Page 42 of The Intimacy of Finding You

It shattered, and I watched it. I watched it happen as I finally let out another cry. The kind woman wrapped her arms around me, hugging me to her, and I could do nothing but sob.

I never even got to show him our rocking chairs.

chapter twenty-one

Callum didn’t show up last night, and I hadn’t seen him yet today. If he didn’t show up for lunch, he’d stop by for dinner. If he didn’t stop by for dinner, he’d come during lunch and tell me he wouldn’t make it for dinner beforehand. That was how it went. That was how it always went—except this time. And that worried me.

I let the door close behind me harder than I meant for it to. I rushed out into the hallway, passing Mav on the way to the front. Jack was behind the bar, rinsing a few glasses off, when I sat on a stool in front of him. “Have you heard from Callum?”

He flicked his gaze up to me before looking back down and shaking his head. “Today? No. Has he not stopped by?”

“No. He didn’t come by last night, either.”

“Hm.” He set the glass he had in his hand off to the side. “Well, maybe he’s planning to come by tonight. I’m sure he just got busy with work or something.”

That didn’t satisfy the dreadful feeling that sat heavy in my gut. But maybe he was right. “Could you text him for me? Just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Sure. I’ll let you know when he replies.” He took a cursory glance around the room. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“You doing okay?”

That was a great question. My head had been filled with questions and decisions I needed to make but found myself unable to think about for longer than a few minutes while sober. When I was drunk enough, I felt fearless. Courageous. Certain.

Sober? I was terrified. Everything hurt, and I wasn’t sure how strong my willpower was. I looked Jack straight in the eyes and lied, just like I seemed to always do. “I’m doin’ fine.”

The sides of his lips turned up as he huffed a weak laugh. “Alcoholics and all their lies. It’s the one thing all of you have in common. Are you convincing yourself you’re fine, too?”

“Jesus Christ.” I rubbed a hand down my face. “What did you really want me to say, Jack? I mean, honestly. Did you expect me to just spill my guts out to you about everything that’s going on in my brain?”

“No, but I’m hoping that soon you’ll stop lying as a reflex.”

“I’m trying.”

Jack laid his palms out on the counter and leaned forward. “I know. Try harder, Tobi.”

I shook my head, too confused about everything he was saying to make much sense of it. “Where in the hell is this comin’ from, Jack?”

It was barely a movement. A little twitch of his lips and a softening of the space between his eyebrows, but I saw it. The slight frown. The way his eyes seemed to fall. “From my heart. Callum may have all the patience in the world. Over ten years’ worth. But I’m not the most patient man, and I’ve heard enough stories from him to know just how great you could be. I was skeptical the moment you left without a word at the hospital. I’m still skeptical. But I’m trying to hope and wish. For Callum and for you.” He pulled out his phone and started typing on it. “So, yeah, I’ll let you know when he replies. At some point, though, you’re gonna have to stop relying on him finding you.”

What else was there to say? Nothing. There was nothing I could tell him that would make him any less right or make my actions any more valid.

Instead of trying to figure something out, I slid off the barstool and silently walked back down the hallway to the little room Jack was graciously letting me use. As I sat on the cot, I wondered if I’d overstayed my welcome. How much longer would Jack tolerate me if he was already losing his patience?

I pulled the blanket up, tucking it just under my chin. My stomach was growling, my head was hurting, and I didn’t even remember to get water while I was out there. My tongue felt dry enough to start cracking and breaking into pieces. Maybe that’d be a good thing, though. If I got rid of my tongue, I couldn’t lie anymore. If I couldn’t lie anymore, would I even have the urge to?

There was a half-full bottle of vodka sitting just an arm’s length away from me on the floor. I could always find something to trade to feed my addiction. Even when I had nothing, I’d make something just to get my next fix. When had being sober become a true fear?

It’d happened so long ago, I couldn’t fully remember. What I could remember, though, was how many times I’d explained to people I didn’t drink because I was too afraid to start. I was terrified I’d never stop.

I hadn’t lied back then. I’d later take my first sip and never stop. If I had the option to go back in time, I’d grab my younger self by the shoulders and shake him until he understood. I’d tell him to leave the man he was with. I’d tell him to find Callum and never let him go.

But that wasn’t an option. All I had left was regret. What was I supposed to do with all this regret?

The bottle was still taunting me. I hadn’t stopped staring at it, fighting with whatever common sense was in my mind.

It didn’t win. Common sense, that is. I pulled my arm out from under the blanket and reached for the bottle. I twisted the cap. I stared at it again, studying the clear liquid like it was anything but death in a bottle. What else it could be, I didn’t know. A magic potion that came with a price.