by Mary Smith
“Bas, I’d like to welcome you to The New Outlook.” Caryn announces as we’re about halfway down the hall.
“The New Outlook?” Had there been an old outlook? I mean, the place seems to be updated, but I can’t be sure since this is my first time here.
“The New Outlook is my baby.” She grins. “It’s a four-month drug and alcohol rehab center.”
I stop. “Holy fuck.” I gasp louder than I mean to. Are they expecting me to go to rehab? Are they forcing me into rehab? I’m turning to bolt to the door when Oliver grabs my arm.
“You just need to listen to her. If you want to go home after her tour than we can.” His low tone is just enough for us both to hear and no one else.
I can tell he’s telling the truth and I do owe Caryn since I missed the appointment this morning. I give in and turn back to her. She gives me a small smile.
“There’s ten rooms here. Currently all are taken.” She starts the tour, ascending the stairs. “We have a full staff, along with three more therapists. They’re here twenty-four hours a day.” She turns to the right. “We handle it all, especially withdrawals.” Her tone changes. “That’s the hardest part of coming down from drugs and alcohol.”
I experience the sweats and shakes, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m not doing hard-core drugs, so I’m sure it’s something I can handle.
If I need to, which I don’t.
“This is our suicide room.” She stops in front of the last door in the hall. “It’s hard for someone to go through the process and sometimes the darkness outweighs the light.” She directs her comment at me, boring into my eyes.
I hang my head. I can’t look at her. She goes on talking about The New Outlook and the purpose of it, but I’m not really listening to any of it. I just want to leave. The walls are closing in on me. I can’t breathe. The sweat is beading on my forehead, and I keep wiping it away.
Somehow, I manage to finish the blasted tour, and we’re all standing at Oliver’s car.
“What did you think?” Oliver questions.
“Looks like you’re doing great work.” I tell Caryn.
She gives me a small smile. “Thank you, Bas. Will I see you tomorrow?”
I nod. “I swear.” I can’t go through another Oliver field trip. At least they’re not trying to lock me up.
“See you then.” She hugs Oliver before going back into the mansion…er…rehab.
Quickly, I get in the car, wiping my brow again, ready to go home. When Oliver slides into his seat, I keep my focus ahead and hope the driver gets back to the apartment building in record time.
Oliver didn’t speak to me on the drive back to my place. Once his car leaves, I walk down the block and purchase two bottles of vodka, a few candy bars, and a handful of protein bars. Back at my apartment, I drink until the dark fog takes over, letting me sleep.
Mum and Dad loved to ski. We took at least two holidays high into the mountains to ski. My brothers and I are naturals and I felt…happy on the snow. I can’t even remember the last time I felt happy. Maybe with Erin. It had to be with her. I guess drinking makes me happy…maybe not.
“Bas.” Dad calls my name, and I run—as best as I can—in the snow to him.
“Yes, Dad?”
“You need to be strong.” He places his hand on my shoulders. “You have to do this.”
“Do what?” I ask confused on what he’s talking about.
He nods behind me. There, on the ski slope, is The New Outlook mansion. “I don’t have a problem.” I shout.
“Bas.” Mum appears next to him. “Be strong. We know you can do this.”
“I killed you.” I sob, falling to my knees. The snow temporarily numbs me.
“Save yourself before it’s too late.” Dad tells me.
“Too late?”
“Don’t let time slip away from you.” He continues.
What do they mean? I killed them, and they’re worried about me.
“Hurry, go. Hurry.” Mum pushes me. “Go! Go!”
I face the mansion, but I can’t move. The snow is now concrete. I tug and tug on my legs, but they don’t budge.
Mum yells, “Hurry! Faster!”
But I’m locked in place, still stuck to the ground. “Mum, help.” I beg, but they’re gone. I look up the slope and The New Outlook is gone. I’m standing alone as a massive rumble comes from the top of the hill.
Avalanche!
I wake up on the floor of my bedroom with the blankets all around me. I must have rolled out of bed. Shit, when did I go to bed? I remember drinking and…
The dream.
Mum’s words come flooding back to me. How am I remembering my dreams? I never have before. I manage to find my mobile and see I have plenty of time to get ready for my appointment with Caryn.
The freezing cold shower brings me to the present, and I somehow don’t feel like absolute rubbish when I step out. However, the dream keeps coming to the forefront of my brain. I don’t understand what’s happening with it all. None of it makes sense. I guess dreams don’t make sense.
Knock. Knock.
I pray it’s not Oliver wanting to take me to my appointment. I don’t think I can handle him two days in a row.
“Erin.” My heart skips a beat.
“Hi.” She has a shy smile on her face. “I made waffles and thought you might like some.” She hands me a plate.
I know her well enough to know this is a peace offering for her running away the other day. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She heads back to her apartment.
“You want to join me?” I ask before I chicken out.
“Sure.” She comes into my place and heads to the breakfast bar. “How’s it going?”
“Good, I guess.” Hell, I don’t have a fucking clue how it’s going. The dream is still spinning around in my head, and I really want a drink. It’ll help me clear all of this up. “What about you?”
