I have had thirty days to prepare my decisions, since the first time I took my first sip of alcohol. He wasn’t like most kids who have their first drink at a party, under the influence of too many friends and not enough brain cells.
There was no one around to pressure me to drink. In fact, no one was around to care at all. My brothers were always busy doing their own things and my father rarely came home before nine, which meant no one was there to intervene.
That first night, I drank because I was angry at myself for missing a goal and losing the game for my team.
The next week, I drank because my dad called me stupid for failing a test.
The time after that was the anniversary of my mother’s death.
Little by little, drinking became a way to numb problems. To drown out the noise until I could better cope with the stressors around me. Except the time to confront never came. When adversity came my way, I ran and repeated the same habits that got me into trouble in the first place.
I never learned from my mistakes. I was too lost in my illness to care much beyond stopping the pain, and everyone who
around me, especially myself, we paid the price.
Although not anymore. I will do whatever it takes to stay sober, not only for myself, but for the people I love.
My grandfather was right. Sobriety is a journey, except to get to the final destination, I had to endure a turbulent plane ride for a month with no runway in sight.
This is what rehab felt like. But unlike last time, I gave it 100 percent because I deserved everything. I wanted to improve for myself and for the future I will have once I do.
When I land in Chicago, I head straight to the AA meeting Leo recommended because I have no time to waste. All the chairs are placed in a circle, exposing us to each other. I take one of the last free seats, leaving the one next to me empty.
The president begins and one by one everyone introduces themselves. It is an intimate group made up of lawyers, executives and high-profile professionals. I recognize some of the crossovers at events, but no one comments on it. Because in this room, we are all equal.
Recovering alcoholics.
I’ve been through this process twice now, so I know exactly what to say when everyone turns to me.
I get up and take a deep breath. “Hello, my name is Callahan, although I prefer to be called Cal, and I am an alcoholic.”
“Hi, Cal,” different tones and voices respond.
I ignore the urge to clench my fists. “Today is the first official day I choose to be sober.” Rehab might have gotten me off on the right foot, but not having access to alcohol is not the same as choosing to get sober. At least not for me.
I want to be tempted by alcohol and resist.
I want to experience pain and overcome without a single drop of vodka. I want to prove to myself that I can make it in the world as a sober man instead of one driven by the need to drown my emotions and insecurities with a temporary solution.
People applaud like he just won the Stanley Cup.
A few more people show up. As a man shares how he’s officially one year sober, the door behind me opens. Everyone turns towards the sound.
The one person I never thought I’d see at one of these meetings walks in, waving an umbrella in one hand while juggling a briefcase in the other.
My father’s eyes connect with mine. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see me here, but me on the other hand?
I’m stunned.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” the president shouts.
I think he introduced himself as Jeff. Jim? I don’t remember much except that his job is to defend the worst criminals in all of Chicago.
No wonder the idiot drank. “I’m sorry, I was late”.
Sorry, am I late? My dad doesn’t apologize for shit.
Because he’s pretending.
As fate couldn’t be more bastard lately, he takes the only empty seat available, right next to me. I’m grateful that I’m more like my mother because she would hate for people to connect the two of us as anything more than strangers.
After all, that’s all we’ll ever be.
The group turns to look at my father, and he stands up with a sigh. “Hello, my name is Seth and I am an alcoholic. “I’ve been sober for 640 days.”
That. Him. Shit.
I must have said the words out loud because everyone turns to me with a variety of expressions. My father’s soulless gaze falls on me, making my skin crawl.
“Have something to say?” Its low tone is a warning similar to that of a rattlesnake.
“A lot, starting with why?”
“For the same reason you’re probably here.” He takes a seat and unbuttons the front of his sports jacket.
Brady fucking Kane.
If my grandfather wasn’t already dead, I would have made sure he didn’t live to see tomorrow.
