by Lisa Smartt
*I’m sad I won’t be here when you get home.
*I think you’re a good dad. An excellent dad.
*You will recover.
*When you recover, you’ll be able to help others in a more powerful way. You helped them before but not from this angle. Not from the inside. It’s a unique place.
*God will get you through the next 30 days. Even the hardest parts. I’ve been through some bad stuff lately. It was of my own doing. But I’m not undone. I’m healing.
*I never loved Blake Blanton. I thought I did. I thought he loved me. He didn’t.
*Regret is not the same as paralysis.
*Collin will be fine. He’ll never even remember you went to rehab.
*Every man struggles. Only real men seek help.
*Shannon would be proud of you. I promise.
*I’m proud of you.
*I miss you already.
*Thanks again for taking care of me in Parkers Crossroads. I’ll never forget it.
*You’re a pretty good brawler, when you have to be. That should be a help for the next 30 days ‘cause God knows it will be a fight.
*Write when you can.
*Don’t give up.
Love, Ashley
I lay on the bed and wished I’d never taken that first drink after Shannon died. It made sense at the time. Couldn’t sleep. Overcome with grief. Just drown it a little. Everyone would understand. And they did. But now the grief had subsided. Some at least. And I was still drinking excessively. Still drowning something. And all that drowning had brought me here. A grown man lying on a hard dormitory bed like a college freshman. Dying for a drink I can’t have. Wanting a woman I can never have again. And desperately wanting Ashley.
Chapter 34 CARLIE: Home Sweet Hollywood
The studios discouraged Ashley from flying commercial. Too much paparazzi nonsense. But she thought private jets were ungodly so she hired temporary bodyguards to fly with her and escort her through the airports. She always requested older men so there’d be no complications. We were to meet her bodyguard right near the curb outside baggage claim where I would drop her off and into the hands of an experienced professional. The company had sent a picture, a profile, and complete description so there’d be no confusion. We also knew to request ID and verification as Ashley couldn’t be too careful. We arrived early so we sat in the car while she put on large wrap-around sunglasses and pulled her ponytail through the back of a baseball cap which would help hide her identity.
“So, when will we see you again?”
“I don’t know really. They think my part can be shot in less than three months. We’ll be in San Diego the whole time. That’ll make it easier. Probably even get to go home a few times.”
“What do you think about the script?”
“Truthfully? It stinks.”
“Well, don’t hold back now.”
She laughed as she applied cherry lip balm. “Well, you asked. I mean, I’m sure it’s some people’s cup of tea. But me? I just like a different kind of story. People. Relationships. Family. This has a lot of explosions and tension and action. But hey, it could be a box office hit. No doubt this kind of movie strikes a chord with some people. With a lot of people, actually.”
“Well, I just might have to hop a plane and come to San Diego to meet Jean-Claude Van Damme myself.”
“You should.”
An older man dressed in khaki pants and a navy blazer approached the truck. Just as the picture described. Ashley rolled down the window, checked his ID, and introduced herself. As the bodyguard pulled her suitcase from the back, I came around and gave her a big hug. She laughed as I handed her the old tin of cookies from Aunt Charlotte. “Don’t think I’m lettin’ you get away without these, sister. Eat! Eat!”
“I’m gonna miss you, Carlie.”
“I’m gonna miss you too. Listen, don’t let the paparazzi get to ya, a’right? It’s okay to be a movie star, but don’t forget Ashley. Ashley from Alabama.”
She hugged me tighter. “I won’t. I promise.”
And then she was gone.
Chapter 35 DAVE: The Problem with Detox…is Detox
Day 4
“My name is Dave. I’m an alcoholic. But I’m more than that too. A dad. A widower. I’m here because I need to stop drinking. I don’t know if I want to stop drinking. I don’t even think it matters if I want to. We don’t ask people if they want to go to work every day. They go to work every day because they need to. They need a job. For the next month, this is my job. God knows I need to stop drinking. And I hope this group, that you can help me with that.”
