If Only We (12 page)

Chevy sent me a handful of messages to let me know how things were going. His mom was reluctant about the intervention but when he convinced her how important it was, she gave in. They got in touch with a mediator and member of Alcoholics Anonymous. The two of them started to get in touch with people they want to come—his older brother, Seymour; his father’s brother and sister and their families; a couple of his father’s college friends.

He sent me a message Thursday afternoon that said, “Everyone will be here soon. Wish us luck.”

So I do, and ask him to let me know what happens. I remain nervous for the rest of the night awaiting the response. Did they convince John to get help? Or did he refuse? I do everything I can do to distract myself. Dusting all the shelves in my room, cleaning my windows, organizing my desk and folders.

Chevy never sends a message.

I’m surprised I managed to get to Lyndsay’s this morning remotely functioning, especially with the high state of worry I am currently in.

“Adrienne, you need to calm down,” Lyndsay tells me. “He will let you know as soon as he can. If he trusted you enough to tell you this to begin with, there’s no way he would keep you out of the loop entirely.”

“You’re right,” I reply, giving in. “I know he will. I barely got any sleep last night because of it.”

“You’re losing sleep?”

I handed out too much information. She doesn’t realize how serious getting John to quit drinking is. I shrug it off and say, “I guess I’ve been more anxious than usual lately with the whole career change thing. Adding on one extra stress makes me think too much and worry about the future.”

“You know what you need?” she says as she jumps up off the couch.

“What’s that?”

“A weekend away. You said you wanted to spend time with your dad, right?”

I have been so caught up in everything else that I completely forgot about my promise to him. I did send him a short email a couple weeks ago with a small update. Maybe I should drive down to visit him. “Yeah, that would be a good idea. Probably not until next week though, since I’m taking my car in.”

She holds her hands in front of her face, tapping her index fingers together in contemplation. “I have to work early shift tomorrow while Ben has the late shift. Maybe we could have a girls’ night. You know, like old times. We can paint our fingernails and toenails, have a movie marathon, and stay up until four in the morning.”

“I could go for a throwback to the good old days.”

~*~

I pull into the parking lot for The Auto Stop near closing. I go to the lobby and ask for Chevy. The receptionist tells me to wait a minute and she will get him for me. I sit down in one of the old chairs. The television is playing a black and white show. I see Chevy come in out of the corner of my eye and say, “Is this standard for every car repair shop?” as I point to the TV.

“Yeah, we have a VHS tape in the other room playing the same two episodes in a continuous loop.”

His voice sounds hoarse, almost as if he swallowed sandpaper. When I turn to him, his bloodshot eyes and posture show he had little or no sleep. “Chevy, are you okay?” I ask as I run over to him and touch his arm.

He faintly smiles. “I’m…hanging in there. I didn’t sleep.”

My heart sinks. “He’s not getting help, is he?”

He shakes his head no. I close my eyes to hold back the tears. When I open them again, I know he can see them watering. “Hey,” he says with concern, reaching out to lift my chin. “It will be okay, Adrienne. He’ll come around. We’re not giving up yet.”

I nod, swallowing back the tears. “Okay. I just hate to see you like this.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He touches my arm with a smile. “Now, where’s your car?”

“I parked it off to the side. Here’s the key.” I hand it over.

He closes it in his hand. “It won’t take me long. I should be back in here in fifteen or twenty.”

A few minutes after he leaves the room, John walks in. I freeze in place, not sure what to say or do. He takes one look at me and stops. “You waiting for someone to help you?”

“No, I’ve already been taken care of.”

He furrows his brow. “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I’m a friend of Chevy’s.” He grunts and turns to walk away. Before he turns the corner, and before I can even think, I blurt out, “I want to know why.”

He stops in the middle of his step. “Why what?”

Why did I speak up? What am I thinking? I ball my hands into fists. “Why you won’t get help.”

He slowly turns to face me. “Help?” he asks brusquely.

“Yes, help. Chevy was trying to help you.”