“Okay. In between jobs.” She shrugs.
“Oh, I thought the one job was a good thing.”
“It was, but it’s finished now. Just need to figure out what’s next.” She glances around the place, and I know she’s inspecting it. I bet she has the urge to get up and clean it this very instant.
“I’m sure you’ll find something.” She’s never in between jobs for long.
“What are you doing today?”
“I have an appointment with Caryn in a little bit, then I’ll hit the gym. You?”
“Nothing, I guess.”
I put a waffle on a paper plate and set it in front of her.
“Thank you.” She picks up a fork and cuts into it.
“Usually, you’re always doing something. You okay?” I push a bit. I know Erin is a workaholic.
She nods, but she drops her fork.
“You’re not okay.” I walk around the breakfast bar and stand next to her.
“No.” Her answer is barely a whisper.
“Talk to me.” I turn her to face me.
She looks up at me with her big blue eyes. “I miss my friend.”
I wrap her up in my arms. Feeling her tiny ones around me still makes my heart race. Just like the first time. “I’m still your friend and always will be.” I kiss the top of her head.
“You’re going through a hard time and you don’t need my shit.” She mumbles into my chest.
“I miss my friend too.” I tell her. Kissing the top of her head again. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I do worry.” She pulls back but neither of us releases the other. “We’ve been fighting, yelling, and I know we both care for each other.”
Erin is never vulnerable, only when something is seriously wrong. “I care for you. I want you to talk to me. I know something is wrong.” I push a strand of hair out of her face.
“Victoria asked me about my family, and it brought up some emotions I thought I already dealt with, but apparently had not.” Her eyes begin to water.
I know her family is
shit. She’s told me all about it. Plus, she doesn’t talk about it often. We’ve both respected our family privacy. It’s something I admire about her.
“Let’s talk.” I take her by the hand and pull her to the couch. Right now, she needs me and nothing else matters.
As soon as we sit down she spills out a million words. Her parents were, in my opinion, thieves. They got money from people through lies. They even used Erin in these scams. Erin has a pure heart. A heart of gold. I can’t imagine how difficult it was for her, especially as a child. Tears roll down her cheeks as she grows angry for not having parents who cared for her.
“I shouldn’t let this bother me, especially this many years later.” She wipes her cheeks.
“You should be upset.” I pull her back into my arms. She feels good there. Like she belongs.
She does belong in my arms.
“Thanks for listening.” She smiles up at me. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”
Happiness fills me. “Yes, I’d love to.”
She gives me a small peck on the cheek. “Go to therapy. I’ll see you later.”
When she gets up to leave, I suddenly feel empty without her by my side.
“I want to discuss two things.” Caryn holds up her fingers. “First, the dream. Second, Erin.”
I told her all about the dream because it’s still weighing heavily on me. However, I left out my drinking. I’m most surprised Caryn has not mentioned The New Outlook. I figured she would have grilled me about it but nothing.
“What do you think the dream means to you?” She inquires.
“I think I have a lot on my mind and that’s the outcome.” I know dreams are just our subconscious, so I don’t know what the hell to think it means. “You’re the professional. Shouldn’t you be telling me what’s the meaning?”
She smirks. “I prefer my patients’ interpretations rather than my own.”
I softly chuckle. I enjoy talking to Caryn because she isn’t like the stereotypical therapist. Not that I would know what one is like but I’m guessing. “I don’t know what it means. I just know I had a dream.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, and I know she wants me to say more, but I don’t have anything more to say.
“Then let’s talk about Erin. You’ve not really said much about her.”
I shrug. “She’s my neighbor. When I moved in, she had introduced herself and we became fast friends.”
“Do you sleep with her?”
I had prepared myself for the question. Caryn is nosy, but it’s her job. “A few times, but she’s truly my best mate.” I smile at the words. “She’s the only one in my life I can count on.”
“Why?”
“Because she sees my flaws, and they don’t scare her away. In fact, she calls me out on them.” We have argued a lot in the past couple months, but somehow we find our way back to each other.
“Do you want more than a friendship?” She taps her pen on the notebook that’s resting on her lap.
“Yes,” I answer without thinking. “But she’s not wanting one. I’d rather her stay my friend than have nothing at all. Even though I have treated her like shit, she’s someone I rely on.”
“Have you discussed it with her.”
I shake my head.
“Why do you treat her like shit?”
Rubbing my forehead, I don’t want to answer her. I have divulged a lot today, and I’m not sure if this is something I want to dive into right now.
“Bas, why do you treat her badly?” She rephrases the question.
“There are times I like to be alone.”
“Well, that’s normal, but you’re not really answering me.” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes.
“I’ve been on my own for a long time. Having her in my life—full-time—can complicate it.” There I go again, confessing my soul to Caryn. “I don’t want to talk anymore.” My palms become clammy and sweat begins to trickle down my neck.
“Okay. We won’t talk about it anymore.” She respects my wish. “How about you come back tomorrow and you can tell me how dinner goes?”
I nod, quickly stand, and leave the office.
