If Only We (13 page)

“Adrienne,” he says, cutting me off, “you have already done so much.”

“Not really.”

He gives me a look. “You’re the one who convinced me we needed to talk to him. When you’re in the middle of it all, sometimes you lose sight of what you need to do. I’m grateful I had a friend on the outside that could help us get to this place.” He taps on top of his car with his knuckle. “I think at this point, I still owe you.”

“I doubt that, but we can argue about this another time.”

“Deal.” He reaches out and pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you, again.”

He is holding me so tight and close, that I can hardly find the words to say. I barely utter, “You’re welcome,” before letting him go.

Upon reentering the house, I find my mom sitting on the living-room couch going through some papers. Drat. I completely forgot about the look she gave me. She looks up and says, “You never told me if you had fun.”

“Of course. We watched movies and did our nails like we used to. It was nice.”

“I’m glad you had a good time.” She goes back to the papers. I stand in place for a couple seconds then decide to grab my bag and go upstairs to my room. Just as I'm about to reach the stairs, she stops me with, “Is there something going on between you and Chevy?”

I slowly turn around. She is looking me right in the eye, as if she could probe me for information that way. “No, we’re just friends.”

She nods, and then looks back down at her papers. “I was just wondering because it seemed like something. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me.”

They aren’t
, I think. “I’ve just been helping him with a family thing.” I waver a second on whether to say anything but decide to just tell her the truth. “Chevy asked me for some advice last week. His dad is…well, he’s an alcoholic. I suggested they hold an intervention, and they did, and his dad just decided to get some help. That’s why he came over. He wanted to tell me the good news.”

My mom looks back up at me with wide eyes. “Oh sweetie. I had no idea his family was dealing with that.”

“I didn’t either until he told me.” I bite my lip. “I don’t think too many people know about it though,” I add.

She half smiles. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” She sets her stuff down and comes over to give me a hug. “I’m glad to see Chevy has a good friend like you to help him through this. Alcoholism can tear families apart. I’ve seen it happen to a few people over the years and it’s not pretty.” She pulls away. “Anyway, it's great he’s willing to do something. That’s the hardest part.”

Yeah. It is.

Chapter Twenty-two

Friday, July 13
^th

At the end of the week, I have reached a breaking point in monotony.

Monday, Faith asks if I want to come with her and Lyndsay to the nursing home to hand deliver the pillows I made. “Karen is excited to see them, and to meet you.”

I internally cringe at the idea of setting foot in there again. I don’t want to sound like a baby. It almost seems childish, to be afraid of going into a nursing home because the smell makes me nauseated, but it is the truth. I can’t deny that it terrifies me. I take in a deep breath to regain my composure. “Could you give them to her for me? I can probably meet her another time. I just…I don’t know if I can go.”

Faith understands. “Of course.”

She comes home that day with a check from Karen. “She absolutely loves them. She sent this with me, along with her thanks.”

I knew it was coming. I knew how much I was getting. Yet, it still did not feel real until I saw it with my own eyes.

My first sale.

It's exciting to reach that goal, even though it's still just the beginning. I know what I want to do next. I found a pattern for making cute purses. Back when I first saw it, I couldn’t do it because I didn’t have enough cash from my chores to buy the supplies to get started. The fabric from the box in the attic can only go so far, especially with some of the colors being slightly too bizarre in pattern. Although, it may not be a bad idea to incorporate vintage-like items into the mix.

I manage to sneak in a trip to the store for my supplies on Tuesday, and get straight to work on the project Wednesday. Once I build up a decent amount of finished products, I can start putting forth the effort into sharing them with stores. There's an antique and craft commission place a couple towns over I can start with. I have only been inside there a couple times but I know if I bring some of these things in, they're bound to give me a small section to display and sell my items.