A young man wearing jeans and a leather jacket said, “Well said, Dave. And yes, we can help you. We will help you.”
A chubby older woman wearing a green double-knit pant suit said, “You’re awfully articulate, Dave. Handsome too. You look a lot like my late husband, William. God rest his soul.”
Sherry said, “Okay, Mildred. Let’s leave the pick-up lines for lunch time, yes?” The group of ten laughed. “Would anyone like to share their story with Dave?”
A beautiful blonde woman in her mid-30’s piped up. “My name is Denise. I had a blessed life. And I want to believe I can and will have a blessed life again. Five years ago I had it all. My husband was a podiatrist with a thriving practice. Both kids were doing well. The American dream, y’know. The dog. The everything. Then one day he left. He just packed up a suitcase and left.” She grabbed a Kleenex and dabbed her eyes. “Evidently he found the new hospital administrator more fascinating than the mother of his own children. So he just left. With her. I had no idea we even had any problems. Until he was gone. But at that moment, I should have stood up and been strong for my kids, y’know?” Her voice cracked. “They desperately needed me. I should have rallied. But I didn’t. I drank. I drank at night thinking the bed would be less lonely. I drank in the morning thinking the day would be less intimidating.” She chuckled through her tears, “And guess what? Yeah. It didn’t work. But I’m here. I’m thriving. I’m getting help.”
Sherry said, “Thank you, Denise. Thank you.”
The group session lasted a few hours and I was surprised at the level of openness. I was also moved by the stories and the heartfelt responses to Sherry’s questions.
At lunch time, Denise sat down across from me. “So how’s been the first day of therapy?”
“Interesting. My head still hurts. But not constantly. And they said that’s normal.”
“We haven’t scared you away yet, huh?”
“I don’t run easy.”
“Yeah. You don’t look like the type who would.”
Sherry approached our table. “Dave, can I see you in Dr. Wright’s office for a few minutes?”
“Sure. Absolutely. Let me just take my tray.”
Dr. Wright’s office was decorated as poorly as my room. I sat in a lemon yellow vinyl swivel chair and wondered if he had inherited all of this from his uncle, the deceased dentist. Dr. Wright spoke a greeting but then was called away. Sherry sat in the chair across from me. “Dave, I’m sorry but we need to change your small group. We should have anticipated this. We strongly discourage any romantic entanglements and it’s probably best that you be placed in a male only group.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not here for any romantic interests. Trust me.”
Sherry spoke quietly, “Oh, we understand. But there are those a little more vulnerable and they probably need to concentrate on recovery. Your presence may make that recovery a little more difficult.”
“Uh, oh, well, yeah, I’m fine with that.”
Afternoon group therapy found me in an outdoor patio area with ten men. Five of them old enough to be my father. And the other four my age or younger. The group was led by an older balding man named Sid who cussed like a sailor but seemed to know a lot about addiction…and surprisingly, about me.
After the group dissolved, Sid and I took a walk on a concrete trail that led through the woods. There
was fencing on all sides of the property but the back area was big enough to explore without feeling closed in. I soon realized the walk with Sid was probably protocol for all the new guys.
He lit a cigarette without bothering to ask if I was allergic to smoke. “Have you called anyone back home yet? I mean, they told you you can use the lobby phone in the evenings, right?”
“Yeah. But no, I haven’t called anyone yet. I’m just four days in, right?” I paused and let out a long breath. “Plus, there’s not really anybody. At home. I mean, my son is there. He’s awesome but he’s only three. My best friends are bringing him here on Sunday afternoon and I can’t wait. But he’s not much of a phone talker, y’know. And I don’t know. For some reason, I can’t seem to get up the courage to call friends. Kind of like calling from prison. I don’t want all the sympathy, I guess.”
“Yeah. Just be glad you’ve got someone. A lot of people walk through these doors and all their bridges have been burned. Killed off every damn relationship they ever had. Drunk men have a way of doing that you know. You’re a lucky man if that’s not you.”
