~ Chapter 8: Just One More ~
The realization that I had a genuine problem would hit me slowly and all at once. There's no better way to describe it. It's kind of like once it had to be a secret, it started to feel wrong.
I know that doesn't make sense because it was a secret before, but it wasn't an intentional secret, you know. After my accident, the secrecy was so much more purposeful. If someone knew I was drinking before, it didn't matter as much; I was just being a normal teenager and learning my limits. Afterward, though, my continued supply of alcohol depended on them believing I was sober. It was exhausting.
I wasn't always perfect. Sometimes I drank a little too much and Lucy or Derek figured it out, especially at the beginning, but within a month of my accident, I had everyone believing I was sober. At least, that's what I thought.
The very last time that Derek caught me was actually just a coincidence; I'd gone three days without drinking because I was kind of trying in a way. I mostly wanted to prove that it didn't matter if I was drunk or sober because no one could tell the difference, and I was saving up for Derek's birthday gift, so I was trying to ration the alcohol I had hidden in my bedroom. I figured I should save it for when I really needed it because the concert tickets I wanted to get him were gonna set me back.
Derek came over and we were in my room. We were getting a little… well, you know, but we knocked into my dresser, and it must've loosened the bottle because it fell to the ground and rolled out. For a second, we both just kind of looked at it because what were the odds?
Then he freaked. He said that I told him I quit, which wasn't true. I told very carefully constructed half-truths but had specifically avoided saying that I was sober. I'd also never told him I was drunk and kept lying and saying that I was getting so much out of my AA meetings – not technically a lie because there was a liquor store around the corner from where we met that I could always buy something at, so I did get something out of AA in the early days… just not what I should be getting out of it.
A technicality didn't change that I wasn't being honest with him. He took a step back from me and asked me what we were supposed to do. I think his exact question had been what the protocol for a relapse was.
Then he dropped the bomb. Joel told him that I would probably have a lot of ups and downs. Joel told him. Joel, our drummer, told him that I would have ups and downs.
I told you that no one knows about the accident and that isn't exactly true. Too many people know, if you ask me. Derek had texted a few people, so he'd have someone to talk to about it; I'd felt weird when he told me that, but it made sense. He was processing what happened, and I got that he needed to talk to people about it. Maybe I should've realized that our bandmates would fall into that group. He'd been friends with a lot of them for years, but I'd assumed he hadn't told them out of respect for me.
I couldn't deal with the fact that they knew, and Derek didn't understand why I was upset. He just kept saying they were my friends too, but I felt like my only safe space had been taken away from me. Band practice was the only time my accident wasn't hanging over my head, and now I knew that they all knew the truth. He didn't understand that it should have been my choice to tell them. Right in front of him, I took a sip straight from the bottle and told him to get out.
Ironically, that was the night I decided that I was going to get sober for real. Apparently, I found the thing I hated more than the idea of getting sober and that was him talking shit about my drinking behind my back. Except making that plan while getting drunk is a lot like saying that you're going to become a vegetarian while you pound back steaks.
I really did plan to get sober. I knew how much it was hurting the people I cared about, and even if I thought my accident had been a fluke, I wanted to do it for them. I kept telling myself "just one more" or "one last drink". The funny thing about one last drink is it never really is your last drink if you know it's going to be your last one. It's only after you have it and you choose not to have another that it can take up that mantle, and I wasn't making that decision.
Months of "one last drink" passed.
It took me almost three months to commit to my sobriety. Derek always thought it was him that got through to me. I think he thought that the fear of us breaking up was stronger than my alcoholism. If he wants to believe that all the fights we got in made me want to stop drinking instead of making me want to forget about our fights, then that's fine. He's not right, but he's welcome to believe it.
No, Lucy was eventually the person who got through to me.
On Halloween, Lucy came over. She had some stuff going on with her family and needed an out. I was supposed to go with Derek to this thing that I honestly couldn't even tell you about if I wanted to because the moment he suggested it, I knew it was going to be miserable. I jumped on the chance to miss it and texted him that Lucy needed me.
