Because that would be just my luck, adding mental illness to the mix of crap I’m facing.
No, she wasn’t going to go there. She was blowing all of this out of proportion. Just focus on right now. Right now, I need to calm down. Which is what she’d been trying to do for ten minutes, if the stupid vodka would ever start working.
She took another swallow, then another. For a brief moment she considered praying. But then she remembered what happened the last time—the silence, the way things didn’t get better—and realized her situation was bad enough without adding to it with even more expectations that didn’t get met.
She changed into her pajamas and slid beneath the covers. She didn’t want to think about anything else tonight.
o
Rachel didn’t know when she fell asleep, but when she woke up the next morning, her head was pounding. Feeling hung over, she staggered into the bathroom to get some aspirin, then to the kitchen to make a screwball. She remembered Daphne once telling her that fruit juice helped get rid of hangovers, and that a little alcohol would dull the pain. She took two tumblers of the concoction, then idly flipped through a magazine on the couch.
An hour passed before she felt any better, but after that she continued to improve, and by the time she was showered and dressed she felt almost normal. Still, her issues loomed large, and now that the pain in her head was receding, the rattle of her thoughts was getting louder. Her day had barely started and she was already wishing she could just go back to bed. She wanted to call in sick, but she was supposed to go over some new inventory software with Ruby, who was finally going on vacation.
She made a pot of coffee, hoping the caffeine would perk her up, and spiked her first two cups. Still, her mind wouldn’t stop churning. Her third cup, which she downed ten minutes before leaving for the café, was almost equal parts coffee and alcohol. If only the stuff would just work a little better she wouldn’t need so much.
She walked slowly to work, feeling exhausted. She was barely walking a straight line, and her vision seemed to take half a second to catch up when she moved her head. She was not looking forward to a day spent like this.
“Hey, Rachel,” Leah said when she walked in, then gave her a funny look. “You feel all right? You look like you’re sick.”
“You know,” she said, the words coming slowly from a mouth that didn’t feel like it was working right, “I thought it was just that I didn’t sleep well last night, but yeah, I think I might be getting sick.”
“I saw Cole here; maybe you should just go home and have him take over for you today?”
Rachel shook her head, then swayed on her feet as the movement wreaked havoc on her balance. “No, I can’t—he’s here so R. J. can show us some new iven—invet—in-ven-tor-y soft-ware.” She formed the words carefully to get them through her malfunctioning mouth. What on earth was wrong with her this morning?
Ruby Jean came out of the office and motioned her in. “I thought I heard you out here. Come on in and we’ll get started with this.”
“Right.” Rachel turned and nearly walked into the doorframe, catching herself at just the last second but nearly falling over in the process.
“Whoa, you all right there?” Ruby Jean put a hand on her arm to help steady her, then frowned. “You getting sick?
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Ruby Jean made a face. “Hold on a minute.” She led Rachel into the office, then said to Cole, “Could you give us a few minutes?”
“Sure thing.” Cole hopped up from his seat and disappeared out the door. Rachel sat down, relieved to be off her feet.
Ruby Jean shut the door, then turned to Rachel with a frown. “Rachel, did you have any alcohol this morning?”
Rachel sighed. “Yes, I did. Just some Irish coffee this morning to soothe some frayed nerves. Why?”
“I think you’re drunk.”
Rachel’s mouth gaped like a fish. “I—wha—no, not drunk. No.”
“Yes, I think you are. How much did you have?”
“Three cups of coffee.”
“But how much alcohol?”
Rachel’s mind tried to scramble for an answer but failed. “I don’t remember.”
Ruby Jean sighed and sat down. “Rachel, I’m worried about you.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “That seems to be the trend.”
“Well, doesn’t that tell you something?”
“What, that my friends are all nosy?”
Ruby Jean smirked. “No—that you’re having trouble and need some help.” Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Ruby Jean held up a silencing hand. “Listen. I know you’re experiencing a crisis of faith. And I know that can wreak havoc on a soul. And if I have read the signals properly, you and Jack have been on the rocks as well. All that on top of what happened over the summer that drove you to move out here—that’s a lot for one person to deal with. It makes sense that you’d be struggling. But alcohol isn’t going to solve anything.” She glanced at the calendar. “I leave tomorrow afternoon, so I’m going to train Cole on the software today, and then have him train you tomorrow. I know tomorrow’s your day off, but just come in for a couple hours so he can get you up to speed. Today, I want you to go home and meditate. You need to wipe the slate clean and start over. Light a candle, draw the curtains, put on some white noise if it helps, and then work on emptying your mind. Practice some deep breathing; focus on peace and tranquility. Your mind needs a reboot, and I think this will help.”
Rachel was dumbfounded. This wasn’t the consequence she’d expected. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Thank you, Ruby Jean. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I promise it’ll never happen again.”
Ruby Jean gave her a reassuring smile. “We all make mistakes, and we all struggle with something, and eventually we all make a bad decision in how to deal with it. It’s not the end of the world. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, no, I can walk, it’s not far.”
