~ Chapter 12: Now You Know ~

I want to be the Benji you think you've been dating. The Benji that you think is so patient and honest and wise and confident. I want that so badly, Victor, but I'm not that guy. I've just done a really good job tricking everyone. I never gave you the chance to get to know the real me, did I?

I want to be someone that I can be proud of and you can be proud of. Right now, he's some other Benji. A Benji that doesn't have the baggage I have, the history I have, the insecurities I have. I have a lot of work to do on myself before I can be that Benji, but I think I can get there. I want to get there.

I can see what I need to do differently now. I feel like I've spent so much time convincing myself that other people can fix my problems. When we first started dating, you made me feel so good, and it kind of seemed like none of the bad stuff existed when we were together. I actually believed that was enough, but I'm starting to realize that wasn't fair to either of us. I need to stop trying to let other people fix me, and I need to figure out how to work on myself and be satisfied with the life I have.

The problems we've had? They're not fully your fault, and they're not fully my fault. To some extent, they're bigger than both of us. You shouldn't have to be afraid of whether a fight or something you say will push me over the edge and… I shouldn't be afraid of that either. I thought I've been dealing with this, but I haven't.

The thing is, I am not one year and sixteen days sober today, I wasn't one year and fifteen days sober yesterday, and I haven't been one year and any days sober in a while. My count stopped on my birthday. I fell back into that pattern like alcohol was my old friend. In the past year, I honestly forgot how good it felt and how much it created a sense of stability in my life.

Remember how I said that my parents want me to be different? Well, that means that they don't want me to be an alcoholic, so they pretend I'm not. They stopped locking the liquor cabinet around when I was six months sober. They said it was a sign of their trust in me, and if my parents were different people, I would have believed that. I know that, to them, it's proof that my alcoholism isn't a problem. Benji can be around alcohol. He can handle it. We trust you not to take anything. The thing is, they were wrong. Even when they first did it, I couldn't handle that. I spent a lot of nights at Lucy's house because I needed to be away from that access. Maybe if I'd talked to my parents about this more or let them in earlier, they would have understood why I wasn't in a place to see that as a sign of trust, but I doubt it.

I never should have been able to go to my dad's liquor cabinet after we got home from dinner. It should have been harder for me to find something to start drinking again. It's not a matter of trust; it's a matter of them recognizing that I will always be an alcoholic, and I don't know if they'll ever accept that. I have. This time, I really understand that I'll never be able to drink again, but I think I needed to have this relapse to realize that.

It's still not their fault. I'm bitter that they made it so easy, but I probably would have figured out how to get something regardless. I think part of me knew that I was going to drink the moment you walked away from me. Because, like I said, I'd been letting other people carry me since I started getting sober. Lucy carried me, then Derek carried me, then you carried me.

After my birthday dinner, I took a bottle of rum from the cabinet and went right to my room. For a while, I alternated between taking it out and putting it back into my end table.

I argued with myself for a long time. It's important to me that you know I didn't throw away a whole year of sobriety without thinking about it. I agonized over it and went back and forth trying to figure out what I wanted to do.

What harm was one little drink? As long as I didn't take it too far, there really wasn't anything that could happen. One drink wouldn't kill me. I wouldn't drive; I wouldn't even leave my room. It would just be enough to take the edge off. I took it out of the drawer.

I'd been sober so long. I thought about everything I'd been through in the past year. Everything that Lucy and Hank had done for me, how hard I had worked, what I'd put everyone I loved through, how I'd hurt you with my secrecy. Did I want to throw all of that away? I put it back in the drawer.

I was doing so much better. Just because other people had to completely stop drinking that didn't mean I did. After all, how many of them had been teenage alcoholics? Maybe, because I was so young, I could find a balance. Maybe I could control the alcohol instead of the other way around. I took it out of the drawer.

Did I really want to have to start over? I didn't know if I'd be able to drink in moderation, but was it really worth the chance that I couldn't? Was it worth spiraling just to make it harder and harder to pull myself back together? I put it back in the drawer.

I had an entire, lonely night ahead of me… a night without you. I was pretty sure we were going to break up. I'd said some truly awful things; things I didn't even mean. How were we supposed to come back from that? I took it out of the drawer.

You would be more disappointed than anyone if I drank. I didn't want to let you down again. It had been a mistake to keep this from you. I wished I could go back and tell you over the summer. I almost did once. We got invited to that fourth of July party, and you turned it down because you didn't want to have to pretend that we weren't together, and you didn't want to be out to our classmates yet. It was the perfect chance to tell you that I didn't want to go because I don't drink, and instead, I let you make the excuses, and we never talked about it. I've always felt guilty about that. I shouldn't have let you think that you were the only reason we weren't going. I put it back in the drawer.

