the unbearable sight of him forcing my mom onto her knees as he sodomized her. She cried—tears streaming from her eyes, the black from her mascara made crude marks over her sharp cheekbones.
I cried with her.
He finally let me leave, which is how I found myself perusing his cabinet. He only let me leave after forcing me to watch them. Something inside him is broken. It doesn’t make sense to me, but I can’t fix him. After I walked away, I went straight to the hutch in his office.
Grabbing some bottle that’s green and tan and red, I shake it and bring it to my lips. Without thinking twice or smelling it, I chug. The first gulp makes me choke; I cough out the liquid. But that doesn’t stop my pursuit. I take another sip, then another drink, eventually I’m sucking it down like my life depends on it until I’m feeling light-headed.
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting here, a bottle nestled between my palms, drinking it away like it’s the purest form of grace.
I think of that night and wonder if it’s the same one Mom is referring to. “I’m sorry you experienced that, Ma.”
“Sometimes, it’s best to think it is meant to be. No matter how emptying those words sound, God wouldn’t take your baby unless it was—”
“Stop, Ma. Just stop.”
“Toby, I’m just trying to say—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Please. I just... I have to go.”
I hang up. Not even a minute later, I’m rifling through my whiskey cabinet and see my favorite bottle of Jameson. My stomach clenches in anticipation of its burn.
If I’d known all those years ago that an amber liquid would drown me, take away all of my power, and watch me fall to my knees for it, would I have still drank it? Allow myself to become consumed by it? After knowing what it has done, how I allowed it to own me, and how it breaks me with every fucking drop, think I’d have walked away from it?
They have warning labels, so humans—as faulty as they are—will second-guess a choice. Alcohol isn’t like that. There are whiskey commercials that make people look sophisticated and happy, sexy and sensual, and people talk about the reprieve it offers. What about warning us that it’ll rip you apart eventually? A sign that it’ll take and take and take until the only thing left is worthlessness?
What about the self-loathing?
The anger.
Bitterness.
Resentment.
The lost time?
The cold glass of the bottle touches my lips, whispering sweet nothings, promising to hide away my pain. That succulent titter, offering nothing more than regret, but lying all the same.
I open wide, guzzling another mouthful. Once, this burned. It ached as it sloshed down my esophagus. Now, it’s a tantalizing zing, a high like no other, and as it weasels its way into my stomach, comfort confides in me, begging me for more, more, more.
I was almost three years sober.
Three goddamn years.
Who knew it’d take one loss to break me?
Joey saved me.
Now, it’s Jameson’s turn.
Part III
Detoxify
Spirals. We all have them. From afar, we can see the telltale signs and try to catch them for other people. What about for the ones who are experiencing it first-hand?
We try to put the bottle down.
We try to clean our palette of addiction.
We try to be better.
What if the sole person who had endless hope for you becomes hopeless?
You spiral.
I’m spiraling.
I’m spinning.
I’m dying.
Is it too late?
- Toby
Chapter Forty-Three
Present
Toby
My jaw clenches with the extent of pressure I’m putting on it, my eyes strain to unfeel everything up until this moment. Love hurts. If I’ve learned anything from Loren, it’s that it can be the utmost exciting part of life while the most detrimental in the same breath.
It’s exhaustive.
A cheat.
Rebellious in nature.
You can have many loves. They don’t even have to be romantic. But the kind embedded in the soul that are on a deeper level than friendship, that bow inside until they seep through the pores, that’s the love we fight for. It’s the love we want and search for. On the same token, it’s the one we take for granted, abuse, and wish to live without because it can calm as much as destruct. It can ensure pain and ease it. Kiss the heart and sink its teeth in. It wholeheartedly owns all the power and that is its right. It’s not a privilege, nothing earned or borrowed, because love bends for no one, it doesn’t malleate to what is needed, it is a reckless substance no