Escaping the Edge

by H. M. Sholander

  I throw the full trash bag into the garbage can in the garage. For safe measures, I give my mom and dad two more beers each and leave a full bottle of liquor on the coffee table.

  I escape to my room where I lock the door and pray they don’t yell for me again. I slide into bed beneath my purple comforter and dream of a different life.

  Remembering my childhood makes me wonder how I could’ve chosen the same life as them. Well, my life isn’t exactly the same, but if I don’t stay sober, there’s no telling how much worse things could get. I would never want my future children to go without or feel like they’re unwanted. I want to be the opposite of my parents. I want to have a life filled with adventure. I want to have happy memories with a man I love and bring a child into the world who will only ever feel loved.

  This time I’m not going back. I’m making a decision to only move forward from this point on. I will not wallow over my past. I will not succumb to my addiction. I will leave everything negative behind me and take with me the experiences my past has provided me. This time I’m going to do it. I smile at the realization that I’m ready to let go of all the anger and negativity. It’s true what they say. You can’t change someone. They have to be willing to change themselves.

  I stand up and clean my hands on my butt, wiping off all the dirt and grass. I take one last glance at the inspiring mountainous view in front of me, and take a deep breath. With one foot in front of the other, I walk away from my past, leaving it in the dust.

  EIGHTEEN

  With the withdrawal symptoms gone, I make my way to my first meeting since my downward spiral. I don’t sit in the dark corner like the first time I was here. I find a chair front and center. The chairs are arranged in a circle, so I’m not really front and center. But, I’m as close as I can be. I sit on the cold metal chair and watch as the people file into the room. I bite my nails, waiting anxiously for the meeting to start.

  I never did learn anyone’s name or become friends with anyone here besides Ryan. I don’t necessarily feel bad about that fact, but it will make coming to these meetings easier if I have someone to talk to.

  There was no way in hell I was going to ask Ryan to come with me or even see if he was coming tonight. I still haven’t talked to him since that night he left my apartment. The night I destroyed him.

  “Hey, there.”

  “Oh, crap.” I jump.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No problem, Rachel. I was just thinking.”

  “We haven’t seen you here in a while,” she says, probing for information.

  “Yeah, I had some stuff going on, but I’m back.” I weakly smile, hoping this tidbit can curb her curiosity if only for a little bit.

  “Whatever happened, just know everyone in this room is here for you,” she says knowingly.

  Of course, she knows what happened. Everyone here is an addict. When you don’t show up to meetings for an extended period of time, there's only one conclusion. You succumbed to your addiction. The good thing is that the people in this room will never judge me or look down on me. They know how it feels to be in my shoes. They know exactly what I’m going through.

  “Good evening, everyone. I’m happy to see all of your faces here today. To all of our newcomers, we're glad to have you with us. To those of you haven’t been here in a while, welcome back.” She discreetly glances down at me. “We welcome you all and want nothing more than to see each and everyone one of you succeed.”

  I tune out while Rachel gives the rest of her spiel. She can sometimes get caught up in talking at the beginning of the meetings, but I don’t blame her. She wants to make everyone feel as comfortable as possible. No one is forced into talking about their experiences, she simply asks that everyone introduce themselves.

  I never did notice if Ryan walked while I was talking to Rachel. With the lights off, it makes it hard to see anyone, which I truly appreciate. I don’t want to see anyone’s face when I’m spilling my guts tonight. Because that's exactly what I plan to do.

  One after the other, people tell their stories. A guy named Paul stole drugs from a gang member. He ran from them for three months until they caught up with him. They beat the shit out of him, and he landed in a hospital. When he was released, he turned his life around.

  A woman named Holly spent a whole day with her daughter while she was high. They baked cookies together for Christmas, and when her daughter went to bed, she snuck out of the house to trade sex for drugs, leaving her daughter alone. Holly’s parents took her daughter from her until she sought the help she needed. She has been clean for four years and has a stronger bond with her daughter because of her struggles.

  Then it’s my turn.

  I’ve contemplated what I'd say for a while. I have to get this off my chest.

  “Hi, I’m Avery,” I say while picking at my nails.

  Yeah, I know terrible habit.

  “Hi, Avery,” the room says simultaneously.

  I sit up straight and gather all my courage. “I’ve had a problem with addiction for years. I never thought I had a problem until a year ago when my friends spoke up about my behavior. I was always working, and if I wasn’t working, I was drinking. I was drinking to the point that I would have to be carried home. I couldn’t walk much less form a sentence when I was drunk. I always thought I was a normal girl. Everyone my age drinks and parties, but I took it to another level.

  “I needed the alcohol. I needed it every day…as much as I needed air to breathe. When the alcohol wasn’t enough, I turned to drugs. They helped me to feel absolutely nothing. I was weightless and had no cares in the world. That’s the point in my life that I lost everything. My world flipped upside down.

