Surprise: an update!
This a bit shorter than usual, but it needed to be standalone. The next chapter would completely ruin this if I shoved them into one.
All the Alison feels.
A fog settled over Alison as a black veil distorted her view of her friends and all of the attentive faces in the crowd. The words pouring from her mouth somehow formed complete sentences as her fragmented stream of consciousness bulldozed over her prepared speech. Although she spoke clearly, her hearing drifted in and out of focus like a siren screaming loudly then fading to a whisper then slowly crescendoing to a wail.
She remembered explaining her relationship with Duncan and the reasons she locked away her doubts for so long. Safety, loyalty and being loved trumped all the desires she suppressed so she didn't feel an emptiness. She described his support through her recovery and how she realized that obligation kept her faithful.
After sharing what she assumed to be far too much detail, she teleported the group to her past and the origins of her drinking problem. Feeling slightly more confident, the haze lifted and she saw every eye focused on her. She saw no judgement or pity, just a sincere empathy and traces of hope.
"I never was much of a binge drinker," she sighed. "I threw up too much. Lying like a pathetic animal on a bathroom floor only reminded me that I had a problem. So, I decided to just be tipsy pretty much all the time." Her pointer finger absentmindedly drew circles on the podium as she elaborated, "There might have been a few days I would wait until two or three in the afternoon for my first drink of the day. Oh," she realized, "I guess why I drank so much is important. I umm…" she glanced over at her friends for the look of support that she needed. She wasn't surprised to see Aria on the verge of a tearful breakdown and Spencer now sitting next to the woman and desperately trying to hold her together.
Alison choked back emotions of her own. Recounting the source of her alcoholic spiral involved the two women in front of her, the two women who should have tossed her to the side in high school. "I… I…" she cleared her throat and swallowed her gratefulness threatening to spill out and began, "In high school I was the bitch every girl was afraid of and every popular guy wanted to screw. According to my therapist, I had low self esteem and therefore needed to cut everyone down to feel better about myself." She took a deep breath and huffed shaking her head, "But I think that's bullshit. I think I was just a mean person. Some people are just freakin' mean. These two women," she pointed at Spencer and Aria, "were my only friends and I uhh…" she had to clench her jaw tight and hold her breath to keep from crying. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so alone, yet so loved. "I'm sorry," she apologized to excuse her behavior as she sucked a build up of liquid from her sinuses down to the back of her mouth and swallowed to force it down her throat. "I dragged them around like puppies that I could control and kick around whenever I wanted. I think they stayed with me because I protected them from everyone else. I don't really know." Now Spencer was holding back tears as Aria wept openly but quietly. "I had my good moments," Alison smiled at the two. "I think." Both women nodded at her claim.
"I think it was my junior year in college that I started going off the deep end. My loose reputation—I did sleep with several college age boys and girls in high school—followed me to college. I was stupid enough to think that I could leave that shit in Rosewood. Of course, the rumors of my incessant bullying piggybacked on my 'slut status', as I called it. Then the tables were turned. Everyone figured I could handle cruel jokes and constantly proposed hookups. My friends were at different schools, so I didn't really have anyone to go to so I started drinking. At first it was every other day, then every day, then three or four times a day."
She smiled broadly as she continued, "Then I met this really great girl at the beginning of senior year. She was driven, beautiful and funny. She could always make me laugh. At this point, I was already neck deep in my constant drinking. I was pretty much completely functional, so it wasn't until we got serious that she noticed. Too put it lightly," Alison bit her bottom lip as if it pained her just to think of it. "She wasn't happy. She wasn't okay with it. She made it very clear that she couldn't be in a relationship with an alcoholic. Ya know," she smirked and cast her eyes upward, "that was the first time anyone ever called me an alcoholic. I was head over heels in love with her after a few months so I was willing to do anything to keep her at this point.
"She helped me throw out bottles and blah blah. You guys know how it goes," she gestured to the group. Almost every single head bobbed up and down with small smiles reflecting their own experiences. "Of course, I wasn't ready to give up drinking. You can't stop drinking for someone else and I didn't see the problem. I just got a little better at hiding it. And again," she addressed her peers, "you know what I'm talking about: mouthwash, eating strong smelling meals afterwards, wearing strong perfume, and plenty of other things. I went to meetings with her and cried when I thought it appropriate. I thought I had her completely fooled.
