Page 15 of Addiction

Noticing a tube of bubbles near his headstone, the lump in the back of my throat flares and my eyes sting with unshed tears.

Bubbles.

It had been Dad and Nora’s favorite thing to do when she was a little girl and the very thing that had kept a smile on his face when he was sick. I’d loathed watching her have quality time with him. I’d loathed her for making him smile because I’d wanted that to be me, but more importantly I’d needed to know how she did it. Everything I touched broke or died and I had been terrified of losing the very person I looked up to. So I’d held back through fear and failure and I lost him anyway.

Reaching for the tube, I kneel and take the wand out. After a slight hesitation, I blow the liquid, causing bubbles to fly. Like a film being played back right in front of me, I hear his laughter and picture him in the backyard in his wheelchair while he and Nora have competitions on who can blow the biggest one. The memory of him is so vivid that my heart can’t take it. The burn in my throat and the sting of my eyes intensify as an onslaught of tears erupts from me. I’m the son who should have been but never was, and my god I wish I was.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Pop,” I cry. “Forgive me. I need you to forgive me for me to forgive myself. I can’t do this on my own. I need you to show me the way.”

Dropping the bubble tube, I bury my hands into my hair and let out the endless months and years of feelings that I’ve been battling for so long. For all the times I’ve wanted to cry but have never known how. For all the times I’ve thought alcohol is the answer, but it never is. For all the times those who loved me have offered to help but I’ve rejected it. I cry for those I’ve lost, those I’ve loved and for the fact I’ve never been given the chance to tell them how I feel. It all bleeds out of me like I’ve been sliced apart and I’ve nothing left. I’ve lost so much, and the one person who I need more than ever has left this world thinking I never cared for him at all.

I need him.

I need my pop.

“Why, Pop? Why did you have to go? Why can’t you just be here now?”

“Asher?” Nora’s arms are around me in seconds, and I don’t think twice about pulling her close, resting my head in the crook of her neck as I release all the pain inside me.

“I need him back, Nora.” I sob. “There’s so much I need to say. I can’t stand this ache inside anymore. I just need him back.”

“I’ve got you.” The agony in her voice only makes it worse. Where I once would have fought to stop others from seeing me vulnerable, now I’m more exposed than I’ve ever been.

Why did it have to come to this?

My sister holds me for as long as I need, but the truth is I’m scared to let her go. She will need answers I can’t give—answers that I’m even struggling to understand myself.

With my breathing less erratic than before, we fall into a comfortable silence as Nora remains stroking my back. Her delicate touch gives me solace, but it’s her words that have the power to release a chuckle from me.

“I never expected your homecoming to be so emotional. Someone should have prepared me for this.”

“Tell me about it.”

Wiping my eyes with the ball of my hand, I pull back and look at her, tucking her hair behind her ear and wiping her stray tears away.

“I love you, sis. More than you know.” Kissing her on the forehead, I sit back against the tree, resting my arms on my knees. Closing my eyes, I listen to the bird’s, breathing in the fresh air as I slowly calm myself.

"Are you struggling with being home?" Her question is just above a whisper, and I turn my head to look at her. Sitting crossed-legged, she rolls a blade of grass between her fingers. “I know Mom took you to a meeting yesterday.”

"She did. And I am struggling a little,” I sigh.

With a nod of understanding, she smiles at me and looks back at Pop’s grave. I need to try to explain my reasons. For years, I’ve been looking for answers to the questions that race my thoughts. But they’ve never come.

“Being home is reminding me of how much I've lost. How reckless I was." I pause. "Although I was already aware of it, in many ways I wasn't. After your accident, my mindset was to get sober and that was a challenge at times. But being in jail, having that time to reflect on my actions, brought home to me how bad things were. I was terrified of coming home in case everything had changed—in case you'd all got on with your lives and were happier without me in it. I feared your rejection more than anyone."

"I'd never push you away, Asher. We made a promise to each other.”

“I know.”

“You just have to talk. Don’t hide or bottle things up inside.”

“I won’t.”

I hate myself already because I’m doing that very thing now. But then again, maybe now is as good a time as any to start releasing some of the carnage that’s taken me captive for as long as I can remember.

Make amends.

Theo’s words run through my mind.