  “I lost the love of my life. He walked away from me because I couldn’t walk away from my addiction. For several months, I drowned myself in alcohol and drugs. Losing him didn’t make me want to change it just made me fall even further. Then I lost him for real. He died in a car accident. The driver was drunk, and they killed him. I always thought it was ironic that a drunk driver killed him. It could have just as easily been me driving that car. The one who robbed him of his life. I always believed we would end up together if I could stop the drinking. If I could give up the addiction my body craved. With him gone, that was never going to happen. I would never be with him again.

  “There’s a month of my life I don’t remember after he died because I was drowning in alcohol and drugs. It made the hurt and pain disappear. Because of my addiction, my problem, I don’t remember his funeral. I don’t know who was there to honor his life. I don’t know if I gave a speech. I don’t even know if I was really there. I lost that because I didn’t want to feel anything. I was too absorbed in my own pain to realize other people around me were hurt. Not just because they lost him, but because they lost me, too.

  “So, I decided to come to a meeting. I wanted to be a better person for him. I was ready to change for him. I wanted to honor his memory and do the one thing he wanted from me…to get clean.

  “I had an amazing sponsor. One who helped me through the withdrawals, who helped me channel my energy in a positive way, and who was always there for me to talk to even when I couldn’t find the words to say. He never pushed me for more than I was ready to give him, even though I know he wanted to know everything. But I lost it. I threw everything down the drain. I saw a video from my ex, and I threw myself back into the alcohol and drugs. I wanted the pain to stop, and the only way I knew how to stop it was my addiction. It felt good to be numb. The thing is, though, when you’re numb, you hurt people. I hurt my sponsor, my best friend, and most importantly myself. I realized I had taken a huge step backwards in my life, and that's not what I want to do. I want to move forward and out of the past. I want to be the best version of myself.

  “Even though they aren’t here tonight, I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry to everyone I hurt while self-destructing. I’m committing to a permanent change that I know will be a daily
struggle no matter the amount of time that passes between the last time I had a drink or did a line. Today, I’m flying out of the past and into a new future.”

  They thank me for sharing and move on to the next person.

  My personal struggles have shaped me into the woman I am today. Eventually, I'll be the person I always saw myself becoming. Someone who anyone can look up to.

  After the meeting, everyone exits through the main door, heading outside to light up a cigarette. I'm one of the few people here who doesn’t smoke. It was never my thing, and I actually find it revolting. Not that the people who smoke are revolting but the taste. I found the taste to be bitter, and how the heck do people not choke on the smoke? I suppose it’s an acquired taste, but I’m glad that's one addiction I never picked up. The double-edged sword is it would have been better than the other addictions I developed. Go figure.

  “I’m glad you spoke today.” Rachel sits in the chair to my right. “You haven’t shared very much. How do you feel?”

  “Amazing.” I smile lightly. “I couldn’t be happier. Having my story out there is scary, but I can only hope it helps someone along the way. Maybe I can change someone’s life.”

  “I have no doubt you will, Avery. You will make a great sponsor. You just have to get through your own demons before you can help someone else conquer theirs. Keep your head up, and I’ll see you next time.”

  She smiles down at me when she stands from her chair and disappears out the front door to join everyone else outside in the cool night air.

  Standing from the uncomfortable metal chair, I stretch my stiff muscles. I raise my hands over my head, pulling my arms as high as possible, and stand on my tiptoes to work out all the kinks. After stretching every part of my body, I collect my purse and weave through the chairs strewn haphazardly around the room. Before the meeting, the chairs are organized but after having everyone move around the room, they tend to move out of their original spots.

  I’m almost out the door when I smack right into someone. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” I collect my purse that landed with a thud on the floor when I collided with the stranger.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Ryan’s voice jolts me upright leaving my purse, and its contents, strewn across the floor.

  “Oh, I…uh...what…I didn’t…sorry.” I’m at a loss for words, and I’m sure I look like an idiot fumbling over my words like a toddler.

  Ryan collects my purse and hands it to me, while I stand there like an idiot. What is wrong with me? Have I forgotten how to act like a normal human being?

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “So, how have you been?” He stares down at his black Converse and shoves his hands into his pockets. Much like the first time we met.

  “Good.” It’s partly the truth. I've been good lately, but I was a hot mess after he gave up on me.

  Is that what he did? Did he give up on me, or did I let him down too many times? I dragged his heart around on my sleeve with no consideration of him. We never had a relationship, but I knew how he felt about me. And I was beginning to feel it, too. I wasn’t in the right place to give him what he needed or wanted though. One day, he'll find the peace he needs in this life. I know it. He definitely doesn’t need me adding to his problems.

  “And you?” I question.

  “Pretty good,” he pauses while looking everywhere but at my face and lets out a loud sigh, “I heard what you said Avery. I’m proud of you. I’m glad you opened up.”

  Because I never opened up with you I think to myself.

  “If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’m only a call away.” With that, he leaves me alone in the quiet room, surrounded only by my thoughts.

  I royally screwed up. With Ryan, with my life, and with Grayson.

  I need to fix this. I need to fix everything.