Chapter Ten
Erin
I’m a strong woman, but for the past twenty-four hours, I have not been strong at all. I know Victoria asking about my family wasn’t some cruel trick. She had been curious, which is understandable. Albeit, it brought up feelings and emotions I buried a long time ago.
It all made me think of Bas. He’s my friend. Do I want to explore more options with him? Yes, but he needs to take care of himself first and foremost. And he needs a support system and I’m all he really has. Actually, he’s all I have. We need each other. Making him waffles was a bribe and a peace offering at the same time. I knew he’d open the door for food. Breaking down in tears wasn’t my plan. Being in his arms made me feel safe and reminded me of our last time together. I fell asleep in his arms and woke up the same way. I think—no, I know—it’s the day I fell in love with him. But I kept my feelings to myself.
Making Bas’ favorite dinner keeps a smile on my face. Lemon pepper grilled chicken, asparagus, and garlic bread caused Bas to moan with every bite when I made it for him before. I check the time and I figure he will be here soon. I check my outfit. Keeping it casual, I chose a fitted sweater, jeggings, and a pair of pink flats, which are almost identical to my sweater.
I plate the food, putting it on the table with two glasses of water. I take a seat at the dining room table, pick up my phone and scroll through Twitter. It doesn’t seem like a lot is going on so I bring up my emails and answer a few.
Checking the clock again, I know the food will grow cold if he doesn’t get here soon. Dread begins to fill me worrying about the truth of why he’s not here. I make my way to his apartment and knock loudly on the door.
“Bas, open up.” I shout. I can feel down to my toes he’s passed out.
“Bas!” I grit. I wait a couple more seconds before going back into my apartment and getting his spare key.
My dreaded feeling is confirmed when my eyes land on him, sitting on the couch, vodka bottle in hand. Did he even notice I cleaned his place today? Probably not because he doesn’t even notice me standing in his place.
“Bas, what the ever-living fuck?” I cross my arms. My temper is ready to explode. I had worked hard for everything to be perfect today, and he fucks it all up.
He answers me by taking a large gulp from the bottle. Tears burn my eyes. I seriously thought tonight would be like old times. A time when he didn’t get trashed in front of me. A time when he would talk to me, have fun with me, be with me.
“I’m a fucking wanker.” His gruff English voice is low.
“Right now, I completely agree with you.”
“I don’t want to be this way toward you.” He takes another drink.
“Sure have a hell of a way of showing it.” Grumbling, I continue to stand there with crossed arms.
“I had a bad day.” He leans his head back on the couch and for a second, I’m not sure what he means, but he’s sad.
“Why?”
“Because.” He groans but doesn’t elaborate.
Now, I know something is wrong. “Bas.” I drop my arms and slowly approach him.
“Caryn made me talk about feelings.” He sips from the bottle.
“I think it’s in her job description.” I joke lightly to break up some of the tension.
“I know.” He sighs, taking another swig of vodka. “I just don’t know anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I sit down on the other end of the couch.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“I know you can’t, but deep down, you should and want to.” I place my hand on his thigh, trying to give him the strength to open up.
He shakes his head.
“Okay. Okay, you don’t have to talk about it. We’ll just sit here.” I move closer to him and lay my head on his shoulder. The smell from the bottl
e burns my nostrils, but I stay next to him.
I don’t know how long we have been sitting here, but I will sit here all night for him. I can’t have him go down any further into this drunken rabbit hole. I have to be here for him, without being an enabler.
“We talked about you.”
Lifting my head slightly, I glance up at him. His eyes are closed. “What was said?” I hope my question doesn’t close him up.
He stays quiet for several seconds before saying, “My feelings.”
My heart leaps into my throat. What feelings? He has feelings for me? I mean, I know he likes me as a friend, but this seems to be…more.
“I have feelings for you.” It’s a whisper just loud enough for me to hear.
I keep my emotions in check because I want to hear this. I have to hear this. I sit perfectly still as if I’m a statue.
“I’m not someone who has feelings.” He continues softly. “But I do and handling these emotions isn’t something I do.”
Squeezing his thigh, I remain silent. Although, I hope he continues talking. I know he’s not one to pour his heart out on a whim. He and I are alike in that situation. We keep everything inside. He deals with his by drinking. I deal with mine by hiding behind my computers.
“I’m shit and I still can’t understand how we’re friends.” He keeps talking. “I’m lucky to have you, but I don’t do anything for you.”
I lift my head, pulling away slightly, shocked. “Bas, you’re wrong.”
He stares at me.
“When you don’t drink, you’re funny, caring, and intelligent. It’s when you drink I don’t want to be around you. Wait, let me rephrase that. When you’re drunk and have reached the point of no return I don’t want to be around you. You become mean, hateful, and I can’t stand Drunk Bas.”
He turns away from me, and I believe I went too far. I let my mouth run when I should have shut up.
“I know.” He sighs. “I’ve been sitting here thinking.”
“About what?”
“Everything.” His almost inaudible word makes my stomach drop. Is this the realization of how severe his drinking has become? Or is it something else?