Starting Over (Treading Water Trilogy)

by Force, Marie

  He paid the check and walked her to her car. The temperature had dropped during the hour they’d spent at Priscilla’s.

  “Is it supposed to snow?” she asked.

  “Not that I’ve heard, but it sure smells like snow, doesn’t it?”

  She glanced up at him. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Colin found that he couldn’t look away from her. “Can we do this again? Maybe dinner next time?”

  She got busy finding her keys in her purse. “I don’t think so, Colin. But thanks for asking and for the pie.”

  “Sure,” he said, holding the car door for her.

  “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

  He stood there for a long time after she drove away, feeling more disappointed than he’d been in a long time.

  Chapter 8, Day 30

  Brandon felt the heat of all eyes on him. After several minutes of awkward silence, Steve, the group leader, zeroed in on him. “Brandon?”

  Brandon nodded as a bead of sweat rolled down his back. Is it hot in here, or is it me? Finally, he cleared his throat, and without looking up, he said, “My name is Brandon, and…uh, I’m an alcoholic.”

  “Hi, Brandon,” the group replied.

  “I, um, I want to say that even though I haven’t said anything before now, I’ve been listening, and you all have helped me a lot. So thank you for that.” He released a long deep breath and looked over at Steve. “This is hard.”

  “Take your time.”

  After another long pause, Brandon continued. “I’ve learned a lot about myself and my drinking in the last month. I think I’ve always known I didn’t drink the way other people did, but I never gave it much thought before now. My brothers and I would go out for a few beers, even when we were just old enough to drink, and they’d have two or three, but I’d down six in an hour. In the last couple of years, it would take me at least a twelve-pack to catch a buzz, so I started adding shots of whiskey to the mix. I was, uh, drinking so much I blacked out almost every day for the last few months before I came here. During those blackouts, I did a lot of shameful things—things I’ll be dealing with for a long time.”

  Brandon took a drink from the cup of ice water he’d brought to the meeting and discovered his hand was trembling.

  “Most of my life, I’ve kept some pretty big secrets that have festered into even larger resentments. All of that combined to bring me here, and I have a lot of amends to make when I get home.”

  Brandon looked up to find Alan leaning against the back wall.

  He smiled and nodded with encouragement.

  Fueled by his new friend’s support, Brandon sat up a little straighter in his chair. “I’ve been told my attitude has changed a lot in the last thirty days, and I feel better physically than I have in years. So I just want to say I’m very determined to stay sober, and I’ll be hoping all of you are successful, too. Thank you.”

  The group embarrassed him with their applause. “Thank you, Brandon,” they said in unison.

  “Keep going to meetings,” Steve reminded him. “We recommend ninety meetings in the first ninety days. We’ve found that’s how you set a pattern that lasts a lifetime.”

  “I will,” Brandon promised.

  When the meeting was over, Brandon went to talk to Alan. They shook hands.

  “You did great, Brandon.”

  “I didn’t say much.”

  “You said enough. How do you feel?”

  “Relieved. I’d been kind of dreading that.”

  “It’s always a big deal to say the words, ‘I’m an alcoholic,’ for the first time in a room full of people you hardly know.”

  “I do know them. Maybe not personally, in some cases, but I understand them better than most people would. After all, I’m one of them, right?”

  Alan nodded with satisfaction. “I’m proud of you, Brandon. You’ve come so far from the day we first met, and it seems like you really get it now.”

  “That means a lot coming from you.”

  “How’re you doing with the spiritual issues we discussed?”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of reading and thinking about it.”

  “That’s a good start. Remember, AA only encourages you to relate to a higher power as you define it.” Alan reached for his wallet and withdrew his card. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  Brandon laughed as he accepted the card. “I won’t throw it away this time.”

  “Call me—any time.”

  “I will.” Brandon shook Alan’s hand. “Thank you for everything.”

  “I’ll pray for you.”

  “Thanks, Alan.”

  “So what do you think, Brandon?” Sondra asked at their final session. Brandon’s father would be arriving soon to drive him home. “Ready to go back out and face the world?”

  “I hope so. I feel good. Better than I have in a long time.”

  “How’s the running going?”

  “I’m up to five miles, and I’ve been lifting weights. I don’t feel like I’m going to die from the effort anymore.”

  “You look much better than you did the first time we met.”

  “Yeah, well, my brother’s fist hasn’t been near my face in a month, so I should look better.”

  Sondra smiled. “How about inside? You know what you have to do?”

