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I let out a growl of frustration and the guy seated in the middle turned his stool around.
“Tell me no. Tell me I’m being stupid. Tell me something!”
“Look, I don’t want you to have that drink because I know what happens next. But I’m not going to tell you no and you’re far from stupid,” Tate paused. “I know the answer to this but I’m going to ask anyway. What do you think is gonna happen if you have one drink? Will it be enough, or will you want more?”
It always took a couple of drinks for me to feel the effect.
One was never, ever enough. It was always that way with me.
All or nothing.
“One is never enough. I want to fucking drown out this past week.”
“That’s understandable. But is the booze going to make you feel better about what happened?”
“I… in the here and now, yes,” I confessed. “Later? Tomorrow? No. I always feel worse.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
My brain finally kicked online.
“I want to go find another place to wait until my flight is called.”
I got up, grabbed my carry on, and walked out of the restaurant.
“Stay on the phone with me?” I asked.
“For as long as you need.”
I made my way through the terminal, searching for a coffee shop.
“Just when I think I’ve got it under control, it fucks with me again,” I said as I walked past several souvenir shops.
“I know, baby, believe me. I know.”
“I should’ve called my sponsor first but I… I had to hear your voice.”
“Even if you don’t like what I have to say?”
“You don’t bullshit. That’s one of things I love about you,” I replied, my stomach finally unclenching. “And you were right. It is my choice. I just… I don’t want to make the wrong one. I don’t want to let you down.”
“You could never.”
“Even if I slipped?”
“I accept that it might happen. For you, for me. It wouldn’t change how I feel. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m stuck with you?” I teased.
“For-fucking-ever.”
Tate
I hung up the phone, my hands clammy, cold.
I was shivering.
Reed’s admission, and the fact that he was so far away, had all my fears churning overtime.
