Hi everybody! First of all, I apologize for the long hiatus. I'm finally awaiting graduation (and I did suffer from a little writer's block). This isn't a long one but I hope it makes up for lost time. I'll be entering law school soon but I'll try my hardest to get back to posting new chapters.
Anyway, I knew from the day I wrote the first chapter that I wanted to integrate a relapse storyline. I enjoyed reading your reviews and seeing your reactions to it on twitter (Unfortunately, I have since deactivated that account)
Again, thank you for your generosity and for supporting this fic. This week's chapter will pick up right where we left off and deal with the aftermath. Happy reading!
Saturday, October 31, 2020
Heavy breathing, his own heart pounding against his chest. He has lost count of how many glasses of scotch he has consumed.
The familiar buzz feeling is back, and he hates how much he missed it. He closes his eyes and allows the alcohol to penetrate his system further. A few moments later, he starts hearing someone mumbling.
"I told you it was too soon."
He immediately recognizes her voice. He turns around too quickly, which adds to his already dizzy state.
"No, he can do this."
It's another voice, a man's. It's Jason.
"No, he can't. Look at him!"
He looks to his left and sees two blurry figures standing about six feet away. He's hallucinating again, but he doesn't know that yet. "Donna?" He breathes, confused as to what he is seeing.
"I never should've left him." Donna's voice cracks.
"Harvey, listen to my voice." Jason says, "Put the glass down and fight it."
"Jason." Harvey groans as his knees start to give up on him. He uses the palm of his right hand to hit his temple a few times, trying his best to stay awake.
"Fight it, Harvey. You can do this. Fight it." Jason says again.
Regret starts sinking in, but it's too late. "I'm sorry." He says to both of them, but the words come out in slurs.
He accidentally loses grip on the glass, causing it to fall and shatter into a dozen pieces.
And then came the white noise.
"Fuck." He mumbles as he recognizes the familiar feeling of intoxication, acknowledging that he has made another mistake.
His eyes start rolling back as he loses consciousness and falls sideways. The side of his face meets the cold hardwood floor.
Donna's "Harvey!" is the last thing he hears before closing his eyes and surrendering to the darkness.
.
Donna is scrolling through her contacts while dragging her luggage behind her on her way out of the airport. She stops at Bay 6 and hails a cab after her fourth try. The driver helps her load her stuff into the trunk, and they begin their journey to her apartment.
She sighs in relief after reaching her door. As much as she wants to unpack and get everything over with, she doesn't have the energy to. All she wants is to soak herself in a warm bath with a glass of Merlot in hand.
She draws herself a bath and drops one of her favorite rose-scented bombs. Before she undresses, she takes her phone and dials Harvey's number. It doesn't ring; instead, it goes straight to voicemail.
"Hey Harvey, I just arrived at my place. I know I said I'd come right over, but I'm a little tired from the trip, so I'll pay you a visit tomorrow, okay? Call me when you get this. Happy Halloween."
Her robe drops to the floor, and she dips herself into the tub she has been thinking about for the last six hours.
.
Sunday, November 1, 2020
A series of unwelcomed buzzes wakes her from her sleep. Mistaking it for an alarm she forgot to disable, Donna taps a red button causing the buzzing to stop. She puts the phone back on her bedside table and falls asleep.
The buzzing comes back thirty seconds later. Donna opens her eyes and tries to shut it off but it isn't an alarm, it's a phone call.
"Marcus?" Donna answers sleepily.
"Hey, Donna. Did I wake you?''
She looks at the time on her phone, it's 9 am. "No, I was already up." She lies, "What can I do for you?"
"By any chance, are you with Harvey right now?"
"No. I just got back from LA last night. Why?" She yawns lightly.
"He promised to spend Halloween with us up here in Boston, but he didn't follow through."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that," She sits up and lightly scratches her head, "Did you try calling him?"
"Yeah, a bunch of times, but he's not answering any of my calls. It all just goes straight to voicemail." He says, his voice laced with concern.
Donna furrows her brows and pouts her lips. "Let me see if I can reach him. I'll call you right back."
"Thanks, Donna. Happy Halloween.'
"Happy Halloween."
The phone call ends, and Donna leaps from her bed to get ready to go to Harvey's place. She's not necessarily worried, Harvey was never great with the phone. It could be anything, really. She thinks to herself. He could be out jogging, at an AA meeting, or out with Jason; they seem to be hanging out more often.
If it were up to her, she wouldn't be worried. She sends Marcus a text before leaving.
Hey, Marcus. I'm on my way there now. Pretty sure it's nothing though. I'll call you when I'm with him.
.
Donna nods at the doorman, who opens the cab door for her. She flashes him a pretty smile, and he tips his hat toward her. She's not in a hurry. In fact, she even stopped by a bakery and bought them a couple of everything bagels they could have for breakfast.
