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One thing led to another, and Patrick’s addiction worsened. He’d never been as good as Sophie at hiding his problems. (This was something she disliked about herself—her ability to box herself in.) Samantha, a social worker who specialized in people with addiction, stepped in to help and invited Patrick to stay at The Jessabelle House to detox. Sophie was distraught when she stopped hearing from Patrick, so she used heavier than ever.
Samantha invited everyone to The Jessabelle House for the Solstice Party. Sophie hardly remembered going. She hardly remembered anything in the fog of that time at all. It was clear that Jared had clued in on her affair with Patrick at one point or another. Perhaps they’d fought about it. Perhaps Jared had threatened her.
When Patrick came out of his room on the night of the Solstice Party, Jared smashed his fist into his face. And Sophie had no longer seen a reason to live that way. She’d taken immediate steps to leave Jared, get clean, and unite with Patrick.
The NA group feasted on soup, chicken, several different casseroles, and fresh bread. As a few church ladies gathered their plates and scrubbed the table, Jeff announced it was time to gather in a circle. Sophie grabbed a chair and slid between Monica and Peter, two addicts who were visiting family on Nantucket and were using this meeting as a bridge between their meetings back home in Boston. With the ferries closed, they couldn’t get back.
Jeff set to work on his typical pre-meeting speech, outlining the rules of NA. Respect was paramount. When it was time to share, Monica raised her hand first and talked at length about a horrible encounter she’d had with her mother-in-law here on the island.
“She learned I’m an addict just this year,” Monica explained. “And now, she doesn’t think I’m good enough to be the stepmother to my stepchildren. But what does she know about our home life? Nothing. My husband and I are very open about what happened to me. I’ve been clean for twelve years.” She chewed her lip. “I don’t know how long I have to pay for these sins, you know? I don’t know how to outrun them.”
Everyone in NA nodded. They felt echoes of what she said in their own narratives.
After three more people shared their holiday stories, Sophie raised her hand. Jeff nodded, his eyes warm.
“Hello. I’m Sophie. And I’m an addict,” Sophie began. “As Jeff always tells us, the holidays are difficult, to say the least. My mother hosted my boyfriend and me for Christmas. She sent daggers in my direction all day long. She has this way of making me feel so small, you know?” Sophie swallowed.
“I was fifteen or sixteen when I first got serious about using,” Sophie went on. “And I thought I was being so secretive. But nothing got past my mother, Katrina. No, Katrina had her finger on the pulse, as most mothers do, I suppose. But she had no idea what to do with me. She screamed at me, but she never wanted to say the word ‘drugs’ aloud. She probably thought the neighbors would hear. Anyway, when I was seventeen, I came home out of my mind. I’m actually surprised that I can still remember this story. But I found my mother crumpled on the ground, sobbing. She finally told me my grandfather had died.”
Sophie blinked back tears and tried to keep her voice bright. She didn’t want to sound too “woe is me.”
“My mother looked up at me from the floor and said,‘You know why he died? He died because he was a drunk. He was an addict. And you’ll end up just the same way if you don’t quit it!’”Sophie punched her thigh and tried to laugh. “It was the only time she really commented on my using like that. I just stormed off, unable to face her.
“But two days ago, my grandmother fell. It’s not looking good. I saw my mother at the hospital yesterday, and the look in her eyes reminded me so much of that day. She still looks at me like an addict. Like I’m out of control. And sometimes, it makes me think I am still out of control. It certainly makes me think about using much more than usual, which is crazy. In many ways, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I live alone. My divorce from a very cruel man just finalized. I have a wonderful boyfriend who is also in recovery.”
Sophie raised her shoulders.
“These feelings will always come back up,” Jeff said, his shoulders dropping. “As we’ve talked about before, your mother is unwilling to look at the part she played in your addiction. And these patterns will repeat, over and over again.”
“What’s the solution? Do I stop seeing her?”
“That’s up to you,” Jeff said. “Many people find those relationships too difficult to carry. The fact that you’re trying is a testament to your strength. But don’t let it drag you out of recovery. You need to put that first.”
After NA finished that evening, Sophie hugged a few friends and bid goodbye to Jeff, who gave her a fatherly look of concern.
“I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother,” he said. “How is she?”
“She’s still in an induced coma,” Sophie admitted. “We’ll know more when they take her out of it.”
Jeff shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear. That grandmother of yours is a fighter. Agatha Whittaker always terrified me. Nobody could take her.”
Sophie grimaced into a smile. She’d heard stories about her terrifying grandmother and her obstinate personality, but she’d always been tremendously kind and loving to Sophie and her sister, Ida. That was always the story, she supposed. Parents always lent most of their emotional abuse (known or unknown) to their children and covered their grandchildren with nothing but kisses.
Sophie walked through the blistering cold and jumped into the front seat of her car, where she turned on the engine and the heat and sat for a moment. She always felt relieved after NA, as though she’d unburdened her soul. Today was no different, save for one thing.
As was her custom, she’d kept a secret.
Sophie’s heart pounded as the memory surfaced. Before she could stop herself, she tugged open her glove box and removed the plastic baggie within. She wasn’t sure why she was driving around with it like this, as though she was carrying it around town, waiting for it to tell her something.
But it had already told her everything she needed to know.
For the second time in her life, she was pregnant.
The pregnancy test on the other side of the plastic still showed off those two pink stripes, clear as day. Sophie dropped her head back. This went against everything NA told her to do. The rule stated not to make any big changes in your life before you have one year of full sobriety. She hadn’t let Patrick move in for that reason.
But a baby was the biggest change of all.
What was she going to do?
