and spacious. A group of women is doing yoga.
“This looks fantastic,” my mom says. “How about phone privileges?” Apparently, my mom doesn’t want to go a day without speaking to me.
“Great question. You will have limited access to your phone and Wi-Fi. Only for emergencies and if that happens, we like to be fully informed.”
Am I really doing this?
Can I?
Yes. I can.
With Olivia gone, and the Barcelona and now St. Barth’s deals almost to completion, I have a lot of time on my hands to think.
Having watched the downward spiral Olivia went through shook me to my core. I need to do something about Pierce, and not just pay some money to make that shit go away. I need to decide what the hell is going on with him and get him help.
The strain with Grant doesn’t help. My father is quiet about what went down that morning all those years ago, and Grant doesn’t talk to any of us long enough to tell us, so it’s time I get to the bottom of it.
I pick up the phone and I’m surprised when he answers since he’s avoided my last dozen attempts. “We need to talk.”
“I can’t.”
“Why did you do it? I thought we had a breakthrough.” I sigh into the phone.
“Just because I told you about Dad, just because I was there at the hospital, doesn’t mean anything has changed.”
“But to fuck with my business? To fuck with the family business?”
“I don’t want to talk about this. Go back to your perfect life with your perfect girlfriend and I’ll get back to mine,” he bites out.
“My perfect girlfriend. I just had to watch her struggle for her life, you asshole. Are you that spiteful?”
“I didn’t know.” His voice is low, remorseful.
“I know you didn’t. She’ll be okay, but having this happen made me realize a lot. I want my brother back. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for Dad to make me the CEO, nor did I tell him to disinherit you. You’re hurting me by doing this. Your beef is with him, not me. I just want my brother back.” I breathe. “Why won’t you let me in? Tell me what happened?”
“I can’t.”
“Please.” The phone goes silent for a minute and I wonder if he’s hung up. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’ll try.”
And that answers my question. Maybe it won’t be today when he opens up to me, maybe not tomorrow either, but this is a start and I’ll take it.
An hour later, I’m pulling up to the Lancaster compound in Connecticut. The main house stands proud surrounded by rolling acres of green. Future plots of land for the Lancaster heirs.
I’ve never imagined building a house for myself there, but now I can envision it all in my head. A mixture of contemporary lines and elegant features; a marriage of designs. I can’t wait to one day build it with Olivia by my side.
I shake my head. One day at a time. First she needs to get better. Then we can plan a future.
I drive down the long path to the main house and park my Aston Martin in the circular drive. When I reach the front door, I realize I didn’t bring the spare key so I ring the bell and, surprisingly, my mother answers. Usually, a member of the staff does.
“Spencer,” she says with a warm smile. The lines around her eyes grow deeper with worry. “What a nice surprise. We weren’t expecting you.”
“I need to speak to Dad.”
“And you couldn’t call first?”
“I couldn’t run the risk of you or him putting me off.”
“Oh.” She doesn’t say more, but I can tell she’s concerned by the way she bites her lip. “This way. Your dad is resting in the library.”
When I walk in, the air in my lungs leaves my body. My dad looks bad. Really bad. Old. Frail. “Hey, son.” Even the sound of his voice is different from the man I grew up with. I don’t know this man. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” I don’t want to burden him anymore. But then I look more closely at him and realize that as with Olivia, or with her friend Lindsey, the future isn’t clear. I’m lucky Olivia is still alive. That I have no regrets hanging over me. But can my dad say the same? Can Grant? If something were to happen to my dad or Grant, would the regrets of their pasts always haunt them? I decide then and there, no matter how frail he looks, we need to speak.
I take a seat and say what I came here to say. “Dad, you need to talk to Grant.”
“And you need to mind your own business,” he mumbles.
“No, I have stayed out of it long enough. I have let you tear this family apart, but not any longer. I love you, Dad, but this needs to end. I don’t know what happened, and quite frankly, I don’t care. It ends before we miss more of his life.”
