One Chance

by Best, Victoria J.

  Once we were out on the sidewalk and the car drove away, Nicolette turned to me, a loud laugh bursting from her mouth.

  “We gave him quite a show,” she said, struggling to catch her breath from laughing so hard.

  I waved a hand in dismissal. “It was probably the highlight of his day.”

  Nicolette chuckled and shrugged. “Who knows?”

  We were still laughing as we approached the restaurant. Pushing through the door first, I looked around for my cousin and Liza. They were seated in the back corner, their heads close, talking. I felt like we were intruding on a private moment as we walked up. It was my turn to clear my throat.

  “I’m sorry we’re late,” Nicolette said sweetly.

  “It’s fine,” Jax said, his voice gruff.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Nikki had to go home to change.”

  Liza smiled at her. “It’s not a big deal. We really just got here ourselves.” She shot Jackson a sideways look, her eyes a little haunted.

  Not wanting to get caught up in Jax’s drama, I chose to ignore it.

  Liza looked at Nicolette next and mouthed something to her, before looking down at her menu. I wanted to be able to ignore that exchange but was worried it was about me. The need for a drink gripped the back of my throat. I cleared it again and picked up my menu to hide my face.

  Nicolette leaned into me. “Is everything okay?”

  I turned to her, and when I looked into her eyes, something inside of me calmed. I wanted a drink, desperately, but Nicolette managed to bring me solidly back to earth for a bit.

  “It’s hard not to order a drink,” I admitted.

  Worry clouded her eyes, and her nose scrunched up. “Oh, right. I’m sorry. Do you want to go?”

  I shook my head. “No. I want to do this, for you. Would it be terrible if I just had one—to take the edge off? Until I can figure out how to control this thing?”

  I was asking her for permission, which I knew I didn’t need. Maybe it wasn’t so much that I felt like I needed her permission, but that I needed her to tell me what I was feeling was normal, part of the process.

  Her brows furrowed. “Don’t do it for me, Henry. Do it for you. I’m not a therapist or an expert, so I can’t tell you what to do. If you think it will help, get a drink.”

  She was right, and I knew that. I nodded slowly, unsure. But I knew if I didn’t do something, I’d ruin brunch as the craving got stronger.

  I had to make a choice.

  When the waitress arrived again, all moony-eyed over Jackson, I ordered a Bloody Mary. Jax shot me a dark look across the table. I mouthed, “Let it go,” as the women ordered. As we waited, the only thing I could focus on was the imminent arrival of my drink. It was a dark, cloying need that made everything else fade away. Shame quickly replaced anything else I was feeling. The more shame I felt, the more I wanted the drink, and so I sank into a spiral. By the time the drink came, I was so wound up, I thought I would detonate.

  “Henry?” Nicolette had been shooting me sideways glances for the last fifteen minutes, apprehension and curiosity cinching the skin between her brows.

  “It’s all right. I’m fine,” I said. Under the table I clenched and unclenched my hands as I waited for the waitress to set the drink in front of me because I had the urge to rip it from her hand.

  I moved as slowly and deliberately as I could, picking the glass up and downing as much of the drink as I could in one gulp, some of it dribbling down my chin with my haste. Immediately, the vodka began to spread through me, over me, calming my nerves and dulling my senses as I took another long gulp. The others at the table watched me, especially Jax and Nicolette, their warring emotions of disappointment and fear penetrating my yet-to-be vodka-clouded brain. This only made me want to drink more, and when the waitress returned with our meals, I ordered another drink to replace the one I had already finished.

  Jax was ignoring me, embroiled in something with Liza, but Nicolette was hyper-focused on me. Even though the vodka was starting to numb everything, it couldn’t take away the imprint of Nicolette’s worried cobalt eyes on my brain. She pushed her food around on her plate, not eating.

  Everything was falling apart already.

  All the declarations I’d made last night, all the promises I uttered and all the things I wanted to change about myself, evaporated in the cold, harsh light of day. It was dissolving right before my very eyes and I felt powerless to stop it. Because where Nicolette was strong, I was weak.

  Last night seemed like a hundred years ago, and I longed to go back and tell Nicolette to run far away from me, because no matter how many promises I made, I would never keep one of them.

  Chapter 10

  Nicolette

  “Okay?” I heard Liza say. I had no idea what she’d said before that because my focus was solely on Henry.

  In my head I was counting his drinks—one, two, three? Did he really have three in the last half hour? I was worried for him, worried he would go back on the things he’d said last night. Not because I needed him to keep the promises to me, but because he deserved to see what he could be without the alcohol.

  Because he could be so much more.

  “So, Liza, Mother seems to really favor you,” Henry said.

  “I like her too. She’s quite the businesswoman,” Liza responded with a smile.

  “Ah, yes. She loves her company, that’s for sure.” Henry took a swig of his drink.

  I cringed at his bitter tone. This wasn’t the man I was getting to know. This wasn’t the Henry that held me last night while we talked, gently rubbing little circles on my arm. Who was he?

  I leaned towards him as he finished the last of his drink. “Maybe we should go?”

