On Our Love: Victor Nikiforov Part 3: Rehabilitation Journal
By Spunky0ne
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Dear Yuuri,
I've decided to write you letters, so that you will be with me every day of my rehab, and so that when I come home I can tell you everything. I will do my best here and when I come home, I promise I will be a better husband because of this. I love you and think of you every minute of every day. Please think fondly of me too.
Love,
Vitya
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Chapter 1: Intake
Dear Yuuri,
It's only my first hour here, but it isn't so bad, really. I already met someone I know. There is a rock singer who composed a song I used a long time ago for one of my programs. He showed me around and introduced me to some of the other patients. It looks like there is plenty to do so I won't get lazy and fat while I'm here. I don't know yet how the food is, but I'll bet there won't be any pork cutlet bowls here.
Macca and I miss you so much already. I still feel your warmth with me right now, so I'm okay. I'm just sad when I think of how long it will be until I see you again. But I will keep my promise to you. I will do my best here, and I will come back a better, stronger person. When we are married, you will never have to worry about me getting drunk and doing stupid things. That's something to look forward to, da? Anyway, I'm tired and planning to lie down and rest for awhile, now that I've unpacked. I'll write things down every day, and when we can talk again, I'll tell them to you, so maybe you won't worry about what it's like here. It's really okay so far.
Please be sure to visit my mother and give her hugs for me. And take care of yourself, Yuuri. I want to come back and find that you are okay too, so don't mope around too much and cry. Keep busy and train hard.
All my love,
Vitya
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I'm not sure how long I was asleep. I know it was daylight when I arrived here at the Saint Petersburg Recovery Center, and now it is getting dark outside. At first, when I start to wake up, I notice it smells different. Not unpleasant, but like it's been cleaned recently. I'm a little cold because I fell asleep on top of the covers, and they're not my thick, expensive ones. But Maccachin is here, and I was hugging him in my sleep, so at least that doesn't feel so strange. I was allowed to bring comfortable clothing, toiletries and things to read. Just nothing electronic. Stefan told me that they want patients to focus on meeting and interacting with each other. He says that we will learn from each other, and maybe we will teach each other a few things.
I don't care about any of that right now.
I just wish I could go home.
I want to be lying in my own very soft bed that doesn't have springs and doesn't creak every time I move. I want to be burrowed down in crisp, freshly washed sheets that feel new, and my own thick, warm comforter. I want to be able to sleep naked, without worrying someone will come in. I want to be squeezed between Yuuri and Maccachin, so I can smile as I open my eyes, and I can kiss the back of Yuuri's neck and tell him I love him. The only familiar thing I have now are the soft clothes I'm wearing, and Maccachin next to me.
But it was like that once before, wasn't it?
A long time ago, the man I thought was my father beat me so badly that I was in the hospital for over a week. When I left the hospital, I didn't go home. That home wasn't my home anymore. A tall, grumpy looking man named Yakov Feltsman came to the hospital and showed the nurses papers that said I was to go with him. He led me to a dark colored car and drove me to the Saint Petersburg Ice Center Dormitory. Then, he led me to one of the rooms and gave me a suitcase my mother had packed for me. I took the things out of my suitcase, and put them in the little dresser and desk, then when I was done, I laid down on the bed in my room and cried myself to sleep.
I'm older now, and I understand things better, so I don't feel like crying this time. I am sad, but holding Maccachin makes me feel like things will be okay. Besides, when I moved to the ice center dorms, I didn't know anyone. A lot of the other kids who lived there were older, or they already knew each other. And maybe because I was so scared from having been in the hospital, then moving to a new place, I didn't make friends right away. I didn't have Maccachin back then, so I was pretty much alone, except for when Yakov would come to talk to me. Since I didn't have any friends, I focused on the schoolwork that my mentor gave me to do, and I spent lots of time skating. Gradually, as the others saw I was a talented skater, a few of the boys made friends with me, and we began to cause trouble together.
I was fourteen when we started sneaking out to drink and charm our way into dance clubs. Some of the boys also smoked and took drugs, but with Yakov looking over my shoulder, I could only get away with so much. I was lonely a lot of the time, and he knew it, so when my family failed to visit on my sixteenth birthday, he gave me Maccachin, a little standard poodle puppy.
Macca has been my constant companion for over twelve years now. He's old for that breed, but he still keeps up with me and everyone around me. As I wake up in my room in rehab, he can sense that I'm not happy, so he whines sympathetically and licks my face.
