by Kacey Shea
I pretend it’s something I hardly ever recall. “Yeah.”
“Did something happen?” She narrows her gaze, as if she’s a lioness going in for the kill.
I swallow hard, my mouth parched. “What do you mean?” I flip open the cap on my water bottle and take a sip.
“Between the two of you.”
I practically choke. “Excuse me?” I shake my head, playing up my reaction with a burst of forced laughter I hope they won’t catch. “You do remember how much Alicia hated me? Or has all this love shit given you temporary memory loss?”
Jill’s lips pull with her frown. “I remember.”
“You weren’t my biggest fan either.” I raise my brows accusingly.
“Yeah, yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, you were kind of a dick.” She lets out a long sigh. “Sorry, I was just wondering if you know anything. Because after that she just left. Even her family cut us out. It’s really weird to be so close to someone and think you know them, and they just go and get a new life like you were never important.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Cam squeezes Jill’s hand. “I know how much that hurt. Maybe you’ll get some answers now that she’s coming to the wedding. She left her number on the RSVP, right? Maybe invite her to the rehearsal this week? You two could catch up before the wedding. Set things right.”
Jill nods, her smile hopeful. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.” She leans his way and steals a kiss. “Okay, let’s eat this feast you made.”
I go through the motions, filling my plate with food and trying not to think about the fact I’m days away from seeing the woman I’ve tried desperately to forget. The one I loved with my whole heart. The one who’s responsible for my recovery. The only reason I’m standing here today, sober, confident, happy, and at peace.
Jill isn’t the only one with questions for her long-lost friend. The bigger question is whether I’ll have the guts to speak mine aloud. It’s not as if her answers will change anything.
2
Alicia
I glance out the window, taking in the dreary, rainy London morning. It’s something I have come to love. The weather here is almost a reflection of my inner mood. When I left Richmond, I didn’t plan to stay away this long. I’m not sure what I expected, but sometimes life throws you curveballs and you have to adjust. Understatement of my life.
“The bags are in the trunk,” Simon says, startling me from his place inside the doorway. The door bangs shut behind him. His smile is kind and good-natured, a brightness I wish I could steal.
“Thanks.” I glance around the room, my pulse speeding as I anticipate what lies ahead in the coming hours. My heart pounds in my chest, my breath growing shallow. Part of me can’t wait to get on the airplane, but a piece of me worries I’m making a huge mistake. Maybe I should stay here and hide. No. It might be the path of least resistance, but I would hate myself forever if I missed Jill and Cam’s wedding. I can’t believe she’s getting married after all the years she swore she never would. But I guess I don’t really know her anymore. With a heavy exhale I slide my backpack over one shoulder. “I hope I packed everything.”
“I think they have shops there.” Simon grins smartly, but his humor falls away when I don’t join in with a smile of my own. “You’re nervous.”
I could lie and say I’m not, but we both know the truth. “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Hey.” He steps forward and places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got this, and I’ll be there with you every step of the way. Besides, how angry can your family be? We’re finally visiting.”
“It’s not just my family that I’m worried about.” It’s Callie. Jill. Him. So many nights I’ve dreamed about going back to Chase. Ever since I left the letter. But now, everything is different. So much time has passed. So much has happened. I can’t imagine he’ll be happy to see me, or rather, us.
“We better head out soon.” Simon checks his watch and then nods at the bedroom door. “Want me to get him up?”
Behind the door Matthew sleeps soundly, completely clueless to the chaos inside my head. He has no idea he’s the source of my apprehension, or that he’s one of the major reasons I haven’t gone back home. I never want him to know. “No, I’ll get him. He needs his diaper changed before we go.”
“Alicia, I’ve told you a million times. I don’t mind doing that.”
“I know.” I smile at Simon, the man who stepped up when I needed it most. He’s all in and even dirty diapers don’t scare him. Honestly, I don’t know how I got so lucky. I definitely don’t deserve him. “I’ve got this one. Are you nervous for our trip?”
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening. I’m rather fond of the idea of taking my first trip to America with the two people I love most.”
His words chase away the clouds of apprehension, at least enough to let a little sunshine through. “Thank you,” I say for about the hundredth time since making these plans.
“It’s going to be fine.” He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. “I promise.”
I sure hope he’s right. I’m tired of letting fear rule my decisions. I won’t hide anymore. Not from my past and not from my mistakes. I’ve done so much wrong, but I’ve done a lot of things right—and that’s enough. It has to be.
3
Alicia
Three Years Ago
“Hello?” I say, accepting the incoming call and praying it connects. “Jill?” I walk to another corner of my room and check the bars on my cell. Fuck. The reception in here is so temperamental. Much like my recent mood swings. I swear it’s the dreary weather. The doubt. Everything. My eyes tear up at the idea of missing her call again. It’s bad enough we haven’t talked in almost a month.
“Alicia?”
“Yes!” I exhale in relief. “I’m here!”
“You’re a hard one to catch these days.”
“They have us so busy. I’m sorry.”
