Taking a deep breath, Damon pulls open the door and goes inside. His anxiety level is at its zenith, it's like being hooked up to a cattle fence - not enough voltage to kill but sufficient to keep things uncomfortable. He supposes that's the downside of knowing when things are awry instead of living in blissful ignorance. But what is there to do other than breathe, walk, and figure things out just a little at a time?
He pours himself a cup of coffee and then takes a seat in the back of the room. The meeting opens shortly afterward with the serenity prayer, a reading of the AA preamble, and a daily reflection by the group leader and various other people.
His head snaps to the side when a man takes the seat beside him. Damon acknowledges his presence and takes a swallow from his Styrofoam cup. Everyone then turns their attention to the front of the room when a middle-aged man stands up, greets everyone, and moves to the podium.
"Hello, my name is Jasper. I am 52 years old, and I am a recovering Alcoholic and have been for fifteen years. I started drinking when I was 13 years old, Why you may ask? I have not the slightest idea why I started at that age. The truth is I drank because I wanted to. Something inside of me kept saying, "Try it, it won't hurt, just one little drink." So, I did what that voice was telling me to do, and that is when I became hooked on alcohol. I fought the battle of the bottle for more than 30 years.
My family didn't want to be around me, because when I came to visit or they came by to see me, I was either drunk or drinking. Yes, I held down a job and would provide for my family, but I assure you that I would have enough money for a drink. And yes, there were times when I spent all my wages on booze instead of paying bills, letting my wife and sons suffer from the lack of things they needed. Yes, I have been in treatment centers. Then I would stay sober for a month or two, and then that little voice would come back saying, "Well just drink a six-pack and no more." I would listen to it for days and fight it, but soon I would give in, and I would go get me that six-pack of beer. Before I knew it, I was getting another one and then it would be whiskey. I have had people come around to visit me and I never remembered them being there. I would sit in this old chair, drinking and watching television. This would go on for days, and finally when I would sober up, beside my chair was a big pile of beer cans and whiskey bottles. I would think . . . how can a man live like this?! " he pauses to take a drink of water.
"I used to keep an old shotgun behind the TV, and the more I'd drink, the more that little voice would say, "Why don't you just stick the shotgun in your mouth and pull the trigger?" But there was another voice that would tell me, "NO! That's not the way, don't do it!" So, I would ask my wife to hide the gun, and as soon as she hid it, the little suicide voice would stop. This went on for years, quite honestly, sometimes I'm astonished that I'm standing here now. Fifteen years ago, I had a severe heart attack, but somehow I made it through. Staring death in the eye was the ultimate wake-up call," he finishes, nods at the group, and then sits back down and a woman takes his place.
Damon looks up at the wall clock as it ticks like the timer on a bomb. He can't stop it, reverse it, or slow it down. Each tick drags him forward, helpless and nervous to the allotted time. He can no more avoid it than the beating of his own heart as it pounds with futility against its cage of bone and cartilage. The dread is an invisible demon sitting heavy on his shoulders and only he can hear the sharpening of its knives.
He sweats and becomes pale, and the tremor in his hands begins. The surging flood of adrenaline thickens his throat and Damon tries to remain calm when he stands up and leaves the meeting room. As soon as he's outside, he sucks in a big mouthful of air hoping it'll clear his hazy mind and calm his queasy stomach. He walks briskly to his car, jumps behind the wheel, and speeds away, leaving a trail of exhaust in his wake.
Stress spreads through his mind like ink on paper. He can feel the fear in his chest waiting to take over. Perhaps it only wants to protect him but there really isn't any danger. It sits there like an angry ball propelling him towards anxiety he just doesn't need. He switches off the radio and gets out of the car. There's something about being outside that evaporates his fears.
He locks the door and walks down to the shore. Damon sits on the beach, his eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. Under the last vestiges of daylight on this gentle evening, he takes in the briny aroma as if it brings a frisson of energy to his fingertips.
The gulls bring their high notes to the percussion of pebbles at the shoreline. Pulling off his shoes, he stands up and sucks in a deep shuddering breath. Scrunching his toes, he feels the softness of the sand, still damp from the retreating tide. He wiggles as shivers cascade down his spine and his eyes burst open. The sand blurs out in a blissful trance, the shore fading into liquid gold.
Damon bestows his gaze on the far-off horizon, the flaring hues of the sun melting into the sky and ocean like a divine painting. The forever-stretching sea is masked with an apricot color, that beautiful umber flowing into turquoise. Through narrowed eyes he watches as each wave overlaps one another, sending the white bubbling crests descending, masking the shore with the transparent fading water.
Moving farther down the beach, Damon stoops over to pick up a couple of flat stones and flicks them across the surface of the Pacific. The tide appears drawn to the horizon, waves rolling in and out, its rhythm as steady as his own. Perhaps that's why he feels so soothed here, his heartbeat finding synchrony with those sea-foam arches.
The waves break around the rocks in the shallows, their foam crests becoming chaotic lace over the blue. Damon watches it swirl, mesmerized as if the movement of the water choreographs his thoughts and takes him to a better place, relieving the anxiety that brought him here. Picking up his shoes, he jogs back to his car and unlocks it. Just before he drives off, he looks over at the water and smiles at the memory of the best thing that's happened since his return.