"It's all right, Maccachin," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel, "We don't have to be here for too long. Just…two months."
It is too long.
But I think even two days would feel too long to be away from everyone and everything I know.
"I'm hungry," I say, patting him on the head, "and you and I need to get to know everyone."
I stretch and climb out of bed, then I slip my Russian skating team sweater on because of the chill. I leave my room and head down the hallway. As I walk with Maccachin on my heels, I come across Masha, a petite, but outspoken young woman who is here for alcohol and stimulant abuse.
"Hello…Masha, isn't it?" I greet her.
She gives a little nod and looks me over appraisingly.
"And you're Victor Nikiforov," she notes.
"Just Victor will do."
"The Russian fairy."
I'm aware of her aggressive nature and the fact that she has something against men. I'm not sure what.
"Figure skater."
"Alcoholic."
"Yes."
"You know your way to dinner?" she asks.
"I do."
"Good," she says, turning and walking away.
I give Macca a perplexed look.
"Not very friendly, is she?" I say, taking the matter lightly, "Not very cheery, either."
"Victor!" Vasily's voice calls out, "Wait up. I'll come to dinner with you."
He runs to catch up, then pats Macca on the head and scratches behind his ears.
"You all settled in?"
"Mmhmm, and slept a little to make the first day go by faster."
"Eh, it's not so bad, I guess," he sighs, "except detox really sucks."
"I haven't started to feel that yet."
"You will," he assures me, shaking his head, "When you do, I'll be there for you if you need someone."
"Thanks," I answer gratefully, "I did detox at home, but then relapsed over the past few weeks."
He gives me a sympathetic look.
"You know that's only going to make it worse this time, right?"
"Why is that?" I ask him.
"Because your body will know what you're trying to do, and it's gonna fight you. Trust me. I've detoxed a few times, and it never gets better, only worse. I hate it. But if I want a chance to go back to performing, I have to do this."
We stop just outside the cafeteria.
"You've been here before?"
"Not here. But, I've done rehab a couple of times. I just…have trouble when it comes to getting back out into the real world and everything there, you know?"
"I'm not sure," I answer, "I've never done rehab before, so I have no idea how it will be."
Vasily gives a little laugh.
"Busy. Much of the reason we don't screw up will be because we're always in group or one-on-one meetings, classes or doing work around the facility. He looks around for a moment and shakes his head.
"Maybe if the real world was like that, we wouldn't be here, right?"
"I suppose."
He gives me a more cheerful smile.
"Come on. If we don't eat during meal hours, we don't eat, you know."
"Hmm, that's harsh. I'm not used to being confined by a schedule like that."
"You will be," he says, copying Yoda's warning voice from Return of the Jedi, "Yooooou wiiiiiiiiiill beeeeeee!"
Vasily has a great sense of humor. I remember that from working with him on the music for my old program before. I also recall that he did like to drink. I never saw him taking drugs, though.
"Vasily," I say as we walk down the row of food choices and make our selections, "what happened that made you have to come here? I know you said you got addicted to opioids, and I remember that you liked to drink. I just don't remember you taking any drugs when you were around me."
He leads me to one of several long tables in the room and we sit down.
"I didn't," he answers, taking a sip of his soda, "Back then, I did drink a lot, but I wasn't into the drugs. It was after I made the song for your program and I was performing while drunk. I went too close to the edge of the stage and fell. I broke a leg and ended up in the hospital, then my manager said he wanted me to go to rehab for the alcohol abuse. I blew him off…fired him, because there were plenty of other managers willing to take on a moneymaker, and even injured, I was still making good music. I was taking opioids for pain and got hooked on those, so my next manager told me to go to rehab or he was quitting. Word got around that I was trouble, so I had less options, you know?"
"Ah…"
"So, I did the rehab and got clean. I went back to work, writing and performing, but my leg and hip still bothered me. I started getting pills from a friend to deal with it, since I couldn't get them myself, and I ended up hooked again. One night, I drank too much and took some pain pills, and I ended up in the hospital again. When I woke up, I was in restraints, and they said that they thought I did it on purpose to try to kill myself."
"Vasily…"
"This time, I ended up in court and was ordered to rehab. I was sent to one place, but got kicked out for getting into a fight with a real jerk who was in the program. So, now it's this or the psycho ward."
"Damn it, I had no idea things were like that for you," I tell him, "I wish we hadn't lost touch."