I relived our fight over and over again. I relived the guilt over the stupid things I said to you. Our fight had escalated so quickly, and it was all my fault. I let my embarrassment and shame and how much I hated everything about my alcoholism influence what I said. I said exactly what I knew would hurt you; I was desperate to escape my feelings, so I lashed out. I knew that my words would cut deep because you'd told me that you wished that everything wasn't so new and big to you. It hadn't been easy for you to talk about, and it was cruel of me to use it against you. I just wanted someone else to hurt as much as I was hurting. That's what I mean when I say I'm the worst. I really am because I shouldn't have wanted to hurt my favorite person in the world. But I did. I took it out of the drawer.

I heard my mom saying, "I can't believe you'd embarrass me like that, Benjamin." She hadn't said that last year when I got in my accident or when I started AA or when she found out I was truly sober. No, she said that to me in the car on the way home. She couldn't believe I'd embarrass her like that. There was no remorse that she'd told you my biggest secret. In my heart, I knew she felt bad, but she'd never admit that. No, she did what she always did when she couldn't cope with something, and she made it about herself. I poured some into my cup of orange juice.

I heard my dad saying that I should have told you. He said that I was never going to put that "embarrassment" behind me if I didn't tell the people that needed to know and "get it over with". He didn't understand that this isn't something I'll ever be able to get over. For the rest of my life, I know I'm going to be partially defined by my alcoholism. I have to be. I will always have to take precautions. I will always have to be careful around alcohol, and I need to avoid it completely if I'm anxious or stressed or depressed. My parents will never accept that, and I'm exhausted just thinking about it. I don't want a lifelong struggle. I don't want to be an alcoholic. Just like them, I want to be a normal teenager that can get drunk at parties without it meaning anything. So, I took a leaf out of my parents' book, and I pretended I wasn't. I took my first sip.

And that was it. It was all over because the moment it passed through my lips, I was done. I knew it had been a mistake right away, but as the alcohol took over, I couldn't make myself care. It was glorious. The feeling of the world going quiet. It took surprisingly little. I guess a year without drinking really destroyed my tolerance, but I wasn't complaining.

I didn't think anything could ruin how I felt in that moment. I felt… satisfied; I'd finally done what I'd been depriving myself of for so long and it was undeniably right for a little while. My brain got quiet, and I felt so good. It did exactly what I needed it to do: it made all of my problems fade to the background. Once upon a time, that amount wouldn't even have started my buzz, and now it was enough to get me drunk. All I wanted to do was lay in bed and enjoy it.

I didn't get to because you texted me just as I finished my drink. If I had even suspected that you might ask me to come over, I never would have had that drink, but I mean, what were the odds? I'd been over your place once and that had only been long enough for your mom to pretend to be sick because I was too much for her to handle.

I feel like I sound like I'm trying to make this your fault, and I'm not. It's absolutely not your fault. It's all on me. I chose to drink despite knowing that I have a problem. I should have called you and insisted we talk about this or told my parents how miserable they always made me feel or called Lucy or literally done anything but drink. I didn't make those choices, and I'm so sorry that I didn't.

I kept up my promise. After I gargled some mouthwash, I took the bus to your apartment because I wasn't going to drive. I ended up walking home after I left.

You know what happened that night. You were there, and I'm not particularly interested in reliving the disaster that unfolded. The part you didn't know was that I'd been drinking, and now you know. Now you know what you're getting yourself into. You know that alcoholism isn't something in my past. It's something in my present and future.

That's part of the reason I got so upset with you the day after my birthday. Because I knew I'd screwed up, and I didn't know if I would've screwed up that badly if I had been sober. Maybe if I'd been stronger, I would have said the right thing instead of fighting with your mom and outing you to Adrian. I'll never know if things would have gone differently if sober Benji showed up. Maybe sober Benji would've suggested we lock your door so your mom never could have walked in on us or maybe he would have been calmer with your mom.

Then again, maybe not because I never knew what I was doing when it came to your mom. I didn't know how to explain that you being upset over the shit your mom put you through hurt me too. You are the first person I've ever felt like that with, but I mean it when I say that if you hurt, I hurt.