“Fucking time zones. Anyway, catch me up! Fill me in! I want to know everything. How’s London? Have you met the Queen? An obscure duke? Maybe a viscount? Tell me you’ve at least stepped foot in a castle?”
I laugh and glance out my window. The old brick building across the courtyard looks like a castle. That counts for something, right? “Honestly, the only thing I do is study and go to class.”
“Alicia!”
“I know, I know. I’m a party pooper.” I feel lost without Chase. I have no desire to go out or meet people, but I can’t tell her that. “School is a lot right now, but I’m sure I’ll adjust.”
“Hey, I get you’re there to do big things, but you deserve to have a little fun.”
“Yeah.” Only I’ve been too exhausted to venture out on my own. I’ve also been insanely homesick. Not for home; no, my heart breaks when I video chat with my brothers and check in on Mom and Dad. But I can’t fight the overwhelming longing for the summer beach house I shared with Chase—even if it was only for a short moment in time. I wish we could go back. Back before I caught him drinking. Back before my father’s stroke. God, how did things get so turned around? “I promise I’ll have something more interesting to report the next time you call. How’s everything back in Richmond?”
She dives into a story about her latest project at work but I zone out when she starts talking hockey. It’s not really my thing. I wish I could ask about Chase. Of my friends, she’s the most likely to know something, but if I ask, she’ll be suspicious.
“ . . . and anyway, we have to get the rest of my crap out of the guest house before we pick up Kenz this weekend.”
“You’re renting it out?”
“Uh, kind of,” she says. “Chase is going to stay here. At least on a temporary basis.”
“Chase?” His name catches in my throat.
“Yeah, but who knows how long he’ll last.” She blows out a breath. “Cam laid down the rules and if we catch him drunk even once, he’s out. I don’t expect he’ll stay more than a month or two.
I mean, he claims to be in recovery, but you know Chase. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Wow. The lump in my throat grows thicker. Is that what she assumes about all addicts? Is that what she thinks about me? Is everyone back home waiting for me to fail? “You know it’s fucking hard work for addicts in recovery, right?” My tone is harsher than I intend, but it covers the hurt.
“Fuck. Alicia, I’m sorry. That was horrible to say. Insensitive.”
“All addicts are capable of change,” I say, quick to defend him. Aching for his success. Even if I can’t be there to see him realize it, I want him to stay sober.
“Yes. Sorry.” Her breath scatters static through the line. “I didn’t mean—” She clears her throat. “That’s not the way I see you. You’re so responsible. I’d never—” Her reasoning prickles my irritation.
“Do you know how many times I got behind the wheel after I’d been drinking? It wasn’t that long ago.” It’s something I’ve never admitted aloud, not outside of therapy or meetings. “What if I was the one to paralyze a friend? What if it’d been Callie or you with me? He’s not a monster; you know that, right? This disease, it eats away at all the good in our lives when it has complete control.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I need to do better. Have more empathy. It’s just really hard giving him a second chance after everything. I mean, first he hurt Callie. He’s the reason you and Callie didn’t talk for a month. He’s constantly caused Cam worry. I guess I’ve spent so much time dealing with the aftermath of his careless actions and it’s hard to give him a pass.”
“Get to know sober Chase. He might surprise you.”
“I didn’t realize you two had a chance to do that this summer.”
Here’s the moment. The perfect opportunity to come clean about everything that happened. To tell her there hasn’t been a day or hour since I left Richmond that I don’t think of him. How scared I am. If I’m being honest, I love him and I’m worried I’ll never be able to stop. But that wouldn’t be fair. Not to him. Not to Jill, either. The last thing she needs is another reason to hate him. He deserves a fresh start. A chance to make things right with his brother.
“We aren’t that close.” The lie fills my mouth with an acidic taste. “Just speaking from experience.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry again. I’m a horrible person.”
“You are not.” I cut her off with a sharp burst of laughter. “God, I miss you.”
“Fuck. I miss you, too,” she says on a sigh. “But you’re really okay?” She’s not asking to be polite. She doesn’t expect a canned response. She deserves the whole truth, but I’m afraid if I let it all out I might break down. Being in a new country without my friends or family has been harder than I ever imagined. Not that I’m giving up. I’m much too stubborn to quit and move back home in defeat.
“I’m okay. I should probably get going. I have a paper due tomorrow. But it was really great to hear your voice. Send everyone my love.”
“Love you, too. Kick ass, okay? We’ll talk soon.”
I end the call and close my eyes. Memories wash over me like waves, pulling me back to days I try to forget—to the man I’m dying to get over. You’d think an ocean between us—completely cut off from communication—would be enough, but I can’t bring myself to fully move on. If I do, my heart might break.
Instead of reaching for my laptop, I retrieve my notebook and flip to a fresh page. My gut coils into a knot, thick with tension ready to snap. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not healthy. I need to move on. But I can’t, so instead of listening to reason I position my pen on the paper.
Dear Chase,
Can you feel how I miss you? How every day brings on a deep longing for more time together. I said I was leaving and that you needed to move on, but the more time that passes, the more I wonder if I made a huge mistake. Do you think of me, too? Does your heart sometimes feel as if it’s beating for someone else? If I asked you to drop everything and come find me, would you?
