“I put alcohol above our friendship,” I argued, but she wouldn’t let me finish.
“When I was in active addiction, I abandoned my sister and her newborn daughter. I moved in the middle of the night without telling them, all because I didn’t want her to see me drink myself to death.” She watched the waterfall as she spoke, her mind traveling to a different time. “I refused to talk to my oldest brother for years, ashamed of my actions and terrified he would be disappointed in me. I pushed everyone away… or I tried to. I tried to isolate myself to make it easier for everyone. I believed if they weren’t close by—if they didn’t have to watch me drink—it wouldn't affect them. I see now that was a load of shit and an excuse to keep drinking without their judgment. I put my drinking above everyone in my life, above myself. I understand why you did what you did, Fai.”
“I hate what I did…” I mumbled, holding back tears as I listened to the one person who truly understood.
“I know, and I know you hate yourself right now.” I looked at her in surprise, shocked she could tell despite our years of silence. “I have a feeling everything you do is riddled with guilt. You don’t think you’re worth our love… or Sarah’s love.”
I swallowed, knowing she was right.
“I don’t hate you,” she continued. “I was temporarily angry and called you some mean names.”
I laughed lightly. “Like what?”
“Dick-knuckle, ass-face, and an idiot more times than I could count,” she explained with a smirk.
I laughed again, shaking my head. She had always been a spitfire. “I deserved every single one.”
She nodded. “That you did, Fai… that you did. But I got over my anger and I watched you. I’ve watched you for years. I knew the minute you were sober again and took it seriously. Hell, I’ve been at nearly every major AA meeting for you. I watched you get your one-month chip all the way up to that six-month one.” I reached into my pocket and ran my thumb over the blue chip inquestion. I pulled it out and showed it to her. She smirked ever so slightly. “I’ve watched you work your ass off to be a better person… but I have also seen how hard you’ve been on yourself.”
I sighed. “I don’t know how to forgive myself. I don’t think I can.”
Jackie nodded in understanding. “Let’s switch positions. Say it was me, all those years ago, who relapsed. Say I pushed you and everyone around me away and kept them away. Say I blew up my life and my relationships to feed my addiction. Would you forgive me if I tried to make it right? If I got my act together?”
“It’s not the same,” I began, but Jackie shook her head and interrupted.
“It is… it’s exactly the same. Why can’t you give yourself the same grace you would give me? I know you would let Sarah stab you—even kill you—and you wouldn’t even be mad. Why must you be perfect in your own eyes?” Jackie asked, her voice rising slightly.
“Jackie…”
“No. No excuses. What makes you think you must be better than everyone else? Why do you hold yourself to higher standards than you hold anyone else?”
“Because if I wasn’t perfect, I was scared I would be alone again. I’m still scared… every day,” I burst out, the words escaping me.
Jackie looked at me in surprise. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed and looked down at my hands. “I was alone until I found Sarah. I had no one… not one person. Every time I made a mistake growing up, I would get moved to different foster homes, get passed up for adoption, or be straight-up ignored by the people who were supposed to care for me. I had no one for so long.”
“Fai…” she mumbled, but I kept talking.
“I had no one. I was alone in this cruel world… then I had her.” I smiled sadly, thinking about Sarah. “I didn’t need anyone else when I had her.”
“Then why push us away?” Jackie asked quietly.
I looked at her to see her eyes wet with unshed tears, but with an openness I hadn’t seen in years. “I thought you would all leave anyway. It felt safer to push you away and have it be on my terms than to be abandoned… again.”
Jackie took a steadying breath and reached her hand out to me. I took it gently. “I’m sorry, Fai.”
I laughed without humor. “I think that’s my line.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but at the end of the day, I let you push me away. I should have fought harder to see what was going on with you.”
“I was being a dick-knuckle,” I mused.
She laughed hard, tears spilling at the same time. “You were. You definitely were. But maybe… maybe we can make it right. Fix our friendship, be family again?”
“I’d like that,” I murmured.
She smiled again. “Good… so now that we’re friends again.” She let go of my hand and whacked me on the shoulder. “Did you really have to sleep with Sarah in the middle of the woods?”
