Alexei

by Rothert, Brenda

  “My wife’s nothing like that,” Joe says. “She’s a saint.”

  I nod in his direction. “Good. But…there will still be a lot of hard times ahead. The sober partner of an alcoholic may have resentment and trust issues. Sometimes they don’t even realize how dysfunctional things were until their partner gets clean. I very strongly encourage my single patients to remain single for at least nine months after getting clean, preferably a year. A romantic relationship often complicates things, and the first year of sobriety is statistically the hardest by far. But when you’re already in a relationship, you can’t just focus on yourself.”

  Alexei clears his throat. “Uh…are you saying nine months without sex?”

  My heart hammers just from hearing him say the word, but I keep my cool. “Ideally, yes.”

  “Who is that ideal for?” His eyes are full of disbelief.

  My personal and professional sides collide as I recall Alexei telling me he used to wake up in strange women’s beds on the regular when he was drinking. Inside, I’m burning with jealousy and longing.

  “It’s best to keep your focus on your recovery,” I say smoothly. “Create new healthy habits and routines. That takes time. And like we’ve talked about, you don’t want to replace one addiction with another. Sex is an easy replacement, and it’s not a healthy one.”

  He shakes his head. “Not always. Great sex with the right woman is good for body, mind and soul.”

  I can’t quite put my finger on the way Alexei makes me feel when he says that. I’m annoyed that he affects me this way, and that he’s challenging me during group after he said he’d be all business here.

  “And when is the last time you had sex with the right woman?” I ask him pointedly. “Or sex while sober?”

  He shrugs and says, “It’s been a while.”

  “Sex is part of your drinking routine,” I remind him. “You’ll want a new routine that supports your sobriety.”

  “You could take up knitting instead,” Gia says, her tone laced with sarcasm. “That’s what Dr. Wells does when her girly parts start tingling.”

  Alexei narrows his eyes at her. “Why are you such a raging bitch?”

  There are a few seconds of silence as everyone takes in his question. I could intervene here, try to deescalate the tension, but I don’t. Alexei’s asking something I’d like to ask Gia myself, but I can’t.

  She shrugs. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “Too late,” he fires back.

  Melinda jumps in. “You seem to have anger issues, Gia.”

  “At least I’ve never murdered anyone.”

  I’m on the verge of telling Gia to leave the session, but then I look at Melinda’s expression and I change my mind. She doesn’t look hurt or angry, but rather…resolved, which is new for her.

  “The difference between you and I is that I accept responsibility for what I did,” Melinda tells Gia. “I’ll live with it every day for the rest of my life, like a thousand-pound boulder on my back. But you’re selfish, careless and mean. I’d rather be trapped in this room with a venomous snake than you.”

  Holy shit. Mic drop. Melinda just found her self-worth and put Gia in her place all in the same breath. Inside, I’m slow clapping.

  Gia crosses her arms and looks away. I can tell Melinda got to her, which is good, but it was enough. Patient sessions are often an ongoing pushing and pulling of boundaries and emotions. Some walls crumble slowly, while others suddenly implode.

  “You can drop the façade anytime,” I tell Gia softly. “Just let go of the untouchable bad girl and let us see who’s really in there. We won’t judge.”

  She groans. “God, this place is fucking exhausting.”

  With that, she gets up and leaves the room.

  “Dr. Wells, I don’t mean to question your decisions, but do you really think there’s a chance she’s going to change?” Melinda asks.

  “There’s always a chance.”

  “Does everyone stay until the end and some graduate and others don’t?”

  “Sometimes,” I say. “Patients are sometimes asked to leave before the end.”

  “You don’t think Gia needs to leave?” Melinda lowers her brows in question.

  I hesitate, thoughts racing through my mind. Deep down, I know I wouldn’t have kicked Gia out of Beckett under normal circumstances. Confronting inner demons often brings out the worst in people—that’s just part of the process. I tolerate anything but physical violence and behavior that hinders the progress of other patients.

  But Gia’s ultimatum has me questioning myself. Do I think there’s any way she’ll be ready to graduate at the end of this session? No. Barring a miracle, Gia will still be aloof and dismissive of the idea that her drug use is a problem.

  Will I let her graduate anyway, just so she doesn’t tattle on me for my crush on Alexei? No. I’d rather lose my job than do something so dishonest.

  Gia deserves to be kicked out just for making the threat. But I didn’t even consider that. I think it’s because no matter how much training I’ve had on boundaries and respect, a part of me that no one ever sees still thinks I deserve to be treated badly.

  I’m something of a fraud, really—a therapist who instills self-worth in others every day but struggles to find my own at times. I come by it honestly due to my dysfunctional childhood, but I still feel shame over it.

  I have shame about my shame, which is ironic. I identify deeply with the shame so many of my patients feel because, even though they have no idea, I feel it, too. It’s something I’ll always battle with.

  Alexei speaks up and saves me from responding to Melinda.

  “Let’s trust Dr. Wells to make that decision. She knows things we don’t. We’re not here to judge, remember?”

  I give him a grateful look.

