The Lush and the Angel (New Hampshire Bears Book 10)

by Mary Smith

  I laugh. A real one. When was the last time I laughed? “I was shit.”

  She giggles. “How come?”

  “I didn’t know how to skate well. I’d only tried a couple of times before but nothing serious. Mainly, fucking off. However, my friends taught me and soon…it was like I was meant to be there. On the ice with a stick in my hand.” I almost choke up thinking about the memory. It’s the only time in my life I felt I had a purpose.

  Even to this day.

  “Do your brothers play hockey?”

  I shake my head. I’m certain she knows who my brothers are, but I’ll play along with her game. “Beck plays American football and Bax plays baseball.”

  “Are you close to them?”

  ”No.”

  “Were you ever close to them?”

  “At one point.” I confess.

  “When did it change?”

  I seal my mouth tight. There’s no way I’m going to tell her the truth in this manner. If I tell her it’s because I like to drink every now and then, she’ll assume the worst. Just like everyone else does. “We just grew apart.” It’s not a complete lie.

  “When did you first try alcohol?”

  My eyes widen. Here it comes. The real reason I’m here. This is my test and I have to pass. I know it. She knows it. Everyone knows it. I quickly think about how to approach this and which way I can get out of it. “I was a…teenager.”

  “That’s not uncommon for young teens to experiment with alcohol. Even do drugs? Or try any?”

  “No,” I say firmly. “I never wanted it to affect my game.”

  “Understand.” She agrees. “When was the first time you were drunk?”

  Could I even remember that far back? “I was sixteen or so.” I think? Or was I fourteen? It has been a long time.

  “Do you black out?”

  I nod without even thinking.

  “What do you think about when you drink?”

  I shrug. “Nothing. I just sit home, watch TV, have a few drinks and go to bed.” Not a complete lie. I leave out my long list of failures.

  “When was the last time you blacked out?”

  “Long time ago.” Liar.

  Caryn looks at me for a brief second before standing and going over to her desk. She brings a card over to me. “Our time is up for today, but I’m giving you some homework.”

  I chuckle. “Are you taking a piss? Um…I mean, are you serious?”

  She smiles at me again. “I know what you meant and yes, I am being serious. I want you to write down everything you do from the time you leave here until the time you come back tomorrow morning. Everything you eat, drink, who you talk to, all of it.”

  “Why?” I study the card. It’s an appointment time of eight in the morning.

  “Because I want to see what you’re doing since you’re on your medical leave.”

  I glance between her and the card and wonder what her game is. She can’t do this to all her clients. Or maybe she does? Maybe this is a way for the Bears to keep tabs on me? Maybe it’s my brothers sticking their fucking noses where they don’t belong?

  “Fine.” I give in, standing up and heading out of her office.

  Sitting at my dinner table, I stare at the blank piece of paper for—what feels like—an eternity. I grip the vodka bottle tightly trying to figure out a way to do this without telling the truth.

  When did I become this person?

  The question hits me hard and out of nowhere.

  Would my parents be proud?

  I scoff at the blank piece of paper. Absolutely not. I’m a screw-up. I’m shit. I’m…nothing.

  “Let’s get this over with.” I grumble and jot down what the average American would do.

  4:00 pm - workout

  6:00 pm - ate dinner. takeaway of Thai food

  7:00 pm - watched Netflix

  11:00 pm - watched news

  12:00 am - went to bed.

  7:00 am - woke up

  8:00 am - appointment with Caryn

  I feel proud of myself as I glance down at the list. It seems like something I would really do. I pick up my bottle and go to the couch, turn on PHL News and drift in and out of sleep while watching TV.

  Bang. Bang.

  I leap up from my position and scan the room.

  Bang. Bang.

  I grab the sides of my head and walk toward the door. The sound of the pounding is matching the beat in my head. What the hell time is it? I open the door and no one is there. The hallway is completely black. Where are the lights? I look to my left, then to the right and there’s nothing. It’s darker than dark.