“I never told you not to have a relationship with your brother. That’s on you.”
“You’re right, you didn’t, but you sure as hell didn’t help. Whatever happened left a toxic environment for everyone in the family, and eventually it eroded Grant’s relationships with all of us. Fix it.”
> “I can’t.”
“You have to. Don’t you want to meet your granddaughter?”
His face pales. “Of course I do.”
“Then make it right.”
“How?”
“That I can’t tell you, but it’s time you open your heart up. Be the bigger person and figure it out.”
He doesn’t speak for a minute then nods. He looks tired. Emotionally worn out from the exchange. After a minute I stand and take his hand. “I’m going to let you rest. Think about it.” I lean down and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Dad.”
I turn to walk away. “Spencer.”
I look back at him.
“You make me real proud.”
And for the first time in forever, I have hope for the Lancaster family.
A week has passed since I arrived here, and today I find myself sitting across the room from Dr. Andrews.
“What made you decide to use cocaine?”
A part of me still doesn’t want to answer. We’ve been tiptoeing around it, or at least I have, not wanting to admit my weakness, to confront it. Deep down I know this is necessary, though. I know saying the words will help me.
“I’m not skinny enough,” I blurt out before I take a long, audible sigh. That’s not it. Being skinny is not the reason I used coke, and if I was going to be healthy, I needed to be honest with him and with myself. Because this is about more than my weight. It’s so much more than that.
“I’m not good enough. I’ve never been, and the drugs . . . They made it go away.”
“Made what go away?”
“All of it.”
“Olivia, I know this is a lot to talk about. It’s okay if you aren’t ready today. We don’t have to figure everything out now. We can work up to it.”
I think about it for a moment. If I were to say the words, I’d say . . .
I started the drugs at first to lose weight, but in truth, it was a way to escape how unhappy I was. It was a way to take control of my life when I felt as if it was flying out of control. I’d failed out of school. Family secrets had come out, and I didn’t know how to cope. The modeling, the weight, the drugs were all things I could control. Or so I thought. But I’m not ready to face that yet, or at least not to find the words to tell him. So I nod and vow to try better tomorrow.
The next day comes, and I’m ready.
“How are you feeling today?”
“A little better.”
“Are you ready to talk about why you started modeling?”
I am. “I was twenty-one, in my third year of school and I was failing, but I-I couldn’t tell my parents. Instead, I told them I wanted to pursue this career choice.”
“Why did you feel you couldn’t tell them?”
“They were going through so much with Lynn. With discovering she was their daughter. I couldn’t burden them. I wanted to excel at something. I’m not like the rest of my family, and I didn’t know what else to do, but in the end, I failed at that, too. I failed at everything. I even failed at being a daughter.”
“Did something happen to make you think that?”
“My father left. He left my mom, and he left me when I was a baby. Shouldn’t he have stayed for me? Tried for me?”
“But he did.”
“Yes, eventually. Or maybe he realized the grass is never greener. Maybe he didn’t come back to be my father. Maybe he came back because he didn’t want to be alone.”
“Have you ever discussed what happened with your dad?”
“Why would I? It doesn’t change anything.”
“But it does, Olivia. Don’t you see? When did the drugs start?”
“When I started modeling.”
“And when was that?”
“When I found out. What are you saying? Are you saying this all stems from my parents?”
“You just told me you weren’t enough, right? That you used drugs because you felt inadequate.”
“And you’re saying this started when I found out the truth.”
“Your first thought, the first thing you said was that you weren’t enough to make your father stay. I think it would be good for your healing if we had your father join us. Would you be okay with that?”
I nod, still trying to wrap my head around the idea that something so small could be so influential in my life.
“Olivia, I’d like you to work on a few things today before we meet again tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“First, I’d like to see when your dad is available to come, to join us for one of your therapy sessions. But before that, I’d like you to write down your triggers. Words, feeling, and thoughts, so we can discuss them.”
