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“Charlotte…”
“You should have told me, Will. God, what else are you keeping from me?”
“Nothing!” I exclaim. “Charlotte, this was before you came into my life. Before I was a therapist. This was years ago!”
“And yet it still affects you!”
“Of course, it does, that’s what alcoholism is, Charlotte!” Her lip trembles and I take a deep breath trying to calm my agitation. “The things I’ve told you about my family, my childhood…my relationship with Drew. It went a little deeper than that. I used alcohol to cope with feeling like an outsider in my own family. I used it because alcohol never made me feel like an outsider. It made me feel like I belonged. Or maybe it just numbed the pain.” I rest my elbows over the railing.
“How long?”
I let out a breath. “I started in high school, nothing aggressive, but I did my fair share of partying. I told myself once I got away I would stop. And I did, I went to college and grad school back to back, foregoing summer vacations and winter breaks because I couldn’t bear being around them. I threw myself into work, taking four years to do what it took most people six. It wasn’t until I graduated from grad school, that I picked it up again. I was relying heavily on alcohol to temper the pain. I was lonely, in crippling debt from grad school having come from a family withtoomuch money for scholarships. I hadn’t wanted to use a dime of my trust fund, and I was making next to nothing as an intern. I was barely speaking to my parents, the resentment for them and my brother after a childhood of hell still coursing through my veins. In short, I was miserable. Tuck took me under his wing. Helped me get clean. I guess you could call him my sponsor. My family never knew.”
“How…? How could they not know?” she asks. “I know you didn’t want much to do with them, but they didn’t take an interest…in you?”
“No,” I say without another word. She clears her throat slightly and I can see she’s struggling with telling me something. “What is it, baby?” I know she’s angry with me, and in the deep, dark places of my mind, I fear that this is the end of us—but that doesn’t stop me from pushing.
“Drew said—I mean—earlier when he called, he said not to let you push me away.” She purses her lips. “That he should have fought harder for you when you pushedhimaway.”
Of course, that mother fucker would act like the victim. Like I hurt him. Like he wasn’t the problem.
But was he?
Was it his fault that your parents favored him?
No, but he certainly ate it up.
“Don’t buy that bullshit Drew is selling, Charley.”
“He sounded—”
“You bought that ‘he pushed me away crap’ because you don’t know him like I do.”
“And how is that? Because he’s somewhat involved with my best friend, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Then she should probably end her involvement,” I snort, thinking about how he’s slept with half of Atlanta.
“We’re getting off topic.”Good, off topic means maybe I have a chance at keeping her. Making her stay.“How did you get clean, back then? Did you go to rehab?”
“No…I didn’t go. I was worried about how that would look being brand new in the field and a first-year intern. I went to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and Tuck basically followed me around like a bodyguard making sure I didn’t slip up. I didn’t touch alcohol again until…” I pause, giving her a solemn stare.
“Until…me?”
I hesitate, before resting my hands on her shoulders. “This is not your fault, Charlotte. None of this is your fault. I use alcohol to cope with things that are out of my control. And falling in love with you—with a patient—was completely out of control. At first, I was drinking in a way to combat the feelings that I was having for you.BecauseI couldn’t have you. But then we slept together and the itch that I thought I scratched wasn’t going away. I thought I may have been falling in love with you, but I prayed it was just lust.It wasn’t.It was painful not being able to have you whenever I wanted you. Not being able to touch you when I wanted…Having to sit in therapy and watch youmarriedto someone else. To someone that wasn’tme.It drove me crazy and I had no control over the situation. So, the drinking got worse. It was enough just to take the edge off at first. And then to numb…whatever I was feeling.”
She narrows her eyes slightly. “I had no idea…I mean…were you ever drinking or drunk during our sessions?”
Lord knows I wanted to. Having to watch the woman I was sleeping with argue with another man about all the sex they weren’t having made me irate. That went double the times he attempted to touch her.“No. I kept it to after hours. And it wasn’t as bad as my first time around. I wasn’t getting drunk necessarily. It was a drink here or there. But as the people of AA so eloquently put it, there is no drink here or there.” I sit back down in the chair, the exhaustion of this conversation and the remainder of my slight hangover taking over. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her as I put my head in my hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I’m worried about you, Will. What happens when you start feeling out of control again? How do I know you’re not going to go back to drinking to calm your nerves or give you some sense of control? You’ll keep it from me. Or at least you’ll try to.”
That doesn’t sound like she’s leaving you.
Or she’s weighing the options.
“Baby, no. I won’t, I swear, this is it. You have to believe me. I’ve never lied to you before.”
“You didn’t tell me about any of this. This is a big deal. You used to say that lying by omission is just as bad.”