  Brandon nodded. “Ninety meetings in ninety days, get a sponsor, read the Big Book, make my amends to the people I’ve hurt, and stay sober—not necessarily in that order.”

  “Yes, staying sober needs to be first on your list.”

  “I just worry about…”

  “What?”

  “Events where everyone’s drinking—family dinners, weddings, parties… My family is forever celebrating something, and everyone drinks—not like I did—but alcohol is part of every gathering.”

  “It’s very important that you not get too far ahead of yourself. Take each day and each event as they come. The only thing any of us really has is right now. Stay sober today. Worry about tomorrow tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “All you can do is keep your own side of the street clean. You’ll hear that expression often in AA.”

  Brandon smiled. “I like it.”

  “I see clients in town on Wednesday and Friday afternoons if you’d like to continue your therapy. Call my service to make an appointment.” She stood up and went to her desk. When she came back, she held a leather-bound book and a business card, which she handed to him. “My cell number’s on there, too. Feel free to use it. I’m just a phone call away if you ever need me.”

  The lump in his throat surprised Brandon. The support he’d received here had been overwhelming, and he had no doubt they’d saved his life by teaching him how to live. The rest would be up to him.

  “Before I let you go, I have a little tradition with all my patients,” Sondra said. “There’s always one thing that worries me more than anything else when it comes to my patients’ future sobriety. My worries differ, and I give each of you the opportunity to decide whether or not you want to hear it.”

  “What do most people do?”

  “Most choose to hear it, and they tend to be the ones who don’t end up back here again.”

  “Okay, then, bring it on. I’m ready.”

  “With you, Brandon, my biggest worry is your resentment. You absolutely must work through your issues with Aidan and find a way to accept the hand that life dealt both of you. If you continue to harbor all these secrets and resentments, your ability to stay sober will be seriously impaired at some point. You must also tell your father how you feel about the business and his expectations for you.”

  “Yes, I know. I have to find a way to get through to my dad. As for Aidan, I doubt he’s even speaking to me.”

  “Then write him a letter. Find a way to explain your feelings to him. It’s going to be absolutely critical to your continued recovery that you let go of all the anger you’ve been hauling around with you for m
ost of your life.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Call me if I can help.”

  “Um, I want to thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but you got me to tell you things I’ve never told anyone.”

  She smiled. “My special gift.”

  “I’d say so,” he said with a chuckle. “Thank you.” He reached a hand out to her.

  She squeezed his hand and handed him the leather book she’d retrieved from her desk.

  “What’s this?”

  “A journal. I give one to all my graduates. Try to write something every day about the challenges and the temptations and how you feel about them. Sometimes putting it down on paper helps.”

  Brandon took the book and stood up. He wanted to hug her but thought it would be inappropriate.

  She solved the problem for him when she took a step toward him with her arms out. “Good luck to you, Brandon. We’ll all be praying for you.”

  “Thank you for everything,” he said, returning her embrace.

  “Be well.”

  After he signed discharge paperwork, Brandon returned to his room to finish packing. He zipped the book Sondra had given him into his bag, sat on the bed, and ran his hands through his hair. He was scared—truly frightened about his ability to stay sober once he left the safety net of the rehab facility. He felt as vulnerable as a newborn about to leave the womb. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he fell back into old habits and routines once he returned to familiar surroundings? What if he disappointed everyone who had such high hopes for him?

  Stop it. You can’t fail at this. One by one, the faces of the people he’d let down flashed through his mind: his parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, Valerie, the men who worked for him, and the friends he’d abandoned on his spiral into alcoholism.

  He reached over to unzip his bag and retrieved the journal. Rooting around in the bottom of the bag, he found a pen. On the first page of the book, he wrote the date. “Today is my thirtieth day of sobriety. I promise myself I will stay sober. I vow to read this promise any time I’m tempted to solve my problems by drinking. I owe more to the people in my life than what they’ve gotten from me. I’m going to do better. I’m not going to forget what I learned at Laurel Lake.” He paused for a moment before he added, “So help me, God.”

  After he reread what he had written, Brandon returned the journal and pen to his bag and zipped it closed, releasing a long deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

  The intercom buzzed, and he got up to answer it. “Brandon, your father’s here.”

  “Thank you.”

  He picked up his bag and took a last look at the sterile little room that had been his home for a month. “So help me, God,” he whispered once more before he walked out the door to face what waited for him at home.

  Chapter 9, Day 30

  On the forty-minute ride home to Chatham, Dennis kept up a steady stream of chatter about the goings-on at work, the latest funny stories about Erin’s kids, and yet another project Colleen had embarked upon in the big, pink house.