  I take a step over the threshold and head toward Erin’s door, holding my hands out to feel my way but there’s no door. No wall.

  Nothing.

  A wave of panic fills me when I hear a distant cry. Someone is saying my name. It almost sounds like…my mother.

  “Bas. Bas, where are you?” Her voice comes closer. “Bas.”

  “Mum.” I whip around trying to find a slit of light to lead me toward her or figure out where I am. “Mum!” I yell.

  A soft glow appears in front of me. It seems miles away. I reach out with my hand but can’t touch it.

  “Bas, why are you behaving this way?”

  “Dad?” His baritone voice fills my senses. I remember how his voice always brought me comfort.

  “Why are you acting like some fool?”

  Suddenly, I feel like a child being scolded. Well, I am being scolded. “Dad, I’m fine.”

  “Bas.” Mum’s angel-like tone causes my eyes to burn with tears. “You’re not okay. You need help.”

  “I have it under control.”

  “No, my son, you don’t have anything under control,” Dad says. “You need to listen to Caryn and do as she says. Listen to us. You need help.”

  “I killed you.” The tears roll down my cheeks.

  “No, you did not.”

  I can almost feel Mum holding me. It’s a comfort I’ve not felt since they left me.

  “I want to make you proud.” I sniff.

  “Then listen to Caryn and get help.”

  “Bas! Bas!”

  Someone is shaking me and I peel open my eyes to see Erin looking down at me. “What are you doing here? Where are my parents?”

  Her eyes widen. “Your parents?”

  “They were here.” I search around and finally realize…I’m on the floor of my apartment. “What’s going on?” I’m more confused than ever. My parents were just here. I felt my mum’s arms. I heard my dad’s voice.

  “No one is here. I heard you screaming and when I came in you were on the floor, thrashing around.” Erin explains.

  I sit up and make my eyes focus on my surroundings. I’m still in my apartment. Everything still appears to be the same. But my parents aren’t here.

  “Hey.” Erin runs her hand through my hair. “Tell me what you saw.” Her voice is soft, soothing.

  “It sounds crazy.” My mouth is dry, and my tongue feels heavy.

  “It won’t to me. I promise.”

  I know if I told her the truth she won’t think I’m crazy. She is the one person in this world I actually trust. “My parents came to me.”

  “What did they say?” She continues to stroke my hair. I want to rest my head on her chest, but I keep control of my impulses.

  I remember every word they said, but I can’t repeat it to Erin. Am I losing my mind? Is it a hallucination? Or is it all a dream? “Nothing. I can’t remember.” I lie to her. Erin. The one person who means anything to me...I lied to.

  “How about you come over to my place and I will fix dinner?” She’s still stroking my hair.

  “Sure.” I love when she cooks.

  Together we stand. My head hurts a bit, and it’s then I realize my cheeks are wet. I’d been crying. I can’t even remember the last time I cried.

  Walking into Erin’s apartment I feel…I can’t explain what it feels like…just safe. I sit at the bre
akfast bar and glance around as she begins to move through the kitchen.

  “Working hard?” Her living room has papers strewn about. All her computer screens have what she calls coding on them. Nothing I understand. I can barely use my mobile.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you working on? Wasn’t it with some high techy person?” The name escapes me, but I know it was a big deal to Erin.

  “I’m working on a project with Victoria Denton.” She chops up some broccoli. “We’re close to finishing it.”

  “Right.” I turn back to watch her. Her movements are fluid as she moves about the kitchen. It reminds me of a figure skater. Each motion is like a calculated, soft wave.

  She’s beautiful.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing okay. I’m sure you heard I’ve been kicked off the team.”

  “I heard it was a medical leave.”

  “Same difference.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sigh. “It’s because of my fucking brothers, but I have a plan in motion to get back on the team.”

  She tosses the veggies into the pan and the sizzle tickles my ears. “What’s your plan? Are you getting help?”