Chevy sends a couple messages to let me know how things are going. They took away all the alcohol that was in the liquor cabinet and kitchen. John seems to be handling it okay, although it has been rough these few days not drinking. Apparently, he has been a bit more irritable than usual, but that is to be expected when you take a vice away. They can’t be with John at all times, but he doesn’t seem to be falling off the wagon when they see him.

It fills me with hope. It also fills me with anxiety, knowing we haven’t gotten to the moment of truth yet. It's easy to stay away from alcohol for a few days or even a week. From what I've read, the real test of willpower is when you go beyond that. Until he does, I won’t be able to rest easy.

Thank goodness for all of the distractions I have. Kaitlin and I keep plugging away on finishing
The O.C.
by the end of summer. She and I have been getting along great, although I still feel those moments where we are still worlds apart. I’m not sure what she is holding back, what is going on in that head of hers. Her horseback riding lessons haven’t stopped yet. She still loves it. If only I could figure out what keeps her at a distance.

~*~

Later that evening it hits me: I am halfway through the summer. I should be feeling good at this point. I have made it through half of this rerun. For some reason, I am feeling uneasy and I can’t figure out why. Am I not succeeding in what I set about to do? Some things are heading in the right direction but most of them are undetermined. Am I doing what I need to do? Am I missing something? Am I forgetting something? I close my eyes for a minute to think things over. Nothing new comes to mind, and everything that has already been done appears to be the best I can do. I still feel like something more is needed.

It is times like these when I wish I had someone to talk to.

I need to get my mind off this, stop dwelling on these details. Lyndsay is out to dinner with Ben for their nine-month anniversary. One thing you never do is encroach on a couple’s anniversary date, not that I would want to, no matter how much I want to get out of the house.

Kaitlin is having a sleepover at our house. I could stay in with them, but I don’t want to be the older stepsister getting in the way and end up stuck in my room all night. Besides, I need some air. I spend too much time indoors when it's summer. I should be outside, breathing in fresh air, smelling flowers, lying in the grass. I suppose that last bit sounds a little boring. It’s not. Spend five days mostly indoors and tell me lying in the grass doesn't sound good.

I would get in touch with Chevy but I don’t want him to feel like I'm smothering him. Right now, his family needs him and I respect their need for some space. There are many things to sort out.

After eating dinner with the family and Kaitlin’s friends, I excuse myself to take a walk. I put headphones on and set the player to a playlist of music from the eighties. I head up the street toward the park and stroll around the paths for half an hour until I settle on a bench overlooking the pond. I sit there with my arms around my knees, taking in the sights. There are some ducks walking around at the edge, some actually on the pond. A few people walk by, some with their dogs. I barely register anything other than the music tiptoeing through my mind.

I close my eyes, trying my best not to think about anything. It's hard not to when all of your problems and mistakes are what encompass your whole existence in this point and time. I may be making progress but I'm still walking a fine line. I could slip at any moment. I could fall. I could lose everything I have worked for up until now. It terrifies me to think like that, but it is the reality. I have spent weeks focused on doing the right things in the right ways because all I want is to be optimistic. Life was so pessimistic the first time around, I wanted this time to be different. Is it going to be different?

Before I can think more about it, I open my eyes and become aware of somebody sitting on the bench next to me. I nearly jump up until I realize who it is. Chevy. He is staring intently at the pond. I pull the headphones off and ask, “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Not long,” he says. Something about his voice is removed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to get some air.”

“Same here.” When he doesn’t say anything else, I say, “Are you okay?” He shakes his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugs. “Have you ever had one of those moments where your life felt like it was falling apart?”

My mind flinches at the reality of his words. “Yeah, I have.”

“What did you do?”

“I cried my eyes out and wished for a second chance.”

“Did you get one?”

I hesitate but decide to answer him honestly. “Yes, but I don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

He gets quiet again, but I give him a moment to speak. “My dad had a relapse,” he finally says.

My heart stops. “When?”

“Yesterday.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Apparently, he used to hide alcohol in his office and not just get it from the cabinet or refrigerator. We found a bottle of vodka buried in his desk drawer.”