“I do have good friends. And yeah, I’m blessed. I guess. But it’s not like it’s all been easy. My wife died more than a year ago. I miss her every day. Alcohol didn’t take her place. But I’ll be honest enough to say…well, it deadened the agony a little.”
He patted me on the back. “Oh, hell yeah. It’ll kill some of the pain alright. No doubt. But then it brings its own pain. That’s the problem with me and you. We’re chicken. We don’t wanna hurt.” He paused as we turned the corner near a grove of trees. “But ain’t no way to get outta hurtin’. Not really. What happened to your wife?”
Watching the cigarette smoke billow in a cloud in front of Sid’s face, I quietly said, “I killed her.”
Sid never flinched. He took a long drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke out in a hard breath. He chuckled, “Nah, I figure that’s not the way it was or you’d be in prison. Not that this place can’t feel like a prison ‘cause I’ll be the first to say it does sometimes. What really happened, son?”
“I wrecked the car. Coming home from a concert in Nashville. We lived in Chattanooga. It was late. She was probably dead before we even got to the hospital. They tried to revive her though. Y’know. I held out hope she was gonna recover. Our son had just turned two.” Watching Sid smoke made me want a cigarette for the first time in my life. I’d never even been a smoker. It was crazy stupid. Guess I really am an addict.
“And who’s your kid staying with now?”
“With my best friends. My wife’s cousin.”
Sid and I talked for almost an hour. It wasn’t listed as therapy time but it was the best therapy I’d had. He was a straight shooter and something about that was comforting. He was like an Aunt Charlotte with a carton of Marlboros.
When I went back to my room, there were two letters in the little manila folder hanging on my door. No e-mails or electronic messages were allowed so anyone who wanted to make contact with me had to use the old-fashioned method. The one in the small blue envelope was a short note from Carlie with a picture of Collin happily playing on the new swing set in Dusty and Clara’s backyard. I was happy to see Collin but for some reason, the picture made me terribly jealous of Dusty. He was turning out to be the hero. The swing set builder. The husband. The father of three. The worker. The chemically-free good guy who rides all over town on a white horse. And of course, then I felt bad about being jealous of such a good friend. A guy who had been through hell and back. A guy who’d work all day at a mechanic shop and then drive six hours round trip to take a friend to rehab… and be glad for the privilege. Dusty isn’t trying to be a hero. He just is one. Rather than be jealous of him, I determined to be more like him.
The other was a large ivory envelope. When I saw that it was Ashley’s handwriting on the outside, I could feel my face get warmer. The outside of the card had a picture of a big grizzly bear standing up on only two legs. The inside of the card said, “Sometimes life’s a bear. Just know I’m in your corner.”
Dear Dave,
Doug told me that e-mail was not allowed so I guess you’ll have to muddle through my less than stellar handwriting. I’m at home in California now. Spent a few days at Mom and Dad’s house. No. I didn’t tell them. I’m not saying I’ll never tell them. I’m just saying I didn’t on this trip. I didn’t understand what the point would be, I guess. Why disappoint them so terribly for what now seems like no reason? I don’t know. Several times I started to say something but chickened out. They did ask if Blake Blanton was a good guy. I said he was alright. Now I feel bad because that’s not true at all.
But enough about me. How are you? I hope your time there is fruitful and not too painful. I guess pain is part of living but I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’ve heard people say the detox part of rehab is the most miserable and by the time you get this letter, you will be finished with that. I’m glad.
I’m sure you’ve met some interesting people. I’ll be leaving for San Diego on Thursday. I don’t feel ready to start another project. But I don’t have a good enough excuse to stay home and do nothing. My neighbor, Ms. Bonnie, tried to give me a beautiful little kitten this week. Her cat had a littler full of little orange kittens. There was this one little tiny one, so cute and for some reason, I really wanted it. But I had to tell her I’m not home enough to have a pet. Something about that conversation made me sad. We always had pets growing up because, well, we were always home. That’s what home meant. The place where you slept and ate. Dad and Mom worked at the grocery a lot of hours. But at night, every night, we knew where they’d be. With us. I can’t even commit to a kitten. It made me realize my parents are the real grown-ups.