"Yeah, me too," he says, trying to sound cheerful, but falling a bit short, "I'm doing okay here. This is a good program. Just ignore Masha's rudeness and everyone's pretty okay. Yegor will get pissy if he backslides. So I've heard, anyway."
"Thanks for the warning," I chuckle.
"Petya, over there, keeps to himself most of the time, but he watches people closely, and he'll call bullshit on you in group if you try to be deceptive."
"That shouldn't be a problem for me. I've got no issue admitting I have a drinking problem. I want to get well, so that I can go home."
Vasily smiles.
"To the Japanese boy I heard about?" he asks, "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude or anything."
"It's fine," I assure him.
"I don't recall you being gay. You were effeminate, and you said that it was for performance. You had a girlfriend then."
"I did," I affirm, "I thought myself to be heterosexual, but maybe that is because I was just never attracted to a man before. Yuuri is the first man I've been attracted to."
"That must have been a shock."
"To me and some other people," I laugh, "but mostly people have been accepting. Except maybe for the Russian government. They told us not to make a public display of our relationship, so we're careful now not to do anything in public to get ourselves in trouble."
"Man, that stinks."
He considers that quietly as we start to eat.
"It does," I agree, "but there isn't a lot we can do. At least, not as long as we're still both skating. We're thinking of marrying in Denmark and moving away once we retire from skating."
"Marriage!" Vasily exclaims with a skeptical edge to his voice, "That's a trap I just decided I don't need."
"Have you been married?"
"No, no never," he says, moving his hand like he's brushing the idea off, "I just wanna sing and write songs. That's pretty much it. I can do that pretty much as long as I have a voice, since I'm well known."
"You sound like you really know what you want."
"So do you," he laughs, raising his soda cup, "To getting outta here and getting what we want."
"I'll drink to that," I say, tapping my cup against his, then we both take a drink.
We look up as Masha plunks herself down at the table, not sitting with us exactly, but close enough to talk.
"Got yourself a hot prospect, Vas?" she snorts.
My friend narrows his eyes and huffs out a little breath.
"Piss off, Mush."
Masha snickers and digs into her food.
"Don't mind her," Vasily tells me, "She doesn't know when to shut up, and she's got no damned filter."
"Hey, I say it how it is," Masha snickers, "I haven't seen you get so cozy with anyone since you got here."
"Well, Victor and I are old friends."
"Rehab buddies?" she asks.
"Nope, Vic's a newbie. I'm just showing him how it goes."
"Right," Masha chuckles, "He looks like he learns quick."
"Mind if ask how you ended up here?" I ask, meaning to break the tension.
"Yeah," she laughs, "I do."
Vasily rolls his eyes.
"Like I said, don't mind her rudeness. Better yet, just ignore her completely. You'll be happier."
I wonder if any kind of happiness is even possible here. I miss Yuuri so much, and even though I know Vasily, I can see already that Masha is going to be confrontational. Petya is going to be watching. How strange are the other people here? Do all of them have more than just substance issues?
Stefan said that I suffer from alcoholism and depression. I wonder how I'll get any less depressed being here.
I pick at my food, but my appetite seems to have left me. When Vasily's finished, we walk back to my room together. I notice that the work schedule has been updated and I'm scheduled to clean the bathrooms at 8:30 am.
Great…of course, I should expect that the absolute shit work is given to the new people, sort of to let them know where they rank in the hierarchy. I just have to quietly do what's assigned to me. They are just waiting to see me turn up my nose at being given such a nasty thing to have to do.
But I lived in the ice center dormitories and I know how these closed communities work. I won't let it get to me. Humility will work better than bravado.
"Ugh!" Vasily groans, "You've got bathroom duty. That sucks."
"It's fine," I sigh sleepily.
"You know, Masha made the schedule."
"It figures."
"Yeah, she's got it in for you. Watch out."
I give Vasily a confused look.
"Why would she have it in for me? I haven't even been here for a day. I haven't done a thing to her."
"You don't need to," he says dryly, "You have a dick, she'll resent you for it."
"But why?"
"Who knows?" Vasily grunts, shaking his head, "Psycho…"
Maccachin and I go into our room and I change into my pajamas and brush my teeth. I sit down on the bed and pet Macca a little.
"There's a story there," I think aloud, "I think she acts like she doesn't want to tell it, but there is a way to get her to. I want to know why she's like that, so tomorrow, we'll start working on finding out."