I wasn't ready to feel that way. With Lucy, I could empathize and listen and feel bad for what she was going through, but it wasn't like it felt like I was being hurt by the things that hurt her. Every time we talked about your mom, I… I wish I could explain it. It wasn't like she was doing that stuff to me, but in a weird way, it kind of felt like that. I hated how much she was hurting you, and I had no idea how to help. It was so hard to watch you go through all that, and I didn't want to make it about me, so I didn't tell you. Eventually, I couldn't keep it in, and I started picking fights with you.

I don't want to be scared anymore. I don't want to be scared of me or of you or of how much I love you or how badly I want to drink. I know I can fight this, but it's not going to be pretty. I already feel like stopping is going to be impossible, but I want to stop. I told myself that I'd been going to AA for me for a long time, but I just realized that I think I was lying because I didn't realize until this exact moment that I want to be better. Not for you or my parents or even Lucy but because I think I deserve a happy life, and it's all your fault.

Unfortunately, it's easier said than done.

I've drank every day since my birthday. Forget about that "one last drink" mantra I told myself after my accident; I've been taking in as much as I can. After our fight at Brasstown, I drank. I picked apart everything we said and twisted it and realized that it's all my fault that we fought. I did everything wrong for such a long time. I lied to you; I drank; I outed you to your little brother. You have every reason to hate me and to want nothing to do with me, and I saw it. I think I became to you what Derek had become to me. I became someone that held who you are against you. I never wanted to be that person; I never thought I could be that person. There aren't enough sorrys in the world to make that okay but, trust me, there was enough tequila to make it all go away.

I called Hank the next morning. I planned to be honest with him and tell him that I drank, but when I saw him, I couldn't do it. So, instead, I told him about the disaster that my birthday had been and told him I really wanted to drink. I wonder if he knew. He didn't say anything, and I think he probably would have. Or maybe his fear of accusing me and being wrong was stronger than his instinct. I can sometimes tell when someone's fallen off the wagon, but it's usually because they get this guilty look when they're ready to admit it. I'll probably know tomorrow. I have a lot of tough conversations to have tomorrow. Lucy and Hank and my mom and my dad… maybe. I'm not totally sold on telling my parents.

After we went on our break, I drank. I think that's the first time I drank because of something you did. After my birthday, it was my parents who pushed me over. After our fight, it was my guilt. But that night, it was because I felt like I'd just lost my favorite person. I never thought you'd tell someone about my drinking and, honestly, I'm still having trouble with that. I'm still really freaking pissed off, and I think I have a right to be. What you did doesn't justify my drinking, but I thought it did in the moment. Maybe I would have gotten drunk even if we hadn't fought; maybe you were just my excuse.

I also… weirdly still trust you more than anyone else on this planet. I wish I could explain why. Truly. Because it would make my life so much easier if I understood why I've always felt this absurdly connected to you, but I trust you. When I was writing this note and figuring out what I could tell you, I believed I could tell you everything.

I don't have all of the answers; I'm not even sure what questions you might have, but I hope that I gave you enough for you to have an idea of who I really am right now.

While I wrote this note, I kept picturing how you'd take it. Would you frown when I thought you were going to frown? Would you get that cute smile on your face when I talked about you? Were you going to be disgusted and shocked when I told you I started drinking again? Was I even going to get through all of this or were you going to walk away simply because you'd heard enough and didn't want to know more?

That last one was the only one I felt like I had an answer to. I knew you were going to stay until the end. I knew that I was going to have to be the one who walked away because that's the kind of guy you are. Even if you are justifiably pissed off at me and even if this is the end of us, I know you're gonna stay and listen because you know that's what I need. I love you for that, Vic.

I love you for everything. I love you at your best when you're selfless and kind and calm and patient and funny and forgiving and cute. I love you at your worst when you're quick to anger and overreacting and oblivious. I love you at your in between. I didn't say it enough before but that doesn't change that it's true. I love you. Always.

That's it. That's everything.

Love, Benji

No, Vic. I can't stop there. It would be easy to, but I can't end things like that. I wrote this whole note, and I was going to read it to you at the wedding. That's why it ended there. Except, somehow, so much has happened since I finished that note.

I thought that seeing you with Rahim was proof that I was making a terrible mistake, but then you showed up here tonight. You said that he doesn't mean nothing to you, but I mean more and that you want to be with me. And then you didn't leave when I literally ran away from you. Instead, you followed me and said we needed to talk about this, and you're right. We did need to talk.

When you got here in your cute wedding suit and that dumb smile, you told me that you wanted to give us a chance. You said you know something is broken right now, and you're right. Something is very broken, but it's not just our relationship.