The elevator dings and the door opens to Harvey's floor. Donna makes her way to his door, unaware of the trouble that awaits her inside.
"Harvey?" She calls him as soon as she enters. It doesn't look like he left as she spots his coat still on the rack. She looks to her right and makes her way past the kitchen, and that's when she sees what appears to be his lifeless body near his bedroom.
"Harvey! Oh my god!" She drops her bag and keys and runs towards him. She gets on her knees and starts shaking him. "Harvey! Harvey! Wake up!"
His lips are pale, and his complexion is dull. Her heart sinks down to her stomach. She looks around and sees a broken scotch glass with trace amounts of liquor in it, tears immediately flood her eyes.
He did it.
He relapsed.
She pulls him onto her lap and cups his face, begging him to wake up. "Harvey! Look at me, Goddamnit!"
She pulls her phone from her back pocket and dials 911. "Harvey, please, please no." She cries as she cradles him, hoping she isn't too late.
"911, what's your emergency?"
But just as 911 picked up, his eyes fluttered open, and he groaned lightly. Donna drops her phone.
"Harvey…" She whispers, feeling both anxious and hopeful. She hears him trying to say her name, she shushes him.
"Harvey, stay with me. What happened?" The operator's faint voice can still be heard but she drowns it out, too concerned and scared to do anything else but hold him close to her.
His consciousness comes and goes. He's weak and dehydrated but finds enough strength to mumble the following words that will haunt Donna for the rest of her life.
"Donna…" He trails, doing his best to stay awake but his body fails him. The last thing he says before he passes out again is "You were gone."
.
It's fourteen hours later. Harvey is on his bed asleep, next to him is a vitamin drip stand that he is hooked up to. Afraid that a new medical record could aggravate his recent run-in with the law, Donna decided to call a private Doctor to check up on him. The Doctor gave him a lot of fluids to wash out the toxins in his body then replaced it with a vitamin drip to help him regain strength quickly and lessen chances of horrible alcohol withdrawal.
She's standing in the middle of his laundry room, one hand on her hip, the other is holding onto the washing machine. She's staring blankly at the wall, motionless and emotionless. She has been through too much in the last couple of hours to even think about having a breakdown.
While the Doctor and his nurses were doing what needed to be done, she decided to clean up after him. His place was a mess, she didn't understand why. His laundry hamper was piling up, he had dishes that weren't soaked, and a line of brown dust was lifted from the vinyl shelf she ran a finger through.
He doesn't deserve the cleaning she's doing for him, but it's all Donna can do to keep herself busy.
She doesn't want to feel. She's sick of Feeling.
So now she trapped herself in this windless laundry room, machine sounds drowning out the sorrow in her soul, too tired to even drink a glass of water.
She asks herself how she got here but doesn't linger too long on the thought. She is so fucking tired. Of life, of him, of everything.
The ground swallowing her whole could be the best thing for her right now.
On the other side of the apartment, Harvey is finally regaining consciousness. He has woken up from time to time, only to throw up either on the floor or on the nurse tending to him. He has no recollection of such events.
The moon hangs low, the only light in his room is a dimly-lit lamp. He raises his right arm and sees that he's hooked up to some yellow-looking fluid. He squints in confusion, then suddenly he sees flashes of vague memories.
Him filling scotch glasses with brown liquor. Him passing out. Donna holding his face in her palms. Nurses pacing in his bedroom.
He remembers.
He quickly gets up, which was a mistake because he gets dizzy for a couple of seconds, eyes seeing black. He shakes his head then regains clarity in his vision. He looks around the room but sees no trace of her.
Harvey hears a subtle rustle coming from the laundry room, he peels the medical adhesive from the back of his hand and winces as he removes the needle. A small amount of blood streams down but he doesn't care, he needs to see her.
He weakly makes his way to the laundry room and sees her. She doesn't move an inch, the cream-colored wall holding her stare.
"Donna?" He asks. She hears him but doesn't turn to him. "Donna…" He says as he softly touches her elbow to break her from her trance. She turns her head to face him but gives him no expression. Her eyes dart down to the sight of bright red fluid dripping down his hand.
"You're bleeding." She says nonchalantly. And then suddenly, a rush of anger courses through her veins. "You never fucking do as you're told." She says as she grabs a white cloth fresh from the dryer and throws it at him. If this were any other day, she'd be tending to the needle wound with cotton balls drenched in hydrogen peroxide.
Today is not one of those days.
Harvey, puzzled by her behavior, pats the cloth on his hand to rid himself of his own blood. He tosses the cloth in the hamper. "You're mad." He says softly, she stares at the wall again.
"Of course, I'm mad.. I'm fucking pissed off." She says, almost laughs. She shakes her head in disbelief, Is he really this naive? He lets another minute pass, thinking she might have anything more to say but to his surprise, she says nothing.