I spend the rest of the meeting processing his reason for being here. Grandpa must have wanted him to get sober in exchange for something, but what? Six percent of the company? Twenty-five billion dollars?
However, he didn’t ask you to get sober. Just him.
I can’t understand why my grandfather would go to the trouble of emphasizing the importance of sobriety being a journey, only to force my father to attend AA.
It doesn’t matter. If I earn my shares, then the math will never be in your favor, regardless of whether you earn six percent or not.
I mull over every detail, searching for clues about the past two years, only to have the chip person lure me back into the meeting and put a chip in my hand.
“Congratulations on being sober for twenty-four hours.” The person in charge of handing out tokens based on everyone’s level of sobriety continues with the next person.
I spend the rest of the meeting turning the chip between my fingers. It’s not until the metal legs of the chairs scrape the floor that I look up to find that most of the members have already left.
My father stands up from his seat, completely ignoring me.
“Did you ever want to be sober before the will?” I ask the question that has been festering in the back of my brain.
His bright eyes bore a hole into my head. “I never had a reason to do it.”
The piercing sensation in my chest intensifies. “Not even a single one?” “No,” she says in a flat tone.
“How are your children?” “What about them?”
To think that you truly believed that you were similar to this man.
In reality, the only thing my father and I have in common is an addiction. Because where he finds his family dispensable, I find mine irreplaceable. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure I made them happy, which is something I couldn’t even begin to understand, let alone reciprocate.
“Why did you drink?” I blurt out before I have a chance to filter my question.
“Because I didn’t know how to stop.” “And now you do it?”
“I was very motivated to learn.”
“For money”. I don’t bother manipulating the disgust in my voice.
“Who are you to judge? It’s not like you’re better than me. He gives me a look that would make anyone else feel two inches tall.
“I’m here because I want to be.”
“For money”. He repeats my same words to me.
I shake my head and stand up. “Because I’m worth the effort.” Her quick glance couldn’t be more disdainful if she tried. “Are you sure about that?”
A bitter laugh explodes out of me. “You have always found me lacking, but I have something you will never have.”
“A heart?” Her mocking smile deserves to be hit.
“A life worth living.” I get away. The heaviness pressing against my chest decreases with each step in the opposite direction.
“I have a life worth living,” he cries, an air of desperation bleeding into his voice.
“Then enjoy it while it lasts.”
Once Declan becomes CEO and we all earn our shares in the company, my father will become the only thing he spent his entire life making sure I felt.
Insignificant.
 |
I wait until I get in my car to call Lana. I’m not optimistic about her response, but I’m holding my breath.
The pit in my stomach only stretches with each ring. My finger hovers over the red end call button, but I stop when I hear her voice. “California?” Lana’s light raspy sound tugs at my chest.
God. He missed the sound of his voice. “Wool”.
“You’re out,” she says before a door closes on her side of the call.
“Yes. I just left this morning. “How was it?”
“The closest I hope to be to jail.”
His laugh is soft but it eases the tension in my shoulders better than any massage.
“How are you?” I ask before thinking against it. “Good.”
“And how is our girl?”
The silence that follows my question is unbearable, but I refrain from filling it. There’s nothing I won’t do to show her that I love her and Cami, even if it means reminding her every chance I get.
Lana lets out a heavy sigh. “She misses you.”
My chest tightens. “And you?” It’s a stupid question, but I can’t help but ask it.
“I’ve missed you too.” She whispers it like a dirty confession.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words from her until she said them.
“I plan to return home.”
“When?” Her voice has a certain edge to it.
“I’m not sure.” I bite my tongue. Until I get my shit together, I don’t want to go back because Lana deserves better than that. She deserves the best I have to offer, and a twenty-four-hour sobriety chip isn’t going to cut it.
“Then why call?”
“Because I wanted to let you know that I’m going to find a way to make everything okay.” The post-rehab self is motivated by a single goal: to show Lana and Cami that I will spend the rest of my life showing them how much I love them.