I have been so worried something like this would happen. The last thing I need right now is for him to go back to the alcohol and then into that car again. “Oh no.”

“Yeah. He says he’s committed to this, and then he lies about this.” Chevy balls his hand into a fist and taps his leg. “What if he’s still lying and there are more bottles hidden around the house? Or at work? Or he sneaks over to a friend’s house?”

If I thought I was worried, knowing what I know, it is probably much worse for Chevy not knowing what could possibly happen. “Hey,” I say as I scoot closer to him. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

“Do what to myself?” he asks, turning to face me.

“Go over all the what ifs and torture yourself.” Like I keep doing. “He knows how important this is, but you have to realize that addiction is hard to break. Old habits are easy to fall back into at times. It’s like when people quit smoking and to ease themselves out of it, they keep lollipops around to keep their hands and mouth occupied. Unfortunately, lying is a side effect of alcoholism.”

“I know that, but why couldn’t he just have been honest up front?”

I sigh. “I wish I knew the answer to that.”

“Me too.”

“Look,” I say, looking him right in the eye. “Your family will get through this. It’s going to take some time. These things don’t just happen overnight. You can’t follow him everywhere to make sure he's not drinking. You have to trust him. Be there for him. I’m sure he’s upset with himself over the relapse.”

“Yeah, he was.” He sighs. Then he puts his arm around me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adrienne.”

I touch my hand to his hand on my shoulder. “Likewise.” It's strange. I used to get a fluttery feeling inside whenever he touched me. Sitting here with his arm around me doesn’t feel like that anymore. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. “You want to go home?”

“No,” he says as he shakes his head. “I would like to just stay here for a little bit, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is.” I relax beside him and we sit there for a moment in the stillness of the park. When a light breeze passes by, a memory from the end of junior year comes to me.

My mom was getting married in a month and I was going crazy dealing with the last-minute wedding preparations, not to mention the fact that Maurice and Kaitlin would be moving in very soon. Headaches were standard for me by the time I got to school. By the time last period arrived, I was dreading going home. I had my head in my hands when Chevy sat in his seat next to mine.

I hadn’t even realized he was there until he said, “You know, if you don’t cheer up, you’ll cause a tornado in Kansas.”

I peeked over at him through my hand. “Isn’t that supposed to be a butterfly flapping its wings?”

“
No, it’s when pretty girls are sad,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It also makes me sad too. That’s why they call it the chaos theory.”

“
You’re lying,” I said, fighting the smile that wanted to appear over him calling me pretty.

“
It’s true.” He had the straightest face on. “You can look it up in any encyclopedia and it will say, ‘When a pretty girl is sad, the possibility of a phenomenon like a tornado will occur.’”

I finally broke down and laughed.

“
See. That’s better. Now the wind will blow peacefully through the trees,” he said with a smile.

His ability to cheer me up with something so improbable was the sweetest thing. That sweetness about him made me even more smitten, but now that I think back on it, it was the beginning of something more. Before, I was just infatuated. After, it was blossoming into more. Now? It's no longer a feeling with no basis.

It's something much deeper.

Chapter Twenty-three

Saturday July 21
^st

Instead of worrying about smothering him, I check in with Chevy every day from that moment on. He wants me to be there, as a friend at the very least, and I'm determined to be such. John is getting a better grip on sobriety since the relapse. It causes a slow sense of relief to come over me, not to mention thankfulness. Of course, he’s only been sober one week again, but I'm trying hard to be optimistic. I was given a second chance and I will not let the same thing happen all over again. The more positive I am about it, the more likely things will turn out the way they should be.

Right?

I call my dad up to see if I can come for the weekend soon but only hear his voice on the answering machine. I leave a quick message just telling him that I miss him and hope to see him soon. He's probably working overtime; that's what he did most of the time I was there. Considering it's Saturday afternoon, I may not hear back from him until Sunday evening at the earliest.