"Then say it, goddamnit, don't give me the silent treatment."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because it's unlike you. you've always spoken your mind."
"Well then, forgive me for trying to hold my tongue from saying things that could…"
"That could what? Donna, talk to me."
That could hurt him.
She bites her inner cheek then turns to him slowly. Her eyes are dark with anger. Her voice is low and frightening. "Before I left, I asked you if you could handle being by yourself for a couple of weeks and what did you say?"
He sighs. He knows where this conversation is going now. He wants to kick himself in the balls because he could've just given her time to cool off but instead he poked the bear.
"Harvey, what did you say?" She asks sternly. He looks away, embarrassed.
"You promised me. You promised me you'd…" She halts, taking in a breath. She tries to calm herself down before she exposes her most vulnerable thoughts to him. "What if I hadn't arrived in time? What if you'd gotten into another accident?"
Harvey looks at her, voice laced with regret. "But you did, and I didn't."
"But you could have, Harvey! Don't you get it?" She screams, voice cracking with rage. "I walked through that door and thought I saw you lifeless on your own fucking floor!"
"Donna…"
"You can't keep doing this, Harvey." She stressfully runs her hands through her hair. "Your sobriety can't depend on me. You can't keep falling apart every time I'm not around. Do you know how much sleep I lose over this? Are you even trying to get better?" Anger is long gone from her tone, her delivery is much more emotional now, which strikes another arrow through Harvey's chest.
Guilty and apologetic, he lowers his voice. "You know I am."
"And what makes this even more frustrating is that you don't even realize how your actions affect not only yourself but everyone else around you. People love you, Harvey. They care about you, and they worry about you." She reassures him, hoping it'll do something to him.
"I know that."
"Do you? Because it seems to me like you don't give a shit about anything anymore, and it's scaring the crap out of me." She says, voice breaking, and so is his heart.
"Hey, Donna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry." He tries to touch her but she flicks his hand away.
Tears roll down her face now, finally giving in to the emotions she tried to bury for half a day. "You could've died, and it would've been on me."
It was so hard for her to say that. The culmination of two of her biggest fears, in one sentence, and it almost became a reality. She buries her face in her hands and sobs the hardest she has ever sobbed in a long time. Harvey rushes to her and hugs her from behind as she refuses to look at him. He rests his chin on her shoulder and shushes her, gently cradling her slender frame.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Forgive me, Donna." He places a kiss on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
She continues to sob so he holds her until she stops.
.
Tuesday, November 3, 2020
"Donna Paulsen for Dr. Adrian Canning?"
Donna smiles at the kind receptionist. It's 8:30 in the morning. She's actually thirty minutes early because she has been running on only seven hours of sleep within the last 72 hours.
"Is this your first session with Dr. Canning?"
"Yes."
"Alright. Please fill up these forms." Donna is handed a board with two sheets of paper and a black pen. "Dr. Canning will be right with you, he's just finishing up his session with a patient."
"Sounds good. Thank you."
She picks up a couple of magazines laid out on the table and sits on the bench. She goes through them quickly so she picks up some of the mental health pamphlets displayed at the counter.
Donna is pretty self-aware. She knows she's strong but she also knows when to ask for help.
She broke down two days ago in Harvey's laundry room. It had to be her biggest breakdown to date. The feeling of sorrow and anger and fear battling for dominance in her body nearly destroyed her. She didn't calm down until an hour later when tears were no longer being formed, that's how dehydrated she was.
So she booked a double session with Dr. Canning. Because she needs help too.
"Miss Paulsen? Dr. Canning will see you now."
Donna picks up her handbag and gives the receptionist a small smile. She lightly knocks on the door before she enters.
"Good afternoon, Miss Paulsen." Says Dr. Canning. He's a psychiatrist in his early 50s and was referred to Donna by her former therapist in LA.
"Donna, please, Dr. Canning." She insists.
"In that case, call me Adrian." He smiles then gestures to the couch across from him. "Please, take a seat." She thanks him then makes herself comfortable.
He quickly scans through the form she filled out while waiting for her turn. "Have you ever gone to therapy before?"
"Yes, briefly." She answers confidently.
"How long ago?"
"Six months ago. I moved to LA on a whim because of… complicated issues." She said those last two words with an embarrassed smile.
"And you stopped?" He asks.
"Yes."
"Can I ask why?"
She takes a deep breath then exhales slowly. "I didn't think I needed it anymore."
It was true. At the time, she really did think she had gotten over Harvey. Of course it was just a brief feeling of freedom and independence. Medically speaking, she never should have stopped therapy until her doctor cleared her.
"Okay, I respect that." His eyes dart down to her hands and purses his lips. "I noticed since we started talking that you like fidgeting with your fingers."
Donna quickly glances down at what he is referring to and stops. "Yeah," she breathes, "I do that often."