"She found my stash a few days after graduation and she went ballistic. I, of course, was basically drunk so I told her everything. She was crying; I was crying. And I remember," a single tear slipped past her defenses, "I remember how terribly guilty she looked. She walked out without an explanation and came back maybe fifteen minutes later. She told me that she was really sorry, but that she couldn't be with someone who refused to help themselves and then she just walked out. About two hours later, Aria," she pointed to the crying brunette, "showed up at my door and Spencer walked in a few hours later." She clasped her hand over her mouth.
Part of her cursed herself for getting so emotional over something that happened so long ago, but when she shoved herself back to those moments where she felt so powerless and broken, her heart couldn't help but crack a little. She dropped her hand from her mouth after composing herself, "My newly ex girlfriend had stepped out to call my friends and tell them to come take care of me. Aria told me that she couldn't leave me without knowing someone was on their way. Anyway," she flattened her palms on the podium, "I won't go into the whole dealing with a breakup thing, but it was during that time that I decided to get my shit together. And… that's also when I met my fiancé. So, we've come full circle." She breathed a sigh of relief. "I hope that standing up here and talking for way too long will keep me from slipping back into morning shots and lunch cocktails and evening mixed drinks." She patted the wooden stand, "That's all I guess. Thanks for listening."
As soon as she stepped away, her vision clouded again. Revealing her darkest times to strangers rendered her as frail as a brown leaf waiting to be crunched by an oblivious passerby. Instead of returning to her seat, she practically stumbled toward the exit with her friends shuffling a few feet behind. When she spotted the door to the ladies' room, she thrust open the door and threw herself into a stall before releasing every ounce of stress and fear. The disgusting sound of her gagging and grunting coupled with the repulsive smell of the vomit forced even more acid out of her stomach and into the fortunately clean porcelain bowl. It wasn't until she came up for air that she felt Spencer's body pressed against her from behind with her hands holding her hair out of her face and Aria's tiny body wedged beside her in the claustrophobic stall.
As Alison struggled to a sitting position and leaned her back against the side of the rectangle box, Aria wiped her lips and chin with rough toilet paper. She tossed it into the toilet and flushed the filth out of sight. "Ali," the small brunette whispered, "here's some water." She floated a plastic bottle near the blonde's shaking hands.
When her physically and emotionally weakened friend didn't move, Spencer, who shifted to sit beside Alison, pressed, "You need to drink. Please. I don't think you want to face-plant onto this floor if you pass out."
A smile stretched her pale lips across her face. Spencer always did know the right motivator. The thought of her face on this floor stirred some left over acid begging to escape her body. She feebly clasped the open bottle Aria offered, settled its lip between her teeth and tipped it upward. The cold liquid snagged bits of leftover putrescence and dragged them across her tastebuds. "Ugh," she choked, "Gross."
"Please don't throw up on me," Aria begged sitting only feet away from her gagging friend.
"I'm doing my best," Alison's face contorted as she took a few more swigs of water. "This throwing up thing was not a part of my plan."
Neither of her friends spoke. The blonde wasn't sure if they didn't know what to say or if they were afraid to push her for more information. Aria pressed her lips together to form her signature look of understanding and Spencer settled a hand on her friend's thigh.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Duncan," Alison mumbled. "I just didn't want to say it twice."
"You brought us here, Ali," Aria reminded. "You did tell us." Taking a closer look at the girl's face, Alison noticed tear tracks staining the girl's cheeks. What would she do without this encouraging, forgiving and hopeful woman?
"You're not the most forthcoming person," Spencer said. "I never expect lengthy speeches about your feelings unless one of us literally drags them out of you. And that's why I love you," she added as she chuckled, "Aria has enough emotion for the three of us. The two of you would sink our friendship boat with your combined tears."
"Hey," Aria resisted. "I'm not that bad."
"Aria," the blonde's eyebrow shot up, "You almost dissolved into a puddle in there. I was afraid Spence was going to have to mop you up."
"That was emotional," the woman defended herself humorously.