  NINETEEN

  Buzzing sounds in my ears as the needle hits my skin over and over. Some people say the prick of the needle is the worst pain and others argue the noise is what bothers them the most as it reminds them of the dentist. Me though, I love it all. It’s a high I didn’t know I would enjoy. The needle brings a pleasurable pain that makes me feel alive.

  “What made you do this?” the bearded guy with dreads down his back questions as he sits behind me concentrating.

  “It’s a reminder,” I say with a slow smile.

  “Reminder of what?”

  “The person I was. Someone I lost. The person I will become.”

  He bobs his head and coughs lightly to clear his throat, but his voice is still rough when he speaks. “That’s a good reason.”

  I lean forward in the chair and get comfortable, as I know I’ll be here several hours enduring a pain that will serve as a reminder for the rest of my life.

  “What do you think?” the bearded guy asks when he’s done two hours later.

  “It’s perfect.”

  I admire the red sunflower that now sits on my right shoulder blade. It appears red and angry, but when it heals, it will be something beautiful. It reminds me of myself. I was angry when I lost Grayson, but now, I'm ready to grow into something more. Someone who has a life worth living.

  The sunflower is a deep red with a brown, almost black, center that the petals latch onto as a lifeline. Delicate green vines dance from the sunflower covered in beautiful green leaves. It’s simple but beautiful. One sunflower to remind me of the man who was my best friend. I'll always have a piece of him with me no matter where I go.

  The bearded guy covers my new tattoo with saran wrap. “In two hours, take this off and clean it with an antibacterial soap, pat it dry, and apply a light layer of non-fragrant lotion. Do this twice a day for the next week or two. When it starts to peel, don’t touch it. While it’s healing, don’t touch it. Pretty much, keep your grimy hands off until it's completely healed otherwise it’ll get infected.”

  He makes it sound as if my arm will fall off, but I know he wants to drill the point home that it can get infected if I don’t take care of it. “Will do.” I throw my shirt on before walking out to the register. I pay for my tattoo and leave the guy a hefty tip for the beautiful work of art.

  I drive back to my apartment with the windows down and my hair blowing in the wind while the sun beats down on me. I sing along with my iPod because, let’s be honest, the radio plays the same crap over and over again. I mean come on play something new. So instead, I listen to the music I love and have no problem hearing on repeat.

  Arriving home, I throw my purse on the floor and plop on the couch with an unexpected smile on my face. With my life turning around, I feel as if nothing can stop me. I’m on top of the world, but I know I have a long way to go. I haven’t even been clean for a month, but this time everything’s different. This time, I’m different.

  While relaxing on the couch, a loud bang causes me to jump. Yelling and shouting follows the bang, which causes me to run to the door to look through the peephole. I can’t see a damn thing, but the yelling echoes in the apartment stairwell.

  Opening the door, I peer through the crack. On the first floor, a man with salt and pepper hair shouts at someone hidden by the stairwell. The older man appears disheveled with a dirty white t-shirt and blue jeans with holes on his kneecaps. His white tennis shoes are stained with dirt and untied. He seems to be in his early seventies from the weathered look on his face.

  “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you. You’re not good for anything. Your mother was right to leave you behind. You’re a sorry piece of shit! Stay away from me,” the old man yells.

  I’m not sure who he’s directing his comments to, but I know they don’t deserve his hatred.

  The old man stumbles as he walks out of the apartment building and into the parking lot.

  I swipe my car keys off the kitchen counter and head outside. I don’t really need anything out of my car; I’m just being nosy. Plus, I feel I should check on whoever took the verbal abuse the old man handed ou
t.

  I swiftly move down the stairs and turn the corner to see Ryan sitting next to his apartment door with his hands hanging over his bent knees, head bowed low. I don’t see anyone else standing outside nor have I heard a door slam. I can only assume he’s the one the old man was beating with his words.

  I cautiously walk up to him. When he notices a shadow appear over him, he lifts his head slightly, and my heart breaks in half seeing the defeated look on his face. The pain he’s feeling is etched on his features.

  Neither of us say a word as I sit next to him and place my arm around his shoulder. I softly pull him into me and hold him as his body shakes underneath me. I run my hands through his hair and down his back, attempting to soothe him.

  At this point, I don’t know if I’m helping or making the situation worse, but I do know he needs someone. He needs someone to be there for him for a change. He’s always taking care of everyone else, and now, I’m returning the favor. I’m going to be there for him as much as he'll allow me before he pushes me away.

  We sit in the same spot until it's dark, and the streetlights illuminate the parking lot. I untangle myself from Ryan, and we both stand from the hard cement ground we’ve been sitting on for two hours.

  Grabbing his hand, I lead him through his front door. He makes himself comfortable on his couch while I grab both of us a bottle of water. I sit on the recliner after handing him the cold bottle. We drink in silence until the silence becomes too much for me.

  “I’m going to get going.” I stand from the recliner and take two steps before Ryan grabs my hand, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Please don’t go,” he pleads with bloodshot eyes.