Page 61 of The Blessing

chapter 25

far behind

While October reaches its close, my search for Travis is far from over. I’ve scoured the town for him but haven’t found a fucking trace. Now, I wish I would’ve reached out to him earlier, instead of pushing him away like a complete pussy. I just can’t get over seeing him like that. I’ve never seen him act so skittish and fucking strange. I understand his apprehension because I was pretty nervous myself—but you’d think he would’ve at least waved back or said “hey” or something to acknowledge my presence. I’m obviously in no position to judge him, so why would he fear my opinion?

Since last seeing him, I’ve been regularly going to the A.A. meetings in the area. I haven’t seen him at a single one. I can’t help but feel somewhat guilty—fearing my presence has scared him away. Since we both have our issues with drugs and alcohol, I think we might have supported each other in this journey. At least, I would’ve liked to have done that. It would’ve been something to bring us closer together after Dean’s death. We weren’t extremely close in the past; he’d always been more of my brother’s friend than mine since I was a few years younger. Although, to be honest, I hadn’t been close to anyone back then. I didn’t really do “relationships” of any kind and everything remained pretty surface-level for me. I don’t know what my issue was with bonding with people; I never felt the desire to be close to anyone when I was growing up. So, Dean and Travis were the two people who were really important to me when I was a teenager. Which makes the thought of him hiding from me sting that much more.

Tonight, I’m going to another meeting at a different location in hopes I’ll find him this time. The atmosphere at this meeting is not as daunting as it’s been at some of the others. While the local Y.M.C.A. feels like a strange place to meet, I’m relieved this location doesn’t have statues of Christ and the Virgin Mary sitting around, looking as if they’re watching you. Now, I’m just surrounded by a basketball court and gym equipment as I awkwardly walk to the designated meeting room at the end of the hall. This meeting isn’t as popular as the last. Instead of rows of chairs, they’re formed into a small circle. I hate small groups. They make me feel so fucking uncomfortable because of their intimacy. I can’t blend into the background and pretend I’m not here. This discomfort will be worth it if Travis decides to show up.

I take a seat and pray no one will decide to sit fucking next to me. I’m faced so that I can watch the door as people trickle in. The meeting tonight is mostly men, but there are a few women. Unfortunately, not one of them is Travis. I’m close to just walking out of the meeting before it officially starts, but because of the small amount of people attending, I know it’d be uncomfortable for me to leave. Thankfully, the leaders of these A.A. meetings don’t ask a bunch of questions to those attending and don’t force all attendees to speak. Maybe one day I’ll consider getting up and sharing my story, but today, like most days, I just want to sit back and listen.

The meeting begins and a few people have come prepared to speak tonight. Their stories are similar and relatable. It’s strange to hear these sorts of accounts from people who look so normal. I don’t know what I was expecting—but it definitely wasn’t this. I suppose I was expecting to see people similar to the photographs shown in those school D.A.R.E. presentations to dissuade you from trying drugs and alcohol. Those presentations consisted of some of the worst photos of drug addicts and alcoholics imaginable. I went through life believing that’s what they all looked like and since I didn’t look like those pictures, I couldn’t truly have a problem. Of course, the scene in California taught me to think somewhat differently. I’ve seen gorgeous women snort coke off their nails as if they were having their afternoon cup of tea.

As I listen to the stories, I observe the people sharing them. One man who looks like he could’ve easily been my high school history teacher talks about sneaking drinks at work until he was caught and fired. Another man who looks like a completely “normal” person and would have a completely “normal” job, talks about how his alcoholism lead to his divorce and a custody battle over his children. A woman with pearls around her neck and a polished outfit tells us about her DUI and how it cost her the nursing license she worked so hard for. My mind begins to drift to my own life as they speak about theirs. I end up thinking about Ronnie and Grey waiting for me at home as I stare out one of the room’s windows. Before the meeting comes to its close, the most skittish looking man of the entire group decides he wants to speak. He’s shaking slightly as he stands from his seat, and I’m not sure if it’s due to nerves or maybe drugs because something about him just isn’t sitting right with me. He stutters out an introduction, telling the group his name is Will and he’s been sober for a little over five months now. With an anxious sigh, he begins.

“I really hit rock bottom when my girlfriend broke up with me because of my drinking. Of course, I ended up drowning my sorrows at a pub a few miles away from my apartment. It was the only bar in town I hadn’t been kicked out of due to disorderly conduct. I don’t remember how many drinks I had—but I do remember when the bartender cut me off and said he’d call me a cab. I didn’t want to wait for the ride, so I grabbed my keys from his jar behind the bar and left before he could stop me. Everything after that was a blur. I remember the radio blaring and I the can of beer I was drinking as I drove home. I dropped my beer and it landed on the floorboard. And in an effort to retrieve it—I took one hand off the wheel and ended up crashing into something. As soon as I realized I hit a car, I got spooked and drove away. When I sobered up a week or two later, I knew I needed help. That’s how I ended up here and now I’ve been sober for a little over five months.”

As the group congratulates him on his transformation, all I see is fucking red. His story is just an example of how fucking selfish alcoholics can be. What if he killed someone? How would he even know if he did if he was too drunk and selfish to stay on the scene of the accident? My thoughts are instantly flooded with images of Dean and Cat: two people who died because someone was fucking selfish; two innocent people who lost their lives because someone decided to make a horrible, careless choice. I want to say something to this asshole, but I don’t want to cause a scene. I hate attention and I know if I opened my mouth, I’d end up beating his ass. Punishing him because I don’t know who the fuck else to punish.