  “You’re right, of course,” Melinda says. “I’m sorry, Dr. Wells.”

  “No need to apologize,” I tell her. “You guys know how I say recovery can be messy? I find it often brings out both the best and the worst in my patients. The relationships the four of you are building with each other will stay with you forever, even if you never talk again after you leave here. And, like her or not, we’re Gia’s best chance at getting clean.”

  “How do you get through to someone like that, though?” Joe asks.

  “Sometimes people are listening even when you think they’re not.”

  Joe looks over at the clock on the wall. “I have to go. My first phone call from home is in ten minutes and I don’t want to miss it.”

  “You get to talk to your wife and kids, how wonderful,” Melinda says. “Enjoy it, Joe.”

  “Thanks.”

  He leaves the room and I look at Alexei and Melinda. “What about you guys? You’re approved for calls to and from home now, too.”

  For the first three weeks at Beckett, patients aren’t allowed any contact with the outside world. Their phones are taken when they’re admitted and they don’t get them back until graduation. Most patients eagerly await the first day for phone calls, like Joe.

  “I should call my husband and see how he is,” Melinda says, sounding like she’s trying to convince herself to do it.

  “You don’t have to,” I remind her. “It’s just an option.”

  “I know.” She shakes her head. “I love my family, but I feel like they’d be better off without me. It has to be hard, with everyone knowing what I did. I feel like I humiliated them.”

  “Who gets to make that decision for your husband and kids? Whether they want you in their lives?” I ask Melinda, not for the first time.

  She hesitates. “They do.”

  “I’ve spoken to all of them over the past three weeks. They love you and miss you and can’t wait for you to get better so you can go home.”

  Her eyes fill with tears. “I miss them, too.”

  “Go call them. You’ve been working hard and they’re proud of you.”

  She nods, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Thank you, Dr. Wells.”

  It’s just Alexei and I in the room then, and after our emotionally-charged group session, I’m too worn out to get hot and bothered over him.

  “What about you?” I ask him. “Don’t you want to make some phone calls?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m good. There’s no one I want to talk to.”

  “No one?”

  “No one but you.” He grins. “If I had your number, I could call you.”

  I can’t help smiling. “What happened to being all business in group?”

  He looks around the room. “I don’t see any group. It’s just you and me.”

  God, I like the sound of that. But I also know how dangerous this conversation is. Before I can shut it down, Alexei ends it for me by standing up.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he says. “I’ll do that session with you and my brother if you still think it’s a good idea.”

  I slide my glasses up the bridge of my nose and say, “I do, yes.”

  “Okay.” He puts his hands in the pockets of his dark gray sweatpants and gives me a brief, but sexy smile. “See you tomorrow, Dr. Wells.”

  He leaves then, and I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. There are two weeks left in this session, and I’m not sure if they’ll feel like the two longest or shortest weeks ever. Either way, I already know I’m going to miss Alexei Petrov—a lot.

  14

  Alexei

  “Father Time, can you believe that? It sounds like a major role, right?” Joe beams at me across the table as we eat dinner. “And no prior acting experience. My kid’s just a natural.”

  He’s been talking nonstop about his family since his phone call this afternoon. Apparently his wife, son and two daughters caught him up on every single thing they’ve done or said in the past three weeks, and now Joe’s relaying it all to me.

  “And I’ll be out of here in time to see him in the play,” he continues. “What do you give a boy on opening night of a play? I know you’re supposed to give a girl flowers, but I don’t know what to get a boy.”

  “Does he have a hockey stick?”

  “No.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Nine.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s time for his first hockey stick. I’ll send him one.”

  Joe lights up. “Would you really? A real one, from your team?”

  “I’ll send one signed by all the guys and another one he can actually play with.”

  “Man, that’d be awesome, thanks.”

  I remember then that my team is now the Chicago Blaze. I’ll never play with the Austin Comets again. And even though I’m strength training every day and physical therapy is going well, I may never play for the Blaze, either. I’ll have to get back to the top of my game physically to even have a chance.

  Graysen catches my eye as she walks across the dining room, deep in conversation with a colleague. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a big bun, a few curls spilling loose.

  “You got a thing for the doc?” Joe asks, sounding amused.

  “What? No.” I look down at the vegetables on my plate.

  “You do.”

  I shrug, playing it off. “I haven’t been with a woman in more than a month and she’s pretty, so yeah, I’m looking.”

  “She’s pretty, isn’t she? I didn’t see it when I first got here, but the more I get to know her, the more I see it.”

  “Want to catch some hockey later in the lounge?”

  “Yep,” Joe says through a bite of mashed potatoes. “Hey, you should ask her out.”

  “You think?” I give him a pointed look. “Should I take her out for dinner here in the Beckett dining room and then ask her back to my room for the night?”

  “Not now, asswipe. After we get out of here.”

  “I might.”

  I will, but I don’t tell Joe that. The last thing I want is to get Graysen in trouble by saying too much. I never would’ve thought a woman like her would be interested in me, and now that I know she is, I can’t stop thinking about her.