I know you got the point that I've been drinking, but the important one is today. That's the one you're wondering about, right? I know it is because I know you. I drank while I wrote that note. That's why there's nothing in there about it. The drink I had earlier? It really is going to be my last drink. No more.

I'm not drunk right now if you were wondering. I'm not even a little buzzed. I made the choice to tell you this. Alcohol helped me write that note, but it didn't make me read it to you. In case you were worried. Everything I've told you, it's all me.

I drank before the wedding because I thought I needed it to feel brave. I wasn't sure if I could tell you everything I needed to tell you if I was sober, and I realize that was the problem. I didn't drink much, but I did drink, and I shouldn't have. I don't want to need alcohol anymore, but I think part of me will always feel like I do. The only way to change that is to start making the choice to do the right thing.

I'm starting with this. I told myself I was going to read the whole thing to you. I was going to read every single cringy and awkward and terrifying and anxious word of it. And I mostly did. I want you to know who I am, Vic, even though this is terrifying. Because I don't know who I really am, but I know who I want to be, and I don't want to be the guy that hurts you because he's scared and ashamed.

What I did tonight? It wasn't just for you. This is the first time I've admitted to myself everything that I did and went through. If you ever have the chance, I can't say I recommend it, but I can say that I think it was worth it for me. There are things I wrote about that I've never let myself think about. I've never admitted out loud that I cheated a ton when I was dating girls. I've never admitted out loud how many people I've slept with. I've never admitted out loud how messed up I got or that I started drinking when I was only twelve or that I started drinking again now. I've never let myself see who I really am, and weirdly, I kind of feel like I'm more than the guy I wrote about.

I can't explain how empty I feel right now. I've never felt like I could tell someone my whole story before, and even if that story is too much for you, it's out there now. I'll never have to say all of this out loud for the first time again. I'm grateful that you could be that person.

I don't know what happens next. All I know is that I have to take this one day at a time.

Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will be one day sober. The day after that it will be two, and hopefully it'll keep going. I can't say for sure that I'll never relapse again, but I'm going to try my hardest.

This will be a lifelong battle. I will never not be an alcoholic. It will never be okay for me to drink again. For the rest of my life, I will have to carry this with me and if you want to be with me, you have to carry it too. I hate to say it, but if you're going to be with me, you deserve to know what that means.

Tomorrow, I'll be starting over and if you want, you can start over too. You can start over with Rahim or with some other guy or you can take time for yourself for a while.

I love you, Victor; I don't want to break up, but I'm starting to realize that this is bigger than what I want. I've been doing what I wanted for too long without thinking about how it might hurt you. I don't want us to end; I don't think I've ever wanted anything less in my life. I want to be with you because even if I'm mad at you and you're mad at me, I think we make sense together. I love you so much, but there's not a magical solution to our problems. There's not a magical solution to my problems. There's only the work I can put in to get sober and the work we can put in to talk about the stuff that's been hurting our relationship, so if you're expecting us to get back together and move forward exactly as we had before… that can't happen. I need things to be different.

I need you to know that I might need some space when I'm getting sober. I might be irrationally angry with you for absolutely no reason other than the fact that I can't drink, and I need to take that anger out on someone. I might be angry because I'm embarrassed or ashamed or guilty. I might tell you I want to break up because I feel physically sick for what I might put you through and what I have put you through. It's not going to be pretty. If you think these last few weeks have been rough… that's nothing, Vic. I don't want to be that person, but I've been there before. Maybe you should talk to Lucy. I have no idea how she stayed friends with me, but she'll be able to tell you how much of a nightmare I'm about to be.

It's not fair of me to ask you to wait for me to be able to fully put myself into this relationship. I want to, Victor. I really want to. More than I want anything, but I can't ask you to do that. All I can say is that I'm not moving on, and I'm not breaking up with you. I'm too selfish and too in love to break up with you, which really does make me the shittiest boyfriend in existence. I have some stuff to figure out, and you need to figure out if you can deal with that stuff with me. I want to decide that you'll be fine with this, and we will be able to start to work on us while I'm working on me, but I can't force you into that life. It's truly your choice and whatever you decide, I'll understand, and I'll be okay.

You know everything you need to know, so now it's your turn. Take some time and when you figure it out, let me know.

If you can't be with me, I'll understand. I know that I'm a lot, and you know everything now. Even if you think we shouldn't be together, I'm glad I told you. No matter what, I will never regret anything we went through because it brought me here. Thank you, Vic. Truly.

Thank you.