I leave the meeting in a foul mood. Isn’t it ironic that all these meetings make me want to drink? The thought makes me choke out a bitter laugh. Will I ever escape this? Now that all my vices are gone—it feels like I’m missing a major crutch. Maybe I should just stick to talking to Dr. Russell about this shit, because all these A.A. meetings feel counterproductive as shit for me. Not wanting to end up at a gas station purchasing a pack of cigarettes to take off some of the edge, I focus all my energy on thinking about what’s waiting for me back home. I know Ronnie’s probably planning for tomorrow. It’s Halloween and we’re planning on having a relaxing night staying in. However, she still insists on decorating her apartment for the occasion. Something which I find incredibly endearing. If I’m lucky, Ronnie will decide to dress up for me. The thought of her in a tight, sexy Halloween costume makes me painfully hard in my jeans. What I wouldn’t give to fuck her in one of those outfits. I try to bring my thoughts to something less pleasant so I don’t walk into her apartment with a giant hard-on. Despite my efforts, my thoughts continue to drift back to her in various outfits.

I manage to calm myself down by the time I get to Ronnie’s. I find her and Grey sitting on the couch watching The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown. Grey babbles along with the movie from her lap. Neither of them has noticed me yet, so I take out my phone and snap a quick picture of them. I know it’ll make a perfect background for my home screen. As soon as I finish taking it, Ronnie’s eyes pop up to meet mine.

“What are you doing, babe?”

“Taking a picture. You two look so good together.” I join her on the couch and kiss her forehead, causing Grey to instantly turns toward me and reward me with a huge grin. He claps his hands in excitement and begins to reach for me.

Ronnie giggles at the crazed little man in her lap. “He’s been waiting for you all evening, constantly looking at the door, waiting for his daddy to come home.”

“Dada!” Grey exclaims as if on cue and reaches his hands eagerly in my direction again. God, I love when he calls me that. I wonder if I could teach him to say “mama.” Or would that just completely freak Ronnie out? I could always deny teaching it to him and just claim he picked it up from Harper or something like that.

“What are you thinking about, daddy?” Ronnie asks as she reaches down to tickle Grey’s stomach.

“Nothing.” I don’t want to express my desire to hear my son call her his “mommy.” It’s probably fucking weird and I’m sure it would freak her out—even if she never admits that it does. Being a parent is a lot of responsibility and we haven’t been together very long. I’ll wait until we’re married and then I’ll teach Grey the title. Shit, I can’t believe I’m thinking about marriage! I honestly never thought I’d get married. Of course, that was B.R.: before Ronnie. She’s so incredible. I know that if I don’t stake my claim soon some other guy will snatch her up. I turn to look at her, imagining what it would feel like to have her as a wife. She’s everything a man could want—everything I want. I know I can’t let her slip through my fingers.

Ronnie gives me a cute, little smile before turning her attention back to the television. Grey isn’t as interested in Charlie Brown as my girl is; he’s much too busy observing me and playing with my face. He puts his little hands on my cheeks and pushes my lips together until I look like a fish, then he throws his head back in laughter. I smile at his response and make another funny face at him, which causes him to laugh even harder until his laughter becomes these cute fucking hiccups. I try to ease the trapped air by placing him comfortably on my shoulder as I begin to rub his back. I love these little bonding moments with my son. It makes all the shitty parts of my day worth it when I can come home to him and my girl.

“So, did you get a costume for Grey?”

“Maybe,” she teases before bringing her lips to meet mine in an obvious attempt to distract me. “I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”

I bring my lips back to hers again—enjoying the way they taste as I lick her full bottom lip. Before things can go much further, Grey lets out a fussy whine and pushes on my face with his hand. I give him a dubious look as he breaks up our kiss. In return, he gives me a pout, as if to say, “Dad, why the hell aren’t you paying attention to me?”I kiss his forehead to placate him and it calms him down right away.

“Why, will you be dressing up, too?” I ask, hoping that she will so I can fuck her while she’s all dressed up in some hot outfit.

“It’s nothing much. Just something I’ve worn over the past few years.”

Ronnie’s a shit liar. I’ve got to try my best to keep the smile off my face as I think of what she purchased for my eyes only. “I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll look hot.” Ronnie blushes at my comment. I pull her comfortably against my body, her soft curves molding against my hard frame.

“I thought after the movie we could finally carve our pumpkins. They’ve been sitting there for a month,” Ronnie says with a smile as she nods her head toward the kitchen table, where she has everything set up. “You can carve the pumpkin for Grey and let him get all the pumpkin guts out.”

“Pumpkin guts?” I ask with a smile.

“That’s what Harper calls it. She used to do it when she was little and she loved it. So, I thought it’d be fun for Grey. Aren’t all little boys supposed to like playing with slimy stuff?”

Ronnie gives me a hopeful smile and I’m quick to answer, “Of course, babe. That sounds wonderful.”

My girl can barely sit through the rest of the movie because she’s so eager to start carving the pumpkins. Finally, she decides she can’t wait and explains that we can always hear the movie from the kitchen. Grey doesn’t seem to mind; he’s far more fascinated in Ronnie and me than he is watching the cartoon movie. I get up and follow Ronnie into the kitchen, watching the way her ass sways with every step. I wonder how women do that when they walk. It’s so fucking sexy to watch their hips move with every little step they take. Of course, it’s even sexier when my girl does it. Everything she does pretty much gives me a hard-on. Since getting a taste of her—it’s all I can think about. We’ve got to find some alone time so I can get another taste sometime soon.