Are you well? Are you still in therapy and going to meetings? I hope with my entire soul that you are. You are worthy of a rich, full life. Of happiness and joy. We found that together, didn’t we? This summer felt like the first time I was truly living since giving up alcohol. Not just going through the motions, but living life as though I was meant to. If I’m being honest, it scared me. You scared me. It felt reckless, being with you. Irresponsible for both your sobriety and mine.
Do you hate me for leaving? Or is there a part of you that’s relieved I didn’t stay. I wanted to fight for you—for us—but I’m afraid there’s too much between us. Too much history. Too much hurt. In Kitty Hawk we were in a bubble, but it was never meant to last. Still. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me. I still love you. Even after everything.
These are the thoughts that keep me up at night. That make it impossible to move forward. I asked for space, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe what I really need is for you to fight. For you to refuse to let me give up on us.
Yours always,
Alicia
4
Alicia
Present Day
“Hey, Mom.” I step into the sunroom of my parents’ house. Simon is upstairs with Matthew getting settled in one of the bedrooms. I was surprised my mom wasn’t waiting to greet us at the front door. If not for me, then for her grandson. This is the first time I’ve been home in years, after all. But after talking with Mari and Joanne, my family’s housekeeping staff, I realize why. It’s the reason I showed the boys to our rooms before heading out to find her. “Mom?”
Her head jerks at my voice. She lifts her gaze across the room. Her eyes are bloodshot, her gaze unsteady. “‘Lisha, baby, that you?” She’s drunk. Or hung over. I don’t know which is worse.
My gut clenches with unease. I knew it was bad. My brothers warned me. But hearing and seeing are two different experiences. “It’s me.” I step forward, but our reunion isn’t rushed. Something holds me back from running into her embrace. There’s a fear that maybe she doesn’t want me to. Or maybe it’s the collection of wine bottles that clutter the table. If I’m not careful, I’ll make myself vulnerable to a relapse, and I’ll do anything to avoid that.
Mom isn’t herself. She hasn’t been in a while. It’s something my brothers have been saying since Daddy’s stroke. It’s part of why I always came up with an excuse to not visit. I think she resents me for leaving. I know she still hasn’t accepted the reality of my father’s condition. She’s always been an alcoholic, but by her current state, she’s less functioning than ever.
“When did you get here?” She reaches for the drink cart to her right, picking out two empty glasses and almost knocking them over in the process. She sets them on the coffee table and attempts to fill them, but each of the open bottles of wine offers nothing more than a few drops of liquid. “Let me get you something to drink.” She tries to push onto her feet, but doesn’t gain her balance, falling back into her chair with a grimace.
I step forward but she waves me off, pointing toward the vacant seat across from hers. “Sit. Please. I’ll get Mari to bring something out.” She rings a bell and not two minutes later, Mari appears in the doorway.
“Yes, Mrs. Martin?”
“Bring out our best bottle of merlot.” My mother glances my way. “We’re celebrating the return of my prodigal daughter.”
Only, I don’t drink. Everyone knows this.
Mari shoots me a concerned stare, but leaves to do my mother’s bidding.
“How’s Dad?”
Her gaze cuts to mine, an icy edge to her stare. “He’s wonderful. The nurses love him. Not surprising. He always did have a way with people.”
“Mom.”
“Where’s Matty? Do I get to finally meet my grandson or did you leave him behind?”
Like I would even consider leaving him. “Matthew is upstairs sleeping. It was a long flight.”
“I assume you brought the boy toy along as well?”<
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“Mother,” I practically scold. “His name is Simon. Please don’t embarrass me.”
“Oh, I’m embarrassing?” She scoffs. “Is that why you refused to come back here? Or is there something else you’re not telling me?”
“We are not having this conversation.”
“I just don’t understand. Is there something about being home with your own family you can’t bear?”
“Mom. Don’t. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” But that’s only part of the truth. I ran because I was scared. A little lost. I needed space from everything, and yes, the graduate program was important to me. But that’s not why I stayed so long.
“You left when your father was still in the hospital, Alicia. Surely, you could have deferred a year. Under the circumstances they would have understood.”
She’s right, but at the same time a part of me knows I never would have left. It wasn’t as much about losing out on the Master’s program, but losing myself. “I had to go.”
My mother’s glare turns hard. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that.”
Her words slice, giving pain to an old wound. The guilt for leaving. The shame for not being a better daughter. But staying wouldn’t have changed anything. If anything, it would have made things worse. Besides, I was dealing with my own shit.
Mari returns with the bottle of wine, already corked. “Pardon,” she says, aware of the uncomfortable tension. “Did you want me to bring this to the dining table?”
My mom straightens her spine and points at the table before her. “No, here is fine.” She doesn’t clear away any of the empty wine bottles, so Mari sets the merlot down and cleans the small tabletop.
My mother doesn’t wait for her to leave the room before filling one of the glasses. She moves to the next glass to do the same. I should ignore her. It’s not as if calling her out will change a thing. Still. It’s so damn frustrating that after everything she still undermines my sobriety.