  Do I tell her about Caryn? “Sort of.”

  She faces me. “Sort of?”

  “Oliver is forcing me to go to a therapist.” I tell her everything else. This shouldn’t be any different.

  “Is it helping?” She goes back to the food.

  “I don’t know. I have to write down everything I do all day and I can’t say I’m fine.”

  Erin giggles and turns back to me. “That is your motto, is it not?”

  I smirk at her joke. “I guess.”

  “Come on, Bas. I know it’s going to be hard for you to get sober, but it’s going to be the best thing. I promise.”

  “I don’t have a drinking problem.” My anger builds up quick from her words. “I have everything under control, and I wish people understood that.”

  “Why are you lying to me?” She crosses her arms, popping her hip out a bit. “I’m the one person who knows the truth about you and I see it every day. Just because we’ve not talked for a while doesn’t mean I can’t smell the alcohol from your apartment.”

  I look away from her. I stare at the pan, and the soft smoke and steam coming up from it. I’m not going to say anything because she’s right but admitting it won’t happen.

  “Bas, listen to this therapist. I’m certain she can help you since Oliver sent you there.”

  “That’s what my parents said.” I drop my head into my hands.

  “What?”

  “My dream or vision, or whatever the hell it was, was with my parents. They told me to listen to Caryn.”

  Erin pulls on my wrists and makes me move my hands from my face. “Look at me, Bas.”

  I raise my eyes to match hers. Her soft smile is welcoming and like her apartment, it makes me feel safe.

  “There are a lot of things I can’t explain in life and thereafter. However, I fully believe your parents came to you for a reason. You need to listen to this lady and get well. It’s all I want. It’s all your brothers want. It’s all the Bears and your fans want. But you need to realize how much alcohol you drink and admit you’re an alcoholic.”

  I jerk my body away from her words and tone. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I can handle my drinking—I’m not an alcoholic.”

  Before she can say another word, I storm off to my apartment, slamming the door behind me. Who does she think she is telling me what I am and am not?

  The bottle I had been drinking from before I fell asleep is laying on the floor, its contents slightly spilled out onto the floor. I pick it up, flop down on the couch, and go back to watching the PHL channel.

  I don’t care who she is, I’m not talking to her ever again.

  “A field trip?”

  Caryn has a trench coat on with her purse over her shoulder. “Yes. Come with me. I’m driving.”

  “Um…” I’m unclear what’s happening. “Don’t you want my list from last night?” I pull it out of my jeans pocket.

  “Keep it for now. Come on, I don’t like being late.” She strolls past me and out of her office.

  It takes me a second to realize I need to follow her and rush to catch up. Even though she’s wearing high heels, she’s a fast walker. “Where are we going?”

  “A field trip,” she simply answers as we head toward her vehicle.

  We don’t speak in the car as she drives through downtown Manchester until we reach a—church? She’s taking me to a church?

  “Caryn, I’m not religious.”

  “We aren’t here for church, Bas. We’re here for something else.” She shuts off the car and gets out, then speed walks toward the front door.

  “What are we here for?” I chase her. I’m able to catch up to her as she enters a side door of the church and goes down a flight of stairs.

  I stand at the top for a moment, still unsure of what I should do. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know what’s going to happen if I go down these stairs. I’m certain Caryn wouldn’t put me in danger, and I can handle myself pretty well. I’ve been in a few kick offs in my days and came out of it with little bruising or scrapes.

  Making my way down the stairs, I’m overwhelmed by the smell of coffee and a sugary smell. Almost like…donuts?

  Reaching the bottom step, I see a long table with two coffee pots and a couple dozen donuts. Several men are standing near or around the table. There are about ten metal fold-up chairs arranged in a circle. Caryn shrugs off her jacket, placing it on the back of the chair before taking a seat. She points to a chair to the left of hers and nods for me to sit down. I do as I’m told.