Elena's proud of him...
From the carousel of random ideas comes some order - a subtle awareness of who he is under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to his waking life. After a few moments pass he begins to analyze them in a lazy way, perhaps these ideas are meant to be kept. Some are composed as if from a book he once read, some are just silly. In another moment they are gone leaving no trace. If they are still in his head, there is no breadcrumb trail back to them.
His eyelids flicker open to the curtains, a hint of daylight streaming in through the tops, alerting him that the sun is up. He closes them again for a few minutes, knowing that today is Saturday, and he made a promise to Enzo.
Now the task of the day is demanding he think about what the day will bring, and if he jumped the gun in agreeing to help. He's awake now and there is no retreat. Turning his head, he steals a glance at the pointless alarm clock, glowing red, and reaches out to turn off the buzzer before it blares in his ear.
Throwing back the sheet, his nude body stumbles to the bathroom to shower and be on his way.
He arrives before the kids and he can see Enzo's relieved he won't be facing the horde alone. Glancing at his watch, he arches an eyebrow at Damon.
"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?"
"Why are you complaining, I'm here aren't I?" Damon pours himself a cup of coffee, his eyes snapping to the door when the group begins to enter.
"Hey, looks they're here, it should be fun," Enzo gives him one last grin and goes to meet them halfway.
All the reasons not to do this come flooding in as if his body chemistry just sent them a blanket invitation. Damon feels the soft panic that begins to grow or fade depending on the choice he makes. It will slack off if he hightails it out of here but then there'll be another time, another situation if he lets these thoughts swirl into a vortex of stupidity. Or he can breathe slowly, let the malignant thoughts fade away, and be his own boss.
Sucking in a breath, Damon shakes his head and follows him, curious about what the day will bring. It's a group of twelve boys and girls, fourteen, fifteen, he isn't sure exactly. Surprisingly, the skittishness ebbs away as soon as he can hear their voices, excited as they're chatting about what their day will entail. He smiles and approaches them.
"Hi, how are you all today?"
"Good," one red-haired girl replies, turning her toes in nervously.
"I'm Damon," he starts, freezing when their teacher cuts in.
"Come on, guys, listen up, your trainers don't have all day."
He's met Katherine's brother-in-law, Kol Mikaelson, more than once actually, although now he clearly means something more in his, or rather Elena's life. He's the last person Damon would have expected to be here today. Mentally he scolds himself for forgetting that he's also one of Elena's colleagues.
Kol obviously didn't expect to run into him either.
"Damon Salvatore...," he utters when the kids leave the hall to change. He looks at him in a way Damon doesn't like at all.
Instead of lowering his head, he lifts it, a stony glare carved into his blue eyes. "Kol Mikaelson," he returns, trying to keep his face impassive, it's hard though.
"You look... decent?" his tone doesn't sound insulting, although the words are clearly meant to be. "So, you're back, after all..."
Elena clearly didn't tell him. Or Katherine.
"I am," Damon responds shortly. "The kids are waiting," he nods and leaves the battlefield.
"That's it, Bobby," Damon encourages the tow-haired boy as he wrestles on the mat with a brown-haired boy.
"Ouch," the kid squeals and rolls off to the side before jumping to his feet. Putting his head down, he rams his opponent's legs, knocking him down and pinning him.
Enzo blows the whistle, signaling the end of the match. Bobby stands up and offers his hand, helping the other kid up. They bow to each other and then move to the sidelines while two more boys take their turn. Damon's eyes are as immobile as the rest of his face when he catches a glimpse of Kol who quickly looks away.
This time the emotions run a little high between the two combatants. "I'm going to kill you," Jimmy snarls, he attacks with a big right overhand punch. David steps out of range, dodging it but before he can raise his hand to defend himself, Jimmy drives his shoulder into his chest, slamming him to the floor.
"Come on guys, this isn't the WWE, you're supposed to be having fun, not killing each other," Damon helps David up while Enzo pulls Jimmy to the side.
"Sorry David," he wipes away the sweat that drips off his nose with the back of his hand.
"Above all, we teach sportsmanship here," Enzo reminds them and signals for two girls Freya and Keelin to take their turn. They dance around each other, mostly laughing before Keelin tackles the other girl and sits on her belly, pinning down her arms.
"And we have a winner," Damon's about to raise her hand in victory when she links hands with Freya and they raise them together.
"That's it for today. Excellent job everyone, there are refreshments waiting for you," he chuckles when they run off to grab some energy bars and Kool-aide. "Thanks for helping me, Damon. These kids get pretty intense."
"I see that," Damon stoops over to pick up the towels and throw them in the laundry basket. "As surprising as it might seem, I had a good time today," his voice trails as his gaze drifts once more to Kol but this time it lands on his back.
"I thought you could use a distraction," Enzo arches an eyebrow.
"You thought right. Do you need anything else; I'm supposed to meet my dad?"
"Go on, we'll see you next time."