I went to take a shower and when I got out, a few bottles that I'd had squirreled away in my bedroom were on my bed. She'd known for a while that I was drinking and that was the first time I'd left her alone in my bedroom so she could get her proof. Derek must've told her about the vodka that had fallen off the bottom of my dresser because she even found the bottle of rum I'd had taped under there and the bottle I'd had under my end table.
She was crying which happened about as often as a millennium, so I knew she was really upset. She hadn't even cried when I got home from the hospital.
She told me to choose. I must've looked confused. I remember every word of what she said next because I thought about it nonstop for months after that.
"Choose. I have tried to be here for you since your accident and all this time… I know that this isn't your fault, but I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. If you can't do this on your own, then you need to find help because I am too young to lose my best friend."
I didn't realize until she said it like that that she wasn't trying to take something away from me but was trying to make sure that I was going to be around. I think I could've brushed off just about everything else, but she was the first person to tell me that she didn't want to lose me. My parents and Derek, it had always been about them. I'm sure they felt that way too, but they always focused on how I'd hurt them and how angry they were about what I'd done. With Lucy, she made it about me and about our friendship.
"If you can't stop then that is what it is, but if you want to get help…" She grabbed my laptop. I hadn't noticed it was out before then. "I found some options for you." She reached for my hands. "You don't have to do this by yourself. I'm here, Benji. I can be whatever you need me to be while you pull yourself back together, but I can't be the friend that watches you kill yourself."
I wish I could say that that had been enough to break through to me, but I was so sure she was overreacting. I told her I was only drinking a little and that I was being careful and… she walked out.
I thought it would be like all the other times where it would all go away the next morning, but she avoided me at school the next day and wouldn't answer my texts that weekend. Her silent treatment continued Monday and Tuesday. I didn't realize how much of a void she'd leave. She clearly meant what she said; she wasn't going to watch me do this to myself.
That Tuesday, I decided that I was going to stop drinking. It wasn't really for the sake of quitting, but I wanted to tell Lucy that I could stop. Almost like it would be proof that she was overreacting. Except, Derek and I got into a fight on Tuesday. Ironically, we fought because I wouldn't tell him what me and Lucy were fighting about, and I felt so freaking alone. I didn't know how to not drink when I felt like that because I'd never had to learn. So, I told myself one more day and then I'd stop. Derek and I were still fighting on Wednesday, and I couldn't take it. It had been almost a full week without Lucy, and I started to get scared. What if she meant it? What if I couldn't have her in my life and still drink? What if I really had to choose?
I couldn't do it.
It wasn't just hard to not drink; it felt impossible, Victor. It's the first time I was ever scared of how much I wanted to drink. I knew if I stayed in my house, I would do it. It wasn't an "if"; it was going to happen. So, I walked to Lucy's house.
It was almost 1 am, and I knew Lucy would be sleeping. She lived on the second floor of her house, but we had a decent amount of practice waking the other up after hours. Since my accident, I'd spent several nights with her simply because being home could be unbearable sometimes. Like the last few times it had happened, I threw some rocks at her window.
I'd accidentally broken her window doing that once a few years earlier, so I was always careful not to throw them too hard. Lucy got me into her room without her dad seeing and crossed her arms. She was still pissed, and it only broke me more.
I had a complete breakdown. It was the first time I'd ever cried like that. My drunken breakdowns had nothing on that moment as I finally accepted that I had a problem. Lucy was right; I couldn't do it on my own. Not because I wasn't strong enough but because addiction isn't one of the few things that you both do and don't have to fight on your own. I needed to make the decision to get sober and stay sober but that didn't mean I couldn't lean on people to get ther. It was a long time before I came to that realization, but I'd get there, and I started to learn that lesson that night.
The denial I'd been clinging to, the claims that it wasn't a problem, the hope that things would just fix themselves… they all fell away while I cried and while Lucy held me. She forgave me right away; she told me that she'd help me however she could.