"It's a sign of discomfort and anxiety. Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"No!" She assures him, " I, uh, just don't know where to start."
"How about at the beginning?" Dr. Canning gives her a warm smile.
She looks around the room, nerves starting to settle in. "Like my childhood or the beginning of my current problem?"
"Whatever you're comfortable sharing. Though I can already tell by the tone of your voice that both have a lot to unpack."
"Yes," she chuckles nervously. Donna takes a deep breath and then closes her eyes as she exhales. "I'll go with the latter."
"Please." Dr. Canning leans forward, takes a pen and his pad from the coffee table in front of him, and leans back in his seat.
"Twelve years ago, I walked up to this man at a bar…"
.
Today is the same as any other day. Fucking AA day.
Ray drops him off at the entrance of the building Harvey swears is Hell on Earth.
He didn't feel like coming today, not really seeing the point of having to do this when he has already learned his lesson. Don't drink and drive, blah blah blah. He walks up to the guard and says the password. "Poker Game." and the door swings open for him.
There are less people today than usual, he can tell that about a quarter of the regular attendees aren't here. He heads to the snack bar and pours himself a cup of scorching hot coffee.
Jason approaches him from behind, he places a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. How are you doing? How was your weekend?"
Jason has always had this jolly and happy-go-lucky aura about him. To some people, he's a total ray of sunshine. To Harvey, however, nothing about that could annoy him more.
"I drank." Harvey said coldly. He could've been more gentle about it, sure. The thing is, Harvey doesn't care much about Jason or this stupid meeting to do that. Better to be direct than waste time and breath lying about what truly happened.
"You drank." Jason slowly repeats his words back to him. His hand slithers from his shoulder and he crosses his arms in disappointment. "I'm sorry to hear that. Can I ask what triggered it?"
Annoyed by what he feels like is an intrusion of his privacy, Harvey shakes his head.
"I get it," Jason says, "You're not one to share."
"Jason, I'm sorry if I come across as–"
"I know you don't take AA seriously." Jason cuts him off. "It's beneath you, right?"
Gone is the jolly southern old man. Jason's face couldn't be a clearer indication of his feelings. He is insulted by Harvey's constant mockery of a community that has done wonders for his life and the lives of other people. For Harvey to downplay his addiction and be in deep denial of having something wrong with him is tolerable. However, Jason draws the line at disrespecting the program that helped him get back on his feet.
"I know you're here just to get your little attendance stamps. But this is a real community, son. Alcoholism is a real problem, every single person in this room suffers from it. Most of them are big shots just like yourself. The only difference between them and you is that they're trying to get their lives back on track. You don't have to share, Harvey. But remember, the first step to addressing a problem is admitting there is one. That doesn't make you weak, it makes you brave." Jason says in a firm tone.
Jason takes a chocolate chip cookie from the pile and sits in his usual seat. The moderator rings a bell and everyone else follows Jason's lead. Too ashamed to sit next to the man who just put him in his place, Harvey sits at the last row of chairs, hoping his seat is far enough from the podium so he doesn't hear everybody else talk about their struggles.
A person walks up and starts sharing. As per usual, Harvey drowns their voices out by thinking of something else. Baseball, Donna, literally anything else but how miserable these people and their lives are.
But then he starts hearing voices again.
His mother's.
Donna's.
Marcus'.
Mike's.
Their previous conversations swirling around in his head, telling him to get better. To do better. To be better.
He stays in this trance for so long, he hadn't realized how many people have gone up and shared while he stayed seated and buried in his thoughts. Another ring from the moderator's bell brings him back to the real world.
"We have time for one more. Can we have another volunteer?" She asks, looking around the room.
Harvey slowly raises his hand. The embarrassment, the shame, the guilt, everything is piling up and eating away at his insides.
He is part of this community now. He has to do his part.
He wants to be a better person. Live a better life. Build better relationships with the people around him. Maybe this is the first step to doing just that.
He walks up to the front and places a shaky hand on the podium to steady himself. The moderator offers him a tray of accomplishment chips. He takes a "Day 1" chip and closes his fist around it.
It's a good thing there aren't that many attendees today, it helps with the nerves.
It's funny how he can stand in a courtroom with hundreds of people watching him and he barely breaks a sweat. But right now, looking at about thirty people, is making his knees weak. He has never felt more vulnerable or exposed. Little did he know this was just what he needed to have a fresh start.
Jason gives him a small smile and an encouraging nod. He knows how hard taking the first step is for anybody, but especially someone like Harvey. Harvey nods back and takes a deep breath.
"Hi, I'm Harvey." He says, voice quivering with fear as he finally admits for the first time, "And I'm an alcoholic."
Thanks for tuning in to this update, folks! Like I said, I'm no longer on twitter so please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section. As always, constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome! See you soon!