Ruby Jean nodded. “All right then. I’ll tell Cole you’ll be in tomorrow.”
Rachel nodded and stood, steadying herself for a moment before leaving. Her thoughts alternated between self-hate and trying to come up with a plan of attack for when she got home. She did like what Ruby Jean had said about a reset for her brain. Maybe it’d help calm the swirl of confusing thoughts she couldn’t untangle.
Once she was sitting on her floor, however, in the lotus position that she always associated with meditation and a sugar cookie-scented candle burning on her desk, she was stymied. How was she supposed to clear her mind? She tried to focus on peace and tranquility like Ruby Jean had suggested, but she needed something concrete, an actual image for her mind’s eye to look at. She tried thinking of the beach back in California, the waves lapping the sand, the call of the gulls, but it just made her think of all the other things in California that she missed, which then led her to remember all the things she’d run away from, and there went the peace and tranquility she’d been seeking.
She gave up on that and started deep breathing instead. In for a count of four, out for a count of eight. She’d read that somewhere but had never tried it; she found now that it was actually quite relaxing.
The phone rang, startling her awake. A quick glance at the clock radio revealed she’d been out for almost half an hour. She saw Jack’s number on the screen and groaned inside.
“R. J. said you went home sick. You all right?”
Bless you, Ruby Jean. “Yeah, yeah, just had a really bad night and felt really awful this morning.”
“Sounds like I woke you up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“’Course, baby. I’ll give you a call at the end of my shift; if you’re feeling up for it, I’ll bring some dinner over.”
“Okay. Thanks, Jack.”
“Go back to sleep.”
She sat back down and tried once again to meditate. After a few unsuccessful minutes, she stood up from the floor and
blew out the candle. “This is ridiculous.”
Meditation wasn’t going to do her any good if she couldn’t figure out how to do it without falling asleep. Ruby Jean was partially right, at least—Rachel was in crisis. Whether it was a crisis of faith or something else was irrelevant. But it was clear that being here with Daphne the mental roommate was not at all helping. Maybe all she really needed was to be in an environment where she didn’t fear a giant confrontation every time she came home. If she could shake the depression—or whatever it was—then chances were she’d feel better about a lot of things, like her relationship with Jack, and maybe even the whole God thing.
She squared her shoulders beneath the ever-growing weight of anxiety, then spoke to the silence to kick herself into gear. “All right. I’m moving out.”
Saying it aloud made it feel real, and it felt good. This must be the right decision. But to where would she move?
There was only one place that made sense. She picked up her phone and sent a text to Jack. Bring boxes when u come over and help me pack, roomie.
Chapter 18
Jack showed up on Rachel’s porch with three giant plastic tote boxes and sub sandwiches for dinner. When she let him in, he scooped her up in a hug and kissed her. “I’m so psyched you said yes.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I know. It’ll be fun.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“Sort of. Slept most of the day.” It was nice to be able to tell the truth every now and then. Though, she had also spent time writing a list of what she was going to do to improve her life. Being more forthcoming was at the top. So was being a better girlfriend.
“Eat first or pack?”
“Eat.” They set up their meals on the bar and Rachel poured sodas for both of them.
Jack raised his eyebrows. “A soda without anything added?”
Also on the list had been not drinking around people who might give her grief about it. “Trying to cut back.”
He nodded. “That’s good. I was actually going to mention tonight that depression can be made worse by alcohol. Another tidbit I picked up from my mom. You might want to just cut it out altogether until you’re emotionally back to normal.”
The thought of giving up the one thing that relaxed her made Rachel crave a drink even more. “That’s interesting,” she said trying to sound interested. “Good to know.”
Jack looked relieved. “Awesome. I really think it’ll help you. And if it doesn’t, I’m sure my mom can recommend a doctor.”
“A doctor? Not necessary, Jack.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to be put on some stupid pill that’s going to give me all sorts of crappy side effects.”
“Could they be any worse than being depressed?”
He had a point there.
After they finished dinner they brought the boxes into the bedroom and started packing. It didn’t take long to fill the three bins, and Rachel secretly hoped he’d leave since there was nothing left to do. Unfortunately he’d thought ahead.
“So I was thinking we could just bring these over and unpack them, then bring them back.”
“Oh—so you’re ready for me to start moving in? Who moved out, Dale or Stefan?”
Jack looked confused. “No, they’re both still there. But they’re both fine with you moving in. Makes everyone’s rent cheaper.”
“But then where am I going to sleep?”
Jack chuckled. “Where do you think?”
“Wait—with you? But I thought you didn’t want to, um … you know, do that yet.”
He laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I told you I was ready to take the next step, remember? With all that it entails.”
Her mind scrambled. “But—but your bed, you just have a twin—”
“And so do you. We’ll put them together and buy bigger sheets. And I’ll move my dresser into the corner to make room for yours, and I was thinking we could put your desk under the window. It’ll be a tight squeeze for everything, but we’ll make it work.” The light in his eyes faded. “You’re having second thoughts.”