He flares his nostrils. “Young lady, I don’t see how it concerns you. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“No! Don’t you dare walk away from me!” I shout. His eyes widen in surprise at someone daring to talk back to him. Before he can regain his composure, I continue. “It does concern me because Chevy is my friend. You should care what he says. You want to know why? Because he is your son,” I point to him, “and he loves you. He's asking this of you because he doesn't want to lose you. He cares too much about you. He's giving you a second chance at life. And trust me, a second chance is something you don't want to throw away.” I take in a deep breath. “If you cared at all about your family, you wouldn’t be doing this to them. Stop being a selfish coward and take advantage of this second chance, because if you don’t…you may not get another one.”

His jaw drops as he stares at me. I'm afraid of what he might say now that I have run out of words. I run past him and out the entrance. Safely away from him around the corner, I lean against the side of the building and breathe slowly to calm down my racing heart. The adrenaline took over when I yelled at him. What came over me? I have never yelled at somebody like that before. Then again, I’ve never had a good reason until that moment.

Heart now at a steady pace, I look for Chevy. He is standing by the entrance, looking for me. When he spots me, he asks, “Are you all right?”

I'm not about to explain to him what happened inside. So I just tell him, “Yeah, I'm fine. I just saw your dad and had to get out of there.”

Based on the look on his face, he knows I’m lying. He just nods and doesn’t press the issue, probably because of how exhausted he is. “Well, you’re all set. Let me know if it becomes less cool over the next month. I can always recharge it again if needed.”

“Thanks,” I say as he hands me the keys. “Are you sure I can’t do anything to repay you for this?”

“Actually, there might be something. They don’t need me for anything else today, so I’m going to skip out early. I could use a ride home.”

I nod. “Sure.”

We drive to his house mostly in silence. Before he gets out of the car, I hug him tightly. He holds on for a very long time. If he didn’t have to leave, part of me believes he wasn’t planning to let me go. The other part of me disregards that thought, and I head home to spend the rest of the evening in my room crying it all away.

Chapter Twenty

Saturday, July 7
^th

The next day, I decide to walk to Lyndsay’s instead of drive because I need the exercise. I have been spending most of the summer driving places. When I walk up the driveway, I can see her peek out the window blowing on her fingernails. Her hair is slicked back into a high ponytail. Dropping my bag, I stand with my hands on my hips and yell up, “Hey! I thought we were going to paint our nails together.”

“Chill your britches, dear! We are! This is just a base coat, not color.” She waves her hands up and down. “Come on up. I have everything set up. You won’t believe how many hundreds of shades of pink I have.”

“Do I have to use pink?”

“The sooner I get rid of the pink, the better.”

“Why do I have to suffer with it?”

“Just pick up your stuff and get up here!”

She wasn’t kidding about having everything set up. She has a bunch of pillows and blankets all over her bed. There's also her old mini plastic picnic table set up in the middle of the room with all the nail polishes. Fifty percent of them are pink, from hot pink to light pink; the remaining half consist of a wide variety of purple, red, and glitters. She also has a stack of movies sitting next to the table.

She sees me eyeing the pile. “I wasn’t sure what kind of mood you would be in, so I picked out several childhood movies, some comedies, and some chick flicks. We could marathon a genre, or mix and match.” She sits down at the table.

Setting down my bag and sitting down across from her, I realize how lucky I am to have her in my life. There was so much wasted time before, and now I have these moments to experience. The simple pleasures. I smile at her, saying, “You’re the bestest friend in the whole wide world, you know that?”

“Yes, I do.” She picks up one of the medium pinks, then hands over the clear to me. “Now, bestest friend in the whole wide world, it’s time to paint some nails.”

Our marathon of movies consists of childhood classics:
My Girl
,
Now and Then
, and, yes,
The Lion King
. During “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” she suddenly begins to belt out the lyrics in a high-pitched voice and we both end up on the floor rolling around in laughter.

It takes my mind off yesterday, but only momentarily. What I said to John plays like a bad song over and over again.

Unfortunately, my mind cannot be stopped like a song can.

