Big Lies in a Small Town - Diane Chamberlain Page 0,73
not. I could lie, but decided against it. “Actually, no,” I said. “It’s an alcohol monitor. I had a problem with drinking.” I surprised myself with the admission. It was the first time those words had come out of my mouth. I’d never uttered “problem” and “drinking” in the same sentence before. About my parents, yes. About myself, never. At the AA meetings, I had yet to stand up and proclaim I was an alcoholic. “A problem with drinking” didn’t sound quite so ominous, and yet the words made me wince. It was the truth, though, wasn’t it? I had to own up to it. I wouldn’t be in the mess I was in if I didn’t have a problem with drinking. If I’d been sober the night of the accident, I would have been driving and my life—and Emily Maxwell’s life—would be completely different now.
“So this keeps me from drinking,” I continued, “because when you drink, the alcohol comes out in your sweat and the monitor would know and would tell…” My parole officer? I really didn’t want to go into all that with this boy. “It would tell my doctor I had a drink. So this helps me to not drink.”
“You’re an alcoholic?” he asked, cutting to the chase.
I hesitated. “I guess you could say that,” I said finally. “And I drank too much and got into a car accident, so I can’t—I don’t want to—drink anymore.”
“Oh,” Nathan said. “Do you always wear it? Like do you have to wear it for the rest of your life?”
“No. Just for now.”
“What happens when you take it off? Then you’ll need willpower, right? To not drink?”
“Exactly.” I smiled, impressed that he’d made that leap in his thinking. He was so cute. Such a miniature Oliver. I wanted to put an arm around his shoulders. Give him a squeeze. “But by then I’ll have made a new habit. A new nondrinking habit. So I won’t drink once I take it off, either.” We’d reached the corner and started across the street. I needed to get the conversation off myself. “Your dad is really looking forward to going to Smith Mountain Lake with you,” I said as we stepped up the curb at the other side of the street.
“Mmm,” he said. “I don’t know if I can go.”
“Really? Why not?”
“My stepdad is getting us tickets to Disney World and he thinks that’s the only time he can get off before school starts up.”
“Does your dad know?”
He shook his head. “It’s not for sure yet, so I won’t tell him till it is. I’ve been to Smith Mountain Lake like a million times, but I’ve never been to Disney World and it’ll be so cool.”
I was surprised how much my heart ached for Oliver. Truly ached. I rubbed my chest, thinking of how Oliver’s eyes lit up when he talked about having a whole week with his son. It had been a while since I’d felt such concern for someone, but then it had been a while since I’d had a friend who didn’t want something from me. A friend who only wanted to help me.
“Your dad would be really disappointed,” I said.
“I don’t think so,” Nathan said. “He actually hates how sticky hot it gets at the lake in the summer and all the mosquitoes and everything, so maybe he won’t care. And I really want to go to Disney World.”
Stay out of it, I told myself. This is not your problem. Yet a million responses ran through my mind. Don’t be so selfish! I wanted to say. You are so lucky to have a father who loves you and wants to do things with you and isn’t drunk all the time. Please don’t break his heart.
“I hope they have lots of mayo for the BLT,” Nathan said, and only then did I realize we’d reached the door of the café.
“I’m sure they do,” I said, and I followed him inside, vowing to keep my mouth shut. This was not my problem to solve. I had plenty of my own.
Oliver had set up a new workspace for himself in the foyer by the time Nathan and I returned with lunch. The folding table now held his computer, several of his towering stacks of paper, and the photograph of his son.
“All set here,” he said.
The three of us ate together sitting on the cool tiled floor. Then Oliver spent the afternoon teaching me about the conservation paints and how to use the annoying