Damon nods and as he reaches into his pocket for his car keys, he catches Kol's unflinching stare. Rather than give the lout any acknowledgment, he leaves the gym, waving goodbye to Enzo as he walks past the window.
Damon pulls off Oregon Highway 540 and drives until he reaches the Charleston Marine Life Center. Located on the edge of the harbor in Charleston, OR, the Oregon Institute of Marine Biology's Charleston Marine Life Center is an exciting place for discovery. Aquaria highlighting different coastal ecosystems, a tidepool touch tank, whale and sea lion skeletons, underwater video from deep reefs and undersea volcanoes, and a variety of specimens reveal the hidden and remarkable diversity of life off Oregon, from the coast to the deep sea.
Stepping out, he pockets his keys and jogs to the entrance where his dad and Elijah are waiting for him.
"Hi Uncle Damon," Eli greets him, smiling up at his papa.
"Hi buddy, thanks for inviting me," he looks at his dad, nodding subtly, and follows them inside after Giuseppe pays for their tickets. They go inside and through the exhibits, the young boy is very excited when he dips his hands in the tidepool tank.
When they see a program about sharks that inhabit these waters, Elijah drags Damon along with him. They learn that at least 16 species are found off the Oregon coast. They get to handle shark jaws, teeth, fossils, and skin and learn about the adaptations that have allowed them to roam the ocean for more than 400 million years.
"I love sharks, papa said you liked them when you were a little boy too," he looks up to see Damon holding a Megalodon tooth.
"Yeah, I still do, I can't tell you how many times I watched Jaws," he looks at his father and laughs.
"Why don't you ask him about the nightmares he used to have where he'd end up in bed between your grandma and me?" Giuseppe chuckles, giving his son's shoulder a squeeze.
"Well, I was just a little guy then, younger than you, Elijah," Damon rolls his eyes. "Thanks, Dad."
From there the three of them walk down the beach towards the shoreline. Elijah's mouth drops when a dolphin leaps high into the sultry air. From his shiny grey topside and whiter underbelly fly water droplets, cascading down, bejeweled in the light. His body arcs and his tail flips and down he goes with a splash. They watch for a while but when it doesn't show again, they walk back into the building to look at the aquarium fish.
Elijah wants to take his time as they look at the tanks, while Damon and Giuseppe take a seat to wait for him.
"How are you, son?"
"It's a good day, Dad. Thanks for thinking of me."
"I felt you could use a little time out as it were. Elijah loves this place, it's not the first time he and I have been here."
"It's nice," Damon looks around, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his tee shirt.
"Have you talked anymore with Elena?"
"No, and I know the two of us will have to have a sit down at some point..."
"I think you'll know yourself when the time is right, Damon."
"I hope so," he looks over at Elijah whose hand is splayed on the glass as a ray glides around in the tank. "He's a good kid."
"He is, Stefan and Rebekah are trying so hopefully we'll have another one soon."
"I see, um, I'm a little hungry, should we get something to eat?" He doesn't exactly feel like chatting about Stefan and Rebekah's efforts.
Giuseppe nods and gets up, whispers something in the boy's ear then they return to Damon. The three go to find some lunch and after they're done, Damon tells them goodbye, and jumps in his car, waving at his family as he drives away.
Elena looks out of the window every few minutes. She had short hours at school today and hurried home, determined to catch Damon when he arrived with today's mail. Hopefully, he has something for her.
He's a little later than usual, Elena's thinking to herself when she catches a glimpse of his truck turning the corner onto her block.
She's jumpy with anticipation.
Before he has time to take the mail out of his pouch, she's on the porch... and ridiculously happy when he turns to her and gives her a smile. It's small but it's there.
It reminds her of the old Damon.
It's as if they never stopped the latest conversation, neither of them feels the need to say hello, and they just continue.
"How are you doing? I got off a little early today, I was hoping to catch you."
"It's a good day," Damon shares. Especially when he gets to see her.
"Glad to hear that," she nods. "For me, too."
The conversation feels as awkward as if they are strangers.
"My cat, Onyx, didn't want to let me out of bed, she'll definitely be pissed off that I escaped."
There's a trace of humor which Elena appreciates.
"I'd be too," she pauses at this unexpected innuendo that came out of her mouth uncontrollably. "I mean..."
Damon laughs, and she knows she doesn't need to explain herself.
"Okay, Elena, I have to go," he lifts a handful of mail indicating that he has more to deliver.
"I know..."
He turns to leave but on impulse, he looks at her one more time. "I started going to a support group last week."
The allure to tell her was simply too hard to resist.
"Really?" she seems pleased or at least he thinks she is. "That's good. As long as it helps."
He doesn't think too deeply into what she means but he certainly knows he will try again.
For her.
Happy Halloween! I didn't have any ideas for this year but I do have several old Halloween one-shots. Last Year was "Beyond The Doors of the Dark" with DE as paranormal investigators. "The Devil and Miss Gilbert" is a fun story from Halloween 2019.
Thank you so much for reading. Apologies for the short hiatus. I wanted to complete IACBTM and HoI since they were both short stories.
Chapter title: Who Am I by NEEDTOBREATHE.
Have a safe and fun day!