“I—no—I just—maybe because of feeling down lately—I’m not, you know, all that … interested in being, um … intimate.”
Understanding dawned. “Oh, babe, I got it. Don’t worry. No pressure, okay? When we’re both ready, it’ll be great.” He gave her a gentle kiss and squeezed her in his arms. “Listen, I’ll take this stuff over tonight when I go home and then bring the bins to work tomorrow. We can move stuff in phases until you get things squared away with Daphne. Have you told her yet?”
“No. She hasn’t been home all day.”
“All right then. Why don’t we go watch a movie or something? Unless you have some boxes stashed somewhere.”
“No, I don’t have anything. A movie sounds good.” It was a lie, but she was determined to make it truth. Fake it ’til you make it—wasn’t that what people said? She was moving in with this guy, she needed to work harder at being fully present in their relationship. What choice did she have?
o
Rachel tried to get through the night without a drink. But by one in the morning her self-control had waned. Later, she awoke feeling fragile and anxious, and was not at all looking forward to going in to work, even if it was for just a couple hours.
In the meantime she searched for something to fill the role vodka had been filling. She knew she was technically hungry, but she had no appetite. She tried reading one of her favorite books, but her focus was so shot she couldn’t track with it, even though she knew the story backward and forward. She found a yoga DVD on Daphne’s movie shelf and gave it a try, but walking to and from the café was the only real exercise she’d done in ages, and the poses were awkward and her body too stiff and uncoordinated.
She was desperate for something to fill her mind besides the chant of I want a drink when the phone rang. It was Cole. “So two people have bailed for last shift today and I’m desperate. Can you come in?”
Despite dreading work for the last three hours and having no energy or concentration, she jumped at the chance to have her mind and hands occupied. “Sure. I’ll come in for the software stuff in a little bit and stay for the shift.”
“You’re awesome, Rachel. Thanks.”
She finally stopped stalling and began preparing her room for the move to fill the last half hour before she had to leave. Though I suppose I can’t move until I talk to Daphne, and she’s been awful scarce lately. Maybe I’ll manage to not run into her for a few more weeks and can put off the move.
When she left the house, the bracing November chill didn’t clear her head like she’d hoped it might. She walked to the coffee shop with her head bent against the cold and her hands tucked deep into her pockets. By the time she reached the café she was nearly running to escape the frigid air. She burst in the back door and shut it quickly. “Out for a run?” Cole asked when he saw her bright-cheeked and panting.
“Of a sort,” she said between gasps.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Yes! Vodka, please! “The strongest stuff we have, straight.” She smiled wide to convey a lightness she didn’t feel.
“Coming right up,” he said as he left the office, then returned shortly with an espresso.
“Perfect. Thanks.”
After two hours of training with Cole she was able to teach back the basics of the program to him. “Great. Let’s call it a day.” He shut down the program, then nodded toward the front. “You’re sure you’re okay taking the shift?”
“Yeah, at least it’s just drinks and nonmanagerial stuff.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know the feeling. Making the drinks is nice and mindless after a while.”
Not too mindless, hopefully. She pulled on her apron and went out to the counter, entering the fray with the only other person working the front. Her old speed was gone, replaced by methodical movement and careful attention to every step of the process.
&nb
sp; By the time they closed, Rachel was exhausted. She wondered if she’d even be able to fall asleep unaided tonight. She and Cole closed together, and she was getting ready to leave when Declan’s face appeared at the locked door. “He’s a friend of Leah,” she told Cole when he asked who it was. She unlocked the door. “Hey there. Leah isn’t here.”
“What? I missed her again, eh? That girl is terrible about calling.” He smiled. “Well then … how are you?”
She hunched her shoulders to an exaggerated effect. “I’m five minutes from falling asleep standing up.”
He chuckled. “Well, don’t let me stop you from getting on with your duties, then. Do you have a ride home?”
“Just the bus.”
“Alone? That’s not safe at all. Let me go with you.”
She shook her head. “No, really, that’s not necessary—”
“Aye, but my mother raised me to be chivalrous, and I’d hate to disappoint her.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Okay, you win. Give me five minutes to finish up.”
She tried to concentrate on what she still had left to do, but all she could think was, Remember your boyfriend. Remember Christians aren’t supposed to date unbelievers. You have nothing to offer him. You’re a project to him, nothing more. Don’t be fooled.
Except he was really good at not making her feel like a project.
She pulled on her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck, then followed Declan out to the bus stop. “Shouldn’t be long, probably just five minutes or so,” she told him as they walked to the stop down the block. “So what were you and Leah going to work on so late at night?”
“A, uh—a project for class.”
“What class?”
Declan chuckled and ducked his head. “All right, you win. I’m bluffing. I actually stopped by to see you.”
Reinventing Rachel Page 23