I had to face myself, and I couldn't run away from how much I hated that person. I told her that. I told her that I didn't know how to live with myself anymore. It had to have scared her; it terrified me.
Lucy held me while I cried then walked me back to my house and dumped out every bottle I had. I told her where everything was, including the stuff she hadn't found a few days earlier because I'd gotten VERY good at hiding it. She put it all in the back of her car so my parents wouldn't see it.
Then we talked about my options. Lucy had suggested rehab, but I knew I would lose everything. My parents and Derek thought I'd been sober, and I couldn't handle that. Vic, I really didn't think I could get sober if every part of my life was falling to pieces. Lucy agreed to try it my way first but made me promise that I'd tell my parents and consider rehab if it didn't work, and she'd tell them herself if I couldn't. She told me that this was my only pass. She knew it was wrong not to tell my parents, but I think she was as scared as I was.
Something changed between us that night. I think I stopped treating her like she was my friend just because she felt like she should be and started to realize that she truly was my best friend.
Lucy went with me to my AA meeting the next day. I don't think I would've been able to go if she hadn't dragged me with her because I was terrified to announce to a whole group of people that, despite claiming to have gone months without drinking, I was one day sober.
The first six months, we celebrated every single day of my sobriety because they said every milestone was important, and Lucy thought it was dumb that I needed to wait thirty days to be recognized for what I was doing. After I got my six-month chip, we started celebrating every week.
Do you remember that glass jar with those random-ass things in it that sits on my dresser? That's my sobriety jar. I don't even remember what I told you when you asked. I can tell you the truth now.
Every time Lucy and I celebrate, we get some kind of memento. My very first one was a rock that Lucy insisted was shaped like a guitar outside of my AA meeting. There's a little plastic frog from when we went to the arcade, a piece of confetti from when we accidentally crashed a wedding, a dead blade of grass from a walk we went on, this little saber from when we went to this make your own fudge place. Something small from every milestone that we've celebrated. It's a big part of how I stayed sober. The chips… are great and all, but those little things are a reminder that I'm not alone. They're a reminder that there are ways to feel happy other than by drinking.
It was almost two months before anyone other than Lucy would know how long I'd been sober. My parents thought I'd been sober since my accident, and Derek thought it had been a few months. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I'd been working through the steps. The steps are hard, Victor. They're the hardest thing I've ever done.
I was skeptical when they were first explained to me because so many of the steps have to do with God. Step 1: Admit you have a problem; Step 2: Believe God can cure you. It's not actually what the step said but that's pretty much how it was described to me.
Hank helped a lot. Lucy and I both thought that I'd start taking the meeting seriously and would be assigned a sponsor… that is not how it works. It was almost as hard as going to the meetings. It was essentially up to me. I had to scope out my options and try to figure out who would be the best person to guide me through sobriety, and then I had to be the one to ask someone which is all kinds of messed up when you think about it; I don't think I was in a place to be making any good decisions at that point, but I got really lucky.
I honestly thought it was a lost cause at the beginning. I was going to multiple meetings a week – some just to learn more about the steps, some that were specifically for people new to AA, some that were chances to meet people interested in being sponsors, some that were open to everyone, some just because getting sober is the hardest and shittiest thing I've ever had to do and when it got too hard I could talk about it at a meeting. A lot of times, AA kind of felt a little like going to the first day of school over and over again. Lucy went with me when she could, but sometimes, I had to do them on my own.
That's how I met Hank. We struck up conversation over crappy coffee. I'd been working at Brasstown since the school year started and I considered myself to be an expert by that point; I was already Assistant Manager because I was somehow the employee that had been there the longest. I made him coffee and… I honestly don't remember exactly what I said. Probably something about how I was a coffee connoisseur because I was really nervous. He started to tell me about his life, and I knew. We had almost nothing in common, but I felt like I clicked with him. He was kind, and I didn't feel like he judged me when he found out I was only seventeen. When I asked him to be my sponsor, he didn't hesitate.
