Deadening the Pain

What's the difference between and Alcoholic and a Problem Drinker? - A Problem Drinker is an Alcoholic I care about - old saying in AA

There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance – that principle is contempt prior to investigation. – Herbert Spencer

A/N: I struggled on this chapter. Even my Beta realized I was missing direction. Enabling someone is the easy way out, having the strength to hold your ground is difficult. Life was never meant to be easy. Thanks Cheryl for keeping me on task.


While I gather my senses, Jim is in the kitchen tapping his fingers on the counter waiting for the coffee to brew. "Hey, did I ever tell you the time I confronted Sara about her," motioning both hand in the air to mimic a quotation, "drinking problem?"

"Jim, I don't have a drinking problem, and neither did she," I say defensively.

"Well, whatever," he says dismissively. "Anyway, I am going to tell you the same that I told her," he says sliding a cup of hot black coffee in front of me. "There're more problems than answers in the bottom of a bottle." Jim sits down and watches me from across the table.

The silence is deafening. "Jim, all I need to do….all I want to do is, rest," I say, finally breaking the searing stillness. "Rest in peace," I mutter under my breath.

"Hmmm," Jim replies. "It appears to me you are trying to deaden the pain or cover up the memory of her."

Instead of replying, I reach for the remote and change the channel to the news just as the reporter begins his dialogue.

A local cemetery was vandalized two nights ago. The grave of Janis Tarpin, who was killed in a tragic motorcycle accident a week ago, was unearthed by unknown individuals. We are told this is the second event of this nature in the past month.

"Damn," Jim let out with a sigh shaking his head at the newscast. "I was hoping for more time before John Q. Public found out." Not one to be so easily diverted, Jim turns back to me. "Gil, how long have you been boozing yourself to sleep?"

"Since I stopped crying," I answer. "And I don't sleep anymore, I rest. I gave up on sleep a month ago."

Jim lets out a sigh. "Working double and triple shifts can mess with a person's sleep clock. On top of that, the alcohol, which at first seems to help you sleep, actually causes more disruption."

"If I sleep, I may miss her call. If I rest, then I'm sure to hear the phone ring," I say trying to rationalize.

"True, there is a difference between the two. But, in fact, what I just witnessed was sleep, a deep sleep at that." Brass lifts his cup to his lips for a long swallow of the now tepid coffee. "You were unresponsive. I am surprised that Bruno didn't wake you up with his barking when I was banging on the door. You have to get a grip on this….this issue."

"Jim, I am not an alcoholic if that's what you're worried about. I'm perfectly aware there could be a problem, but I don't intend to let it get out of hand. I have seen the devastation that alcoholism can do." I stand and move to the sink, staring out the window.

Jim rises to follow me, "Then quit. Just stop now. Don't pour another drink for thirty days".

"Not a problem," I say firmly. "I've got to get a shower; see you at work".

Jim stands before me with the fiercest look I have ever seen. He sets his cup on the counter and moves to the door. "You know," he said as he pauses to pull the door open, "call me if you need….anything".

"I will," I say as I walk him to the door.

With my head pounding from the lack of alcohol I strip down to sit in the shower.

A mist of rain feels warm on my face. Droplets of water spiral through the curls in my hair. Under me, a cool smooth stone bench supports me as my feet feel the trickle of water. I hear the tiny chirp of fledgling birds in the distance. Relaxation, total relaxation.

"Gil," I hear in the distance. "Are you there?"

"Sara?" I say, "I'm right here."

Sara's voice sounds as warm as the sun breaking through the mist. "I'm sorry I missed you."

"Missed me? I'm right here," I call out. "Where are you?"

I hear her sigh. "I'll try you in hell."

In hell, I think, what do you mean in hell? A shiver of cold runs through me. "Sara," I feel myself screaming now, "where are you?" She's gone. The mist has turned cold. The stone beneath me is hard and my back begins to ache. I feel myself convulse as I shout, "Sara!"

My eyes squint against the light. I look around and realize I am on the floor of my shower. My legs feel numb as I pull myself up. Turning the water off, I reach for the towel and dry myself. I wonder how long I was in the shower. I contemplate doing the math based on my forty gallon hot water tank and then realize how tired that makes me. Looking to my left, I see the red light blinking on the answering machine in the bedroom. With apprehension, I walk over press the play button.

"Gil, are you there?" There is a slight pause then Sara continues, "I'm sorry I missed you." I can hear her sigh in the background. "I'll try your cell."

I run to the living room where I left my cell. The screen shows one missed call.