Their small laughs subsided within a few seconds and silence once again hung in the air. After a full minute of each woman contemplating their own versions of tonight's events, Spencer commented, "We can try and squeeze ourselves out of this stall."
"I have to break up with him," Ali said.
"We know," Aria nodded. "And we're here for you."
"Do you think I'm right?" the blonde asked desperately. As much as she feared their opinions, these two women earned the right to speak openly regardless of their positive or negative views of her actions.
"Yes," they both replied simultaneously. The two glanced at each other looking surprised that they both felt the same way.
"How could I disagree with you?" Spencer asked. "If you're not in love with him, you'd be cruel to go through with marrying him."
"You're finally being honest with yourself," Aria added. "That's a good thing."
"Duncan just happens to be…" Spencer's voice trailed off.
"The victim," Alison concluded.
"Just one thing, Ali," Spencer offered. "When you break up with him, don't act like he's a dog you hit with your car. That will only make it worse for him."
"Okay," the blonde nodded and said resolutely, "Let's go."
"You want to go home?" Aria asked. "Or you can come to my place."
"No, I wanna see Duncan."
"Right now?" the taller brunette asked in disbelief as she rose to her feet and heaved the other two women up behind her. "You're going to do this right now?"
"Yes," Alison said as she walked to the sink and washed her hands.
"Ali, it can wait," Aria replied. "Maybe you can calm down a little and do it tomorrow."
"No. Tonight. I won't be able to sleep if I wait." She dried her hands with paper towels and strutted out the door. For some reason, bearing her soul, puking up her guts and briefly speaking with her friends resulted in a kind of adrenalin rush. She was determined to finally be honest and let her and Duncan more forward with their own separate lives. She loved him far too much to lie to him for even one more day.
"Okay then," Spencer conceded. "Call him and let him know you're coming."
As the trio piled into Spencer's car, Alison dialed her fiancé and cleared her throat before he answered. "Hey. Can I come over?" He responded in the positive and she smiled to keep her voice from falling, "Good. I'll see you in a few minutes." She hung up before they could exchange the habitual "I love you".
Less than an hour later, they pulled into Duncan's driveway. Alison hesitantly unbuckled. Her resolve had weakened over the course of the car ride. "We'll wait for you," Spencer said looking at Alison in the passenger's seat.
"Thanks," Alison mumbled as her hand clawed for the door handle. When her fingers found the latch, every sound seemed to pelt her eardrums and take on a life of their own. A drum stick whacked the head of a snare drum near her ear when the door clicked open. Aria's final words of encouragement came from a screeching bullhorn. A car smashed into a brick wall when she slammed the car door closed. As her heels clacked on the pavement, a sledgehammer pounded railroad spikes in the rhythm of her strides. The wind rustling leaves in the trees thrust her head into a wind tunnel.
She finally reached the door and raised her fist to knock. Silence. Not a single one of the four raps on the door made a sound. The door swung open to a smiling man offering a warm greeting as her auditory sense returned. "Duncan," she said. "We need to talk."
Spencer and Aria sat in silence only broken a few times by short comments on how the night was unfolding. Maybe five minutes after Ali stepped over the threshold and into Duncan's house, the blonde appeared at the door and closed it quickly behind her. She didn't run to the car, but she didn't walk. Breathing hard, she yanked open the door and pleaded, "Please take me somewhere that's not here."
Alison didn't hear the barrage of questions from her friends. It was done. She had crushed a man's entire world under sharp nude colored heels. He'd barely said a word and asked very few questions. After neither of them uttered a word for a couple of minutes, she retreated to the car and the comfort of her friends. She couldn't stand there with him, wading in the mess she'd made. He didn't seem to want anything from her, so she left him alone with a ring and broken promises. Although her heart throbbed with pain at the loss of someone she loved, her guilt taunted her and convinced her she had no right. Then the one thing she'd shoved so far down into her consciousness she feared it would be lost for months gently drifted to the surface. The thought of Emily roused hope but also fed her guilt. Despite the conflicting emotions, she desperately clung to the idea of the brunette eventually becoming a part of her life, rather than a bystander. She should have trekked through her dark days without pulling Duncan needlessly into her heart. She should have recovered alone. She should have waited for her.