I had no idea what a sponsor was, but Hank's daily check-ins and reminders that I was doing a good job meant everything to me. He and Lucy were my team. They definitely wanted me to be sober more than I wanted to be sober (at first; I eventually found that in myself), and it was enough of a reason for me to keep trying.
It was also the first time we talked about why I drank. Up to that point, everyone had been so focused on the fact that I was drinking. My parents had asked me once, but they never asked me again, and it's probably for the best because I don't think they would've liked my answer.
Because the truth is that everything caused me to drink because, even before I started drinking, I was anxious and depressed all the time. I always felt like I was one step behind everyone else and it rippled into every aspect of my life.
My parents made me want to drink, school made me want to drink, Lucy made me want to drink, the girlfriends and not-boyfriends made me want to drink, Derek made me want to drink. And, yes, you made me want to drink too.
If I tried to avoid everyone that ever made me want to drink, I would need to be a hermit living by myself in some abandoned cabin deep in the woods. Even then, I think I would've wanted to drink because the problem wasn't everyone else. Yes, certain things made everything more difficult to manage, but at the end of the day, it was my anxiety and depression that made me want to drink. To identify another person as that reason meant I got to take the responsibility off of myself, but it also stopped me from owning my actions and choices.
Hank helped me find a balance. He helped me acknowledge that I'd made the decisions I made while also recognizing the hundreds of things that happened that led me to those decisions. It helped me start to identify them before it got to that point, and I could remove myself from a situation or use some of the coping skills I learned in AA or in the therapy that I finally started to take seriously – Melinda getting pregnant was great for her but really sucked for me because I had to discontinue therapy, and it happened right when I was actually starting to make progress. I'd talked to my dad about finding someone new and his reaction had been, "aren't you getting better?" I didn't know what to say to that, so I lied and said that I was fine.
The thing is, there were some people that always triggered me. Derek and my parents and a random classmate being the primary ones.
I can't explain the classmate, not even a little bit. All I can say is that, to this day, there's something about him that instantly puts me on edge. He doesn't even have to speak.
I couldn't escape how my parents made it so difficult for me to come out and all the small microaggressions from when I was younger that convinced me I needed to be straight and that I needed to be better than I was to deserve their love. I still don't think I've fully forgiven them for all that. It was like they wanted me to be successful, but in their way, not in mine. The art I worked on created a big mess or took up too much space; my guitar was too loud; I cared too much about music and not enough about the "important stuff". It messed with my head for a really long time. Sometimes it still does.
I felt like I was always doing something wrong with Derek because we were fighting all the time. Most of the time, we weren't fighting about real stuff. Like, one time, it was right after some stupid argument about how much I was working. He couldn't possibly be upset about it because he knew I had that job to pay back my parents, but it was an easy fight to pick, and both of us picked it.
Hank was the first person to try to help me figure all of that out; he was also the first one to tell me that I didn't need to believe in God to recover, but I did need to believe in something. It didn't matter if that something was God with a capital G, some other god, the universe, him. He said that I couldn't do it on my own and that I shouldn't have to; it was important for me to let something or someone else help me carry some of my struggle.
Around Christmas, Hank started to talk to me about apologizing to my parents. I was still on step 4: make a moral inventory of yourself. I didn't feel like I could do it without risking my sobriety, and I was encouraged to take my time with it. I guess you could say this is my step 4… and my step 5 since that's to tell another person. I don't know if this counts.
Amends were… steps 8 and 9, and I was quick to point out to Hank that I was nowhere near there. He looked me in the eye and said, "I'm not talking about the steps right now." It surprised me because I felt like we were always talking about the steps. He told me that we'd spent a month talking about how guilty I felt for what I'd done to Derek and my parents and for everything I put them through and for the very fact that I was hiding the truth about my progress from them. He told me that I didn't need to tell them everything if I wasn't ready to, but if I was stuck, I should really consider telling them how long I'd actually been sober and apologize for lying to them the past month and a half.
The choice ultimately fell on me, but in the month I'd known him, Hank had become one of the people that I trusted most in this world, so I listened to him… eventually.
