A glass can represent a lot. The optimist would say that the glass is merely half full. The pessimist would state that the glass is half empty while the realist may observe that a glass can never be completely empty as half the space not occupied by liquid is occupied by air. The opportunist on the other hand would have drank the liquid in the time the optimist, realist and pessimist were arguing over the contents of the glass. If that was the case, Trixie was the opportunist.
Trixie lay back on her bed the empty glass lying limply in her hand. Just one drink she had told herself, just one drink to get her through the night, to send herself to sleep. She could stop. The previous night's events were still clouding her mind. Never again would she put herself in that situation again, never again would Barbra have to put her to bed, never again would she let drink affect her work. She stared at the glass, the emptiness taunting her. The emptiness of the glass and the emptiness within her.
A light knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Hello?" she called out.
"May I come in?" Barbra entered the room slowly, in order to give Trixie a moment to compose herself and pretending not to notice the way in which Trixie wiped the tears from her eyes. Without a word she took the empty glass from Trixie's hand and placed in on her bedside table, giving her an encouraging smile as she did so. Trixie was grateful for the small gesture. Trixie began to wonder when did Barbra grow up, when did Barbra turn from the niave girl who entered to convent a few weeks prior. into a mature women whom Trixie had begun to lean on. Trixie had always felt as if she'd been the one to look after Barbra, viewing her as a younger sister ever since she had taken residence at Nonnatus and now the tables had turned.
"Barbra. I," But before Trixie could finish her sentence Patsy entered the room in her usual haphazard manner.
"Ah hello Babs," she said, falling onto her bed, she was exhausted from a long day and ready to relax with a cigarette and something a little stronger than Horlicks. She noted the bottle of Gin still sat on Trixie's table. "Well I see Trixie's bar is open, may I?" She gestured towards the bottle. The use of "Trixie's Bar" hurt her just as much as the first time Barbra had used the phrase. Was this really how her friends viewed her?
"How about a nice cup of Horlicks," Barbra interrupted, so that Trixie wouldn't be tempted to have another drink just to please her roommate. Patsy merely laughed at the suggestion. That was until she noticed the way in which Barbra had not let go of Trixie's hand since she had entered the room, the way in which the two girls were perched on edge the Trixie's bed together, Trixie leaning on Barbra's shoulders and her eyes now closing, lips trembling, something she did when she was trying not to cry.
"Oh Golly," Patsy exclaimed, "what an earth has happened?"
"Trixie's just having a rough day," Barbra answered for Trixie again, exchanging a look with Patsy as she did so. Almost automatically both their eyes glanced at the bottle still sat there. Patsy nodded with a sense of understanding, annoyed with herself for not noticing sooner. The silence filled the room. Without a second thought Patsy picked up the bottle, taking it to the bathroom to pour its contents down the sink. A small gesture of solidarity. When she returned she sat on the other side of Trixie, placing an arm around her shoulder as she did so. It was in that moment, with her head still resting on Barbra's shoulder and wrapped within Patsy's arms that Trixie knew she needed to be truthful.
"My father was an alcoholic," she started, so much within her screaming at her to stop. Stop now and let the demons continue to reside with her. But she also knew she needed to say this now. Now before things got worse, before things went too far. "The only thing that stopped his night terrors, the only thing to make him feel better was a bottle of scotch. And doesn't every daughter want to make their father happy? Something like that doesn't ever leave you, not really. I can forget about it when I'm working, because just for a moment I'm a part of that family. A happy family. And then at night it hits me. I barely had a family, let alone a happy one. And at night I need something to fill that void and a glass of stiff scotch or Gin did that for me. I didn't realise how far it had gone until last night." Trixie glanced at Barbra not needing to explain what she meant. For a moment none of the young girls knew what to say. Trixie felt a sense of relief having finally faced her demons after months of hiding from them. Barbra and Patsy sat shocked both feeling a sense of guilt for not noticing how broken their friend was. It was their job to put the pieces back together and hold them in place.
It was Patsy who broke the silence first.
"You do have a family Trix, and they're sat either side of you. They're holding your hand and refuse to let go. They're by your side every day whether that's at work or at home. They're downstairs praying for you. They're all under this roof. Because this is your home, and it is a happy one." Patsy knew she needed to say no more.
"I can look into support groups for you, if you'd like –" Barbra started, causing a smile to form just slightly in the corners of Trixie's mouth for the first time that evening, she loved the way her friend always had to find a practical solution to the problem. Barbra noticed and looked down at her lap rather sheepishly, the way in which she always did when she felt she had said the wrong thing. "But of course Patsy and I will help you through it. Just please know you're not alone. You don't have to be alone in this Trixie." Trixie allowed herself to sink further into Barbra's side and cried in a way she hadn't allowed herself to cry in years. Years of pent up emotion finally seeping out the cracks, allowing space for wounds to heal. Patsy and Barbra simply sat with her until she was too tired to cry anymore. Her two friends helped her to her bed and sat either side of her until she finally slept. Barbra placed a soft kiss on Trixie's head before finally leaving the room in the early hours, Patsy nodded at her as she left, a silent acknowledgment between the pair that should would watch over Trixie that night and comfort her when she woke in the night.
The next morning Trixie woke to find Pasty sat on the floor but her head resting on Trixie's bed, fast asleep, still clutching her hand. She'd stayed true to her word and not left her side. Trixie glanced over to the cabinet, usually lined with various bottles of alcohol, to find it was now empty. Getting up slowly as not to wake Patsy, she walked over to the cabinet, her delicate fingers gliding over it as they had done so many times before. On top of the cabinet she found a note that simply said "We do this together, Pats x".
It would take a while for Trixie to finally embrace sobriety and find joy in it. But until then she knew she had her family to catch her every time she fell. And most importantly the family she had found at Nonnatus were happy.