  Brandon turned his face into the chilly air coming in through the small crack he opened in the window. After being so removed from regular life, something as simple as fresh air rushing in through an open window seemed extraordinary. His senses, dulled for so long by alcohol, were on full alert to absorb the sights, sounds, and smells of life outside the walls of Laurel Lake.

  “You look good,” Dennis said, glancing at his son across the wide bench seat in his company truck as they traveled east along Route 6.

  “I feel good.” Everything they passed on the familiar road to home reminded Brandon of something from his past: the restaurant where he’d had his senior prom, the sports complex where he and his brothers had played baseball, the neighborhood where Valerie’s parents lived, the parking lots he’d plowed after a hundred snow storms. On and on it went.

  Brandon was surprised when his father went straight on Main Street rather than making a left to take Brandon to his house on Indian Hill Road, near the Chatham Municipal Airport. “Where’re we going?”

  “I thought we’d take a walk on the beach.”

  “Kind of cold for that, isn’t it?”

  Dennis cocked a blue eye at his son. “What’ve you gone soft on me in that place?”

  “Hardly.” Brandon snorted. “If you want to freeze your ass off, don’t let me stop you.”

  Dennis pulled into the parking lot at Chatham Light and killed the engine. “Let’s go.”

  Zipping his green company coat, Brandon wished for gloves.

  Dennis flipped open the tool box in the truck bed and pulled out two pairs of work gloves, tossing a pair to Brandon.

  “You read my mind.”

  “I don’t want you to catch the sniffles,” Dennis teased.

  “Bite me,” Brandon said with a laugh.

  They walked down the long flight of stairs to the sweeping expanse of sand that made up the elbow of Cape Cod. Behind them was the huge white beacon at Coast Guard Station Chatham. Small-craft warning flags flew under the light, and the gusty wind gave the sand the appearance of having been swept by a broom. Since no one else was crazy enough to brave the elements that day, they had the beach to themselves.

  “Should you be exerting yourself like this?” Brandon asked when they had walked into the wind for a few minutes.

  “I’m fine.” Dennis’s warm breath came out like a cloud in the cold air.

  “Is this some kind of character-building exercise we’re undertaking here?”

  Dennis laughed. “Something like that. I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

  “About?”

  “Work.”

  “Listen, Da, I know you’re mad about the thing with the gravel, and I’m going to apologize to Lewis and Simms.”

  “Good, but that’s not was I was going to say.” Dennis stopped walking.

  Brandon came to a halt, turned his back to the wind, and as he waited for his father to continue, a chill went through him that he couldn’t blame entirely on the cold.

  “I’ve decided to retire.”

  Brandon smiled. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “But you always said we’d have to carry you out of there in a pine box,” Brandon said, stunned.

  “You almost got to.”

  “You’re exaggerating, Da. You had a mild heart attack.”

  “It was a warning. Besides, it’s time. Mum wants to do some traveling, and if I don’t go with her, who’ll keep her out of trouble?”

  “That’s a good point. So why’d you bring me out here to the tundra to tell me this?”

  “Because I’ve put Colin in charge.”

  Raw fury streaked through Brandon, but he kept his expression neutral.

  “I wanted you to hear it from me,” Dennis continued. “I’ve made my decision, and I’m asking you to respect it.”

  Brandon rubbed a gloved hand against the stubble on his jaw. “Christ, I go away for a month, and now I’m working for my little brother?”

  “You’re going to have to find a way to deal with this, Brand. He’s worked for the company the longest, and he’s earned this opportunity.”

  “He’s worked for the company the longest because he refused to go to college, something you made the rest of us do!” Brandon fumed. “How’s that fair?”

  “Do you honestly think you’d be able to run a business right now? With everything else you’ve got on your plate?”

  “Maybe not right this minute, but hell, I would’ve liked the chance to try it.”

  “The men wouldn’t work for you, Brandon. Not the way you’ve been the last couple of years. I had a lot of things to consider, and that was definitely one of them.”

  “I’m not taking orders from Colin, Da. No way.”

  “Then maybe you should think about getting another job,” Dennis said with steel in his gentle blue eyes.

  “Are you serious? I’ve given that company sixteen years
of my life! There were other things I wanted to do, but I came back here and did exactly what you expected of me. You can’t just push me aside!” The words were out of his mouth before Brandon could stop them. He hadn’t planned on having this conversation today or pictured it coming out quite the way it had. The stricken look on his father’s face told Brandon the words had cut him to the quick.