Chapter Twenty-one

Sunday, July 8
^th

As I walk down the road to go home in the afternoon, I start to wish I had driven, with the heaviness of my bag weighing me down. I try to convince myself that walking was a good idea but I can’t find a solid argument for it. The sound of a car slowing down next to me catches my attention. I don’t think much of it, imagining it might be someone wanting to ask for directions. When I look, I am met with a surprise.

It’s Chevy.

“Hey,” he says. “Need a lift?”

I tap a finger to my mouth and say, “Sure, why not?”

He stops and opens the door across the console for me. “Let me get that,” he says, taking my bag from me and putting it in the backseat. After I buckle up, he starts to drive again.

“So what are you doing out driving today?”

“I was on my way over to your house.”

“You were?”

He nods. “I have something to tell you.”

“You do?”

He chuckles. “Are you going to question everything I say?”

“I don’t know, am I?” I say with a grin.

“Apparently.” He pulls into my driveway and puts the car into park. He clears his throat and turns to me. “My dad is getting help.”

My jaw drops and I stare at him in disbelief. That was the last thing I was expecting to hear him say. “He is? Wait, how…when…what happened?”

“He came home late Friday night. We thought he had gone out to drink again. Turns out, he got in touch with an old acquaintance of his who went to Alcoholics Anonymous. This guy convinced him to come along to the meeting with him that night. So he did. He has been sober since Friday night. And he wants to stay sober.” Chevy’s eyes begin to water.

It takes a lot of willpower to keep from bursting into tears myself. I can’t believe it. I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. “Oh Chevy, this is wonderful news. Just wonderful.” More wonderful than he can even imagine.

“I know. I still can’t believe it.”

“What changed his mind?”

He shakes his head. “He didn’t say.”

Part of me wonders if he didn’t want to admit he got a verbal lashing from an eighteen-year-old girl. If John won’t tell Chevy, I am going to respect those wishes. I turn to the house, and then back to him. “Want to come in? I can get you something to drink.”

He reaches back for my bag. “Actually, I am kind of thirsty.”

We walk into the house and I take my bag from Chevy and place it on the stairs. My mom walks down the hallway. “Did you have fun, sweetie?” She sees Chevy next to me. “Oh, hi,” she says, half surprised.

“You remember Chevy, right, Mom?” I ask.

“Of course, you’re Noreen’s son.”

“I am,” he says.

“Chevy was driving by when I was walking home and offered me a lift,” I explain.

She warmly smiles at him. “Well, that was very nice of you to do that.”

Chevy smiles. “My pleasure.”

My mom stares at me with raised eyebrows, hoping for an explanation. I don’t have boys over at the house, unless it is along with other friends. I only dated a couple of boys briefly in my freshman and sophomore years, and dating consisted of hand-holding, note passing, eating lunch together, and sneaking a few kisses. My mom knew about these boys but she never formally met them. I have a feeling she can sense something. Better change the subject before it's brought up.

“So, I was just going to get him something to drink before he leaves,” I say as I tug at his arm, leading him to the kitchen and away from my mom. I manage to stifle a laugh as I pour him a glass of water. I can feel her eyes through the walls. I lean back against the counter and ask, “What’s next for your dad then?”

“We’re working on getting all the alcohol out of the house for starters. He'll be going to the meetings every week and will get a sponsor. Other than that, we’ll just have to make sure he is staying on track. He wants us to keep him in line anyway.”

“You think you and your mom can handle it?”

He shrugs. “I hope so. Seymour's going to stay here for the rest of the summer before going back to college.”

“Oh, he is?”

He nods. “He was able to get the time off from his summer job for it.”

“That’s good then. Your father has a lot of support.”

“Yeah, he does,” he says, looking me in the eye.

I blink a couple times but shrug it off. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“Go back home, help Mom and Seymour out with the things we need to do.” He looks at the clock on the wall. “I should probably go back soon.”

“Let me walk you out.” I take the glass from him and place it in the sink. As we walk through the living room, my mom is nowhere in sight. I wonder where she snuck off to since she isn’t nearby to eavesdrop. When we get to his car, I say, “Thanks for letting me know. And if there’s anything I can do—”