Carlie said Sunday afternoons are visitation days. I know you’re excited about seeing Collin. He’s such a great kid.
Well, that’s all the news from California. I know you’re busy but please write when you can. All my mail is being forwarded. Hang in there, Dave. His mercies are new every morning.
Ashley
Ashley,
Now that you’ve seen my handwriting, you will never feel bad about yours again. Thanks for writing. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve read your card several times as well as the letter in my suitcase. Wise words. Thank you.
Yes, detox was more harrowing than I could have imagined. But you’re right. It’s done. The idea of taking recovery one day at a time is hard for me because I’m a planner. I like clocks and schedules and spread sheets. I like to believe I can map out the future. Research says only 7 of 100 people who seek recovery find long-lasting sobriety. I try not to think about that.
The people here have been helpful. Sid is my group leader. Whatever mental picture you get when you think of the term “rehab group leader” he’s not that. He’s flawed and foul-mouthed. But he helps me or he has so far. I know we still have a long way to go.
Yes, I can hardly wait to see Collin. But I worry about what’s going to happen when he leaves. Will he be able to handle that? Will I? These are the thoughts of a planner, I guess. No matter how it ends, I still want to see him. He has taught me so much. Collin is helpless, unable to take care of himself. Theoretically, he makes no real contribution to my life. I mean, not financially or practically. But he’s my son. There’s no describing that kind of love with words. So I will not attempt it.
I hope you enjoy making the new movie. Jean-Claude Van Damme is fortunate to get to work with such a talent. You can tell him I said that. Oh, and yes, I understand why you didn’t tell your parents. Why should you make them sad if you don’t have to? I believe you will tell them someday when some of the wounds have healed. And you’re right. They will heal.
I wish you were here, Ashley. I miss you.
Dave
Chapter 36 CARLIE: Good Will Hunting
Aunt Charlotte’s words rang out for all to hear. “Every one of you young’uns needs to come give Aunt Carlie and me a big hug!” As we walked in the door
of Dusty and Clara’s house, James yelled out, “Will! Mow-ee! Mandy!” Doug had a dinner meeting with some farmers that was sure to go late. Aunt Charlotte and I decided to take the kids over for a short after-supper visit with Dusty and Clara.
Mandy came running up to hug us both, “Guess what, Aunt Carlie? Guess what?”
“Do tell!”
“We’re having a baby. A real live baby. Daddy said so!”
“He did, did he? A baby? Wow! That’ll be great. And I bet you’ll be a big help too.”
She never missed a beat, “I know how to take care of babies. I work in the church nursery sometimes with Mama.”
“Yes, well then, you will be a big help!”
Mandy’s excitement paled in comparison to Will’s obvious sadness. He and Dusty were busy building a fire in the fireplace but he looked like a kid whose lunch money had been stolen on the playground.
“Hey! Will, looks like you and Dad are getting a fire going.”
He never looked up from the small pile of wood on the floor. “Yeah.”
Dusty spoke with a chuckle as he patted Will on the back, “It’s good to have another man around here, Carlie. Don’t know what I’d do without this guy right here.”
Will smiled but it was less than genuine.
I reached out to hug him despite his lack of enthusiasm. “Oh, I bet. I know he’s a pretty sharp kid in my book.”
Aunt Charlotte made a loud and enthusiastic declaration, “All these here young’uns are finer than a frog hair. I’m proud to call ‘em family. Real proud.”
Clara came walking down the hall. She was starting to show a little now and she beamed, “I guess they’ve told you all the news!”
“Well yeah, sounds like everybody’s on board about this baby on the way. Oh, and having all this help will make it a whole lot easier on you,” I said with a wink and a grin.