My scheduled appointment isn’t for fifteen minutes, but I need the minute to calm my nerves. The idea of finally asking my father all the unanswered questions hangs on me. I’ve never confronted the issue. I simply buried my head in the sand, pretending his previous actions didn’t haunt me.
Until now.
Now, there’s no more hiding. Dr. Anderson is right. If I don’t confront this demon, I’ll never actually be cured. It’s time to heal.
When I step inside the room, the air in my lungs leaves my body in shock. Dad’s already here. He’s sitting down, his head in his hands, but when he hears the door hit the wall, his head pops up. He looks tired as if the weight of the world rests on his shoulders.
I did this to him.
This pain he harbors is my fault.
I don’t even make it a step within the room before I’m pulled into his arms. His embrace wraps around me, comforting me.
“Daddy . . .”
“Sweetie.” He hugs me tighter, and I start to shake in his grasp. Every pent up emotion is bubbling to the surface until the dam finally breaks and tears spring from my eyes.
“Why?” I ask between croaked sobs escaping my throat. I pull back, looking into my father’s eyes. His broken eyes. “Why did you leave me? Why wasn’t I enough for you to stay?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Olivia. It was never your fault. It had nothing to do with my love for you.” A tear runs down my father’s face. “I was a different man then. I was selfish, but it never meant I didn’t love you. When I thought I was losing you and your mom, I came back. I begged and pleaded to come back, because leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life. I have always loved you, Olivia. You will always be my little girl. Never doubt that. Ever.”
I’m not sure how long we stand there in each other’s arms before Dr. Anderson walks in, but when I pull away, it feels as if a burden has been lifted off me. I had never realized how much I needed to hear him tell me it wasn’t my fault, but now that he has, peace falls over me.
I’m lighter.
Content.
Free.
As the weeks pass and the sessions continue, I start to realize so much about my family and myself. Being able to talk to my dad and finally hear what happened was healing and helped me move forward.
Sometimes everything needs to fall apart before you can rebuild and construct a stronger foundation.
I learned that the hardest and also the most important thing is learning to love myself.
I’m still working on that. Day by day, I love myself more and more. It’s been a long time since I believed I deserved love. For years I clung to this, too scared that I wasn’t enough, too afraid to fail. But I’m not scared anymore.
I’m ready to move on.
The week I’m scheduled to leave, Dr. Andrews is sitting across from me, notebook in hand. He places it down on the coffee table and leans forward. “So what do you want to do now? You stated last session you no longer want to model. That it’s a stressor for you. So now that modeling is out of the question do you have any ideas what you want to do?”
“I’m not sure what my options are?”
“Well, tell me something you feel passionate about?”
“That no one goes through what I went through.”
“What do you mean?”
“The drugs, self-doubt. The dieting. I realize now just how toxic being a model was for me.”
“What would you do if you could go back and talk to your former self?”
“I would tell her she was beautiful on the inside and out. I’d like to go up to the model who gave me that bump so many weeks ago and say why? And I’d like to tell the photographer I don’t need to be sick to be beautiful. I already am.”
“So why don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“There has to be an advocacy group for them. You can look into finding a job there.”
“No. I could never.”
“Why not?”
“I . . .” I stare at him for a minute trying to put into words my insecurities. My doubts. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to work in the industry. I need to do something simple.”
“Like what, Olivia?” He inclines his head as he waits for me to answer.
“I could go back to school and become a . . .” My words travel off as I try to think of a career. But nothing of interest comes to mind. “I could open a boutique. I like clothes.”
“Would that make you happy?”
“I don’t think so,” I admit on a sigh.
“Then I don’t think you should do it. I don’t think you should do anything you aren’t passionate about.”
“I just don’t think I’m—”
“You are strong enough. You conquered your addiction not only physically but also mentally. You’ve come so far. You’ve grown so much. If any one can do this, it’s you. Believe in yourself, Olivia.”
And in that moment . . .
In my weakness, I find my strength.
Thirty days . . .
Thirty long, hard days.
Thirty day of learning who I am, and healing parts of myself that I didn’t even know were broken.