  “Guys, let’s get started.” Caryn announces and the men come over quickly, taking seats in the circle. “As I told you last week, I was bringing someone to observe and this is him.” She smiles at me. “He’s just here to listen and not say anything. If anyone is uncomfortable with this, please let me know and I can send him away for the duration.”

  No one says anything. A couple of guys eye me for a few seconds, but again, nothing is said.

  “Great. As you all should know already, I’m Caryn. I’m a licensed therapist and psychotherapist here in the great state of New Hampshire. I specialize in PTSD and addictions, among a few other fields. Who wants to start today?”

  The guys begin to shift in their seats—some look to their coffee cups or to the floor. It’s quiet and you can almost feel the tension building.

  “I’ll go.” One male raises his hand slightly. He looks to be in his mid to late forties with bloodshot eyes and disheveled appearance. He clears his throat before saying, “Hi, I’m Jake, and I’m an alcoholic.”

  “Hi, Jake,” the room says in unison.

  My stomach drops as my heart leaps into my throat. I’m at an AA meeting.

  “I’ve not touched a bottle of alcohol in forty-two days.”

  A soft round of claps fills the room, but my attention is locked on Jake.

  “Even though I want to—badly. My court hearing is on Tuesday, and I’m not sure if I can make it without a drink. But I’m trying.” He roughly wipes his shaky hand on his dirty jeans. “I’ve been living with a friend since my wife kicked me out. I’m trying to stay on the straight and narrow, but it’s hard. I miss my wife, my kids, and my home. The home I built for them. For us.” His voice catches. “That whole night is just a blur to me, but I remember I couldn’t stop drinking. I had to keep drinking. My wife reached for the bottle and that was when I…”

  He trails off, and I watch tears stream down his cheeks.

  “I hit her. Twenty years of marriage I never raised a hand to her or the kids, but that night…” He roughly wipes his cheeks. “I don’t know what happened. I just had to keep drinking.”

  “What happened before you started drinking on that particular day?” Caryn asks. I didn’t think you were allowed
to ask questions at AA meetings.

  “I was at work and my boss is a real fucking asshole.” He shook his head. “He kept piling more and more shit on my desk, and I knew I couldn’t get it all done in the time he wanted me to. I told him, but he didn’t fucking listen.”

  “When you got home, you started drinking right away?” Caryn continues with her questioning.

  “Yep. I dropped my coat and briefcase on the floor and went straight to the wet bar.” He sniffs. “I didn’t even say hello to my kids.”

  “When did you realize you were an alcoholic?”

  “The moment I woke up in that jail cell, and I lost everything. I hit rock bottom. No one was going to be able to save me but…me.” He softly sobs. “I’m working on getting better for my wife and my kids. I know this court hearing is going to be rough because I hurt a lot of people I love, but I’m willing to take my punishment and get better.” He gives Caryn an encouraging smile and the man next to him grasps his shoulder, squeezing it.

  “Great job, Jake. Stay strong.” She keeps the smile on her face. “Anyone else like to speak?”

  “I would.” The oldest looking gentleman raises his hands. “Hello, I’m Bob.”

  “Hi, Bob,” everyone says together.

  “I’ve not touched a drop of alcohol in six years.”

  The room claps for his accomplishment.

  “But today is especially hard for me. Today my baby girl has been gone for ten years.”

  A deep silence fills the room as he begins his story.

  “She was three when they found the cancer. It’s something no parent wants to hear from a doctor. Your only hope and wish is to have happy and healthy children. You never want anything bad to happen to them.” He pauses, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. “She fought hard for two years. She would always tell me it was going to be okay.” He slightly scoffs. “My baby would comfort me.”

  I feel the overwhelming urge to cry for this man’s pain. I can’t imagine what he’s been through.

  “Right after her funeral was the first time I really got drunk. I had drinks in the past and was a little wild in my younger years, but her funeral was when I needed to dull the pain. And I didn’t stop…until…”