I told my parents first on New Year's Eve. I was supposed to hang out with Derek, but we'd gotten into a fight the night before. I don't even remember what it was about, but we'd decided that we needed some space, so I was reining in New Year's with my parents.
I expected them to be angry, but my mom kept saying that she didn't care that I lied. It didn't matter; all that mattered to her was that I was finally getting healthy.
Then she went out, somehow found a bakery that was still open, and had them write "Happy 55!" on the cake. They probably thought it was a last-minute birthday cake, but my mom had counted a dozen times to make sure she had the right number. On New Year's Eve, I was 55 days sober. The last time I'd been 55 days sober was before I had my first sip of beer at Kyle's 4th of July party the summer before I started sixth grade.
I pulled up a calendar to confirm and everything because I could not believe I'd been sober for 55 days. In a lot of ways, it felt like it had been so much longer. It had been 55 days of relearning about who I was and finding the will to get through long, agonizing nights and trusting that I could lean on Hank or Lucy. In even more ways, it didn't feel like it had been 55 days. I mean, I obviously knew time was passing because I got my 30-day chip and I had a whole jar of mementos that I'd collected with Lucy, but I think I'd avoided trying to put a number to how long I'd been sober.
I was worried that I would fall down the rabbit hole of thinking that I wasn't progressing fast enough or like time was moving too slow or something, but 55? That wasn't a small amount of time. I was proud of myself. When I texted Lucy, she just showed up at our New Year's Eve celebration. She walked right in my front door, put one of those blowers in my mouth, and said that 55 days was way more important than New Year's.
My mom hugged Lucy for about ten minutes. "Thank you for saving my son." That's what she said to her.
Lucy insisted it wasn't her and that I was the one that put in all of the work. She was right, but I think my mom had a point too. I think it always had to be Lucy. Lucy is… different. She stays away from stupid bullshit, and she doesn't try to hide how she's feeling. When she says something's wrong, it's not an exaggeration. I don't think I would've trusted anyone else if they told me I had a problem. It had to be her.
Telling my parents went so well, and I knew it was not going to go that well with Derek. I mean, I'd been about 50/50 with my parents and was pleasantly surprised, but I knew Derek, so I put it off for a few weeks. I finally told him after the winter carnival. He wouldn't be caught dead at the carnival, but he picked me up so we could grab a late dinner afterward.
Not that we ever made it to dinner. For all of the fights I got into with my parents and how weird things had been since I came out to them, they immediately supported me when I told them the truth. They thought it was more important that I got sober than how long it took me to get there.
Derek didn't feel that way. We had the biggest fight of our relationship that night… well, the biggest fight until we'd break up which was really saying something because I thought almost killing myself while driving drunk set a pretty unattainable bar. I know I'm saying it a lot, but it's actually getting a little easier to admit that I did that. Maybe it's because you know just about everything now, or maybe it's just because I'm saying it out loud, and I'm starting to hear myself. Everyone at AA always said the more I talked about it, the easier it would get, but I figured that was just something they were saying to make me feel better about how impossible it felt to talk about it.
Derek was pissed. He couldn't believe that I'd kept lying to him. I didn't know yet that that was kind of the beginning of the end… if you could ever consider us started, that is. I think the argument could be made that we never had a real relationship. How could we have? I spent months drunk, then months hiding that I was drunk, then months hiding that I was sober. He spent months making me feel like I owed him for staying with me as if it was some selfless and heroic move on his part. That's not a real relationship; that is a toxic relationship built on mutual manipulation and lies.
I really don't think it was all bad before that, but we never came back from it. We probably should have broken up that night, but we were stuck in a cycle. We'd fight, promise we were done fighting, then fight again. I can't speak for Derek, but I convinced myself that the good parts of our relationship justified the bad, and for a while they did.
And then, Victor, I'm not sure if you caught onto this, but my relationship with Derek would soon be put to a test it would not survive. Because the next day, you walked into Brasstown for an interview.