  One thing I know for sure about Graysen is that her attraction to me has nothing to do with me being an NHL hockey player. I’ve never been able to say that about any woman. They often want to be seen out with me by going to high-profile places or they ask for tickets to games. It’s never about who I am, but rather what I can do for them.

  But Graysen met me at rock bottom, and she still saw something she liked. She knows I may never play another pro hockey game in my life, and that if I have to retire, my whole career will be stained by my colorful exit.

  Graysen stops to talk to Melinda, both of them laughing over something. One of the things I admire most about Graysen is the way I’ve seen her slowly breathe live back into Melinda, who was a broken woman when she got here.

  I’m sure a part of her will always be broken by what happened, but Graysen has been reminding her she’s still worthy, and that everyone makes mistakes, some bigger than others. I truly think she saved Melinda’s life.

  How many others has she saved? How many marriages have been brought back from the brink by Graysen’s intervention in one partner’s addiction? How many children have gotten a parent back?

  She gets here early every morning and stays until at least seven every night. Graysen spends her days delving into the darkest, dirtiest corners of people’s lives in hopes of saving them from addiction.

  I’m an alcoholic. I never could’ve said that before her. It felt weak, like a contrived excuse for not showing up to life every day. But now I know it’s just part of who I am, just like I’m naturally athletic and I tend to procrastinate.

  I’ll have to say those words to myself every day for the rest of my life, to remind myself why I can’t simply have a beer with some teammates. I can’t drink in moderation. Before, I convinced myself it was because I didn’t want to drink in moderation, but now I’m sore self-aware.

  “Two more weeks, man,” Joe says. “You think you’re ready for the real world again?”

  His question reminds me that staying sober will be harder when I have a choice about whether or not to drink. I’ll be living in Chicago and continuing physical therapy, but the temptations of booze and partying will still be there.

  “I hope so,” I tell Joe. “What about you?”

  “I’m ready. I’ve got four great reasons to stick with it this time. My wife and kids are my whole world, and they believe in me. That’s all I need.”

  I level a serious look at him. “I’ll be living close by, man. You even think about relapsing and I’ll be on your doorstep kicking your ass.”

  Joe’s brows draw together in surprise. “You’d do that?”

  “Hell yeah. What, you think I’m gonna ask you to party with me or something? I’m planning to stay sober, too.”

  “No, I just…didn’t think you’d want to keep in touch or anything after this. You know, you’re like…famous and all.”

  “Man, fuck that.” I give him a serious look. “You’re my friend.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah.”

  He grins. “You’re my friend, too. I’ve lost contact with a lot of my old friends between having kids and taking up drinking as a part-time job.”

  “You’re a new man now,” I remind him. “Getting a fresh start.”

  “I’m sticking with it this time. For my family and also because I never want to go through detox again.”

  “Pretty bad?”

  He shudders. “I seriously thought I was gonna die, dude.”

  Graysen is walking toward the dining room entrance, a tray of food in her hands. She looks over at us and I wave. She hesitates just a second before approaching us.

  “Hey, Doc,” Joe says. “How’s it going?”

  “Well, it’s pizza night, so…I can’t complain.” Her smile is nervous.

  “Want to sit?” I ask her, sliding over a few inches and patting the bench I’m sitting on.

  “Oh, no…I’m going back to
my office to finish up some paperwork.” She smiles again and waves. “See you tomorrow, guys. Have a good evening.”

  When she’s out of earshot, Joe says, “I think she might kinda like you, too.”

  I wave off his suggestion. “Nah, I’m not her type.”

  “Man, you’re every woman’s type. Attractive, successful and not an asshole.”

  “You hitting on me right now, Joe?” I cock a brow at him.

  “You only wish.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, Dr. Wells was kinda blushing when she came over here.”

  “Maybe it was because of you.”

  He scoffs. “I’m a married guy with a beer belly and a receding hairline. It’s definitely you she’s into, bro.”

  “She probably dates doctors and lawyers and shit.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You’re a pro athlete. You make more than all of them. Plus, you know…you’ve got abs.”

  I laugh. “They’re hanging by a thread these days. I’ll have to cut back on the powdered sugar doughnuts when we get out of here.”

  Joe says something, but I miss it because I’m too busy watching Graysen as she disappears from sight.

  Damn. I’ve really got a thing for that nice, round ass. And her smile.

  I’ve got two weeks to convince her to give me a chance. And not in nine months to a year. I can’t wait that long, and I can’t risk some other guy snatching her up in the meantime.

  Graysen tells us all to envision what we want for ourselves after rehab. And the only things I ever envision are returning to hockey and her.

  15

  Graysen

  Well, I’m fucked.

  Alexei just showed up for our one-on-one session fresh out of the shower in shorts and an Austin Comets T-shirt, his brown hair wet and curling at the ends. He smells like soap and looks like a photo from a sexy men calendar.

  “Hey, sorry,” he says as he sits down. “I had to double up my workout today because tomorrow morning I have that information session on AA groups.”

  “Don’t miss that. Those meetings are so important to your sobriety.”