“That’s all?”
“And that I love you,” he added. she sighs
My grip on the phone tightens. “Just give me time to fix this,
OK?”
His steady breathing fills the silence.
“Okay,” she says before the line goes dead.
 |
“You’re back!” Iris throws her arms around my neck and cries.
The moment I texted the family chat saying I was back in Chicago, Iris responded that she was on her way with Declan.
I shake her off and take a good look at her face. “You’re crying?”
“Yes. I can’t help it. He wipes his face in frustration. “Just pass.”
I gave Declan a what-the-fuck look . He just shrugs as if this happens all the time.
Wait a minute… Declan would never wipe Iris’ tears like that without a good reason—
“You are pregnant.” The words fly out of my mouth. She nods with a few tears running down her face. “Holy shit. Congratulations!” I pull her back into a hug.
“Since when?” I look over Iris’s head at my brother. “We found out a week after you left.”
“I wanted to tell you, but you weren’t here.” Iris’s tears soaked my shirt.
“She was very upset about it. I cried for what seemed like a day,” Declan murmurs.
“This is doing wonders for my ego.”
Iris hits my chest with a laugh. “I’m emotional.” “Yes, an emotional disaster,” I finish for her.
She pushes against my chest and I let go.
His nose wrinkles. She smells like an airplane.
“Probably because I landed a few hours ago and haven’t had a chance to shower yet.”
Declan pulls Iris away from me and hugs her. “How was rehab?” “Like a party, except no one wants to be there.”
“Sounds like a typical Friday to me.” Declan’s lips twitch. Iris’s eyes roll.
“Did you get the chip?” Declan asks.
I take it out of my pocket to show him. That and a nice conversation with our father.
Declan’s eyebrows knit together. “Our father?”
“It turns out that any inheritance I have depends on me also attending AA meetings.”
My brother plops down on the leather couch. “Shit.” “Yes. My thought exactly.
“Isn’t that… triggering?” Iris sits next to Declan and takes her hand.
I shrug. “I spent thirty days overcoming my father’s problems.”
“AND?”
“Turns out the only person I was hurting was myself, and it’s safe to say that masochism is no longer my problem.”
Declan’s smile is small but powerful. “Teach me your ways.” “Oh, you can plan it once I get Lana back.” Until then, nothing else matters.
“What do you think your grandfather offered him?” Iris asks.
“There is still six percent of the company unopposed.”
“I knew Grandpa wouldn’t let him leave with nothing. He always had a soft spot for that piece of shit. Declan rubs his beard as he looks into the distance.
“We will resolve it.” I take out my phone. “Are any of you hungry? She was thinking about ordering delivery.
“Wait. Are you staying?” Iris frowns.
“I still have a few things to figure out before I return to Lake Wisteria.”
“Like what?”
“How the hell am I going to get the lake house?” I already spoke to the realtor and told him not to accept any offers, so it’s only a matter of time before we find a solution.
Declan’s frown deepens. “You can’t keep it.” “I have a meeting with Leo tomorrow to see otherwise.”
His chest drops from his sharp exhale. “What if he tells you it’s impossible?” “Then I will find a way to prove you wrong.” “California…”
“That?”
Declan leans forward on his elbows. “You don’t have to find a solution on your own. We are here for you.”
The pressure in my chest releases like a burst balloon. “Don’t be so soft on me now that I’m sober.”
His lips twitch. “Idiot.” “That’s more like it.”
Iris’s glassy eyes make me laugh. “Really? Are you crying again?”
She sobs. “I’m sorry, okay? “It’s so sweet to see you two getting along and being all brothers.”
I fake a tug as Declan frowns, restoring the balance between us once more.
Iris and Declan keep me company during my first night of rehab. Unlike before, I am not plagued by a strong loneliness that I want to drown out with alcohol. Instead, I enjoy my time with them, while reminding myself that I too can have what they have.
As long as I put in the work.