  I had no appetite for the food in front of me and I couldn’t focus on the conversation.

  “Am I embarrassing you?” Henry snapped.

  He was firmly pissed, slurring and churlish. This wasn’t the same man who’d held my hand in the car on the way over.

  “Please, Henry. Let’s just go. We can find you a meeting today, if you want.” Somehow, I knew my trying to reason with him wouldn’t work.

  “I’m a lost cause, Nic. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  I looked to Liza for help, but she only gave me a slight shrug. This wasn’t their fight and I knew it.

  “I think it’s time for you to go,” Jackson snapped at Henry after they went back and forth about his mother some more.

  Regret clouded Henry’s emerald eyes. A pang gripped my chest. He was in there, my Henry, the person I was becoming fond of. I just had to find him. With one last look of thanks towards Jackson, I stood, helping Henry up. He leaned on me, stumbling and cursing, as we left the restaurant.

  “I’m gonna flag down a cab,” I said, stepping to the curb, waving my arms.

  After several tries, a cab finally pulled to the curb. I opened the door, pushing Henry in before climbing in behind him. I gave the driver directions to Henry’s apartment and sat back, resting my head on the seat with my eyes closed as I tried not to cry. How had a wonderful night and morning turned into this? An ache lodged solidly in my gut, twisting like a knife every time I glanced at Henry. He looked out the window, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists in his lap. I knew he was going to blame himself, take this out on himself, because that was just what we did. We were the same in that way.

  I wanted him to see that it wasn’t his fault, but I didn’t know how to make that happen.

  I reached for his hand. “Henry.”

  He pulled away from me, turning more towards the window. “Don’t, Nicolette. I told you I didn’t know how to do this.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed.”

  He finally turned towards me, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. “You do not have to apologize to me. I’m the asshole who ruined brunch because I couldn’t stop drinking. This is on me.” He jabbed a finger into his chest as he spoke.

  Tears clogged my throat. “Hen
ry, no. It’s not your fault. Please, let me help you.”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No. This is what I tried to warn you about. I’m beyond help. Ask my mother. I’m a lost cause. Don’t waste your time on me, Nicolette. I don’t deserve it.”

  I tried to reach for him again, but the cab stopped. Before I could lean over, Henry jumped out, tossed a few bills into the driver’s window, and disappeared into the building. The tears I had been holding back since we’d left the restaurant began to fall, hard and fast. Somehow, I managed to tell the driver where I lived, paid him, stumbled out of the cab and up to my apartment. But after that, I fell onto my bed, all alone, and began to sob because it was finally dawning on me that maybe there was no way to save Henry and me.

  Chapter 11

  Henry

  My head was pounding behind my eyes. I wasn’t even sure what time it was or where I was. It was dark, quiet, and I was alone. That much I knew. I opened my eyes slowly, closing them again when the room spun a little. How much did I have to drink this time?

  Slowly, as if on a montage reel, the memory of the day before came back with blinding clarity. Nicolette, the restaurant—all of it flooded my brain in a way that made my head throb even more. She had to be furious with me. I would be lucky if she ever deigned to speak to me again.

  I rolled over, my feet touching the floor, though my eyes were still closed. Groaning, I stood up, finally managing to open my eyes. I squinted against what little light was coming in through the breaks in the curtains. My hand went over my eyes and I groaned again. Shuffling to the bathroom, my stomach suddenly roiling, I moved my head slowly from side to side to locate something to put on. Just before I made it to the bathroom, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt hanging over the back of the chair in the corner caught my eye. I pulled them on gingerly, not moving my head very much with the effort. Sweat dotted my brow when I was finished. For the fiftieth time in the last two days, I wondered why I liked drinking so much.

  This was a new development. Normally, I didn’t care how the hell I felt after drinking too much.

  The next hour was rough, and I spent it in the bathroom, but managed to shower and get dressed in real clothes after not too long. This wasn’t how it always was—extreme hangovers and day drinking. Some days I only had two drinks every few hours, some days, the really bad ones, I drank all day until I blacked out, and then the next morning worse than the one I was currently in. But the main thing was, I never went a whole day without drinking something alcoholic.

  Until recently, I never cared how much or how little I drank. Until recently, I hadn’t even realized that my drinking was a problem.

  After my shower, I sat on the couch, legs propped on the coffee table, squinting at my cell phone. I wanted to call Nicolette. I wanted to apologize. But instead, I went over and over in my head how I got here.

  I had been a social drinker back in college—frat parties, house parties, any-time parties. My mom and Jackson ran the business, and the understanding was that I would join them after graduation. And I had. I took over the marketing team, worked with my dad for a while before I was able to take over myself. I had the grades, the degree, and the experience. But being young and rich in Manhattan must have gotten to me. No, it did get to me. The last five years had been an alcohol- and- women-infused daze.

  I was ready to get off the ride and make amends.

  Suddenly, I didn’t want to call Nicolette. Not yet. I knew I would just make what sounded like empty promises to her. I had things to do before I talked to her again.

  * * *

  “So, every Tuesday and Thursday night?” I asked as the woman handed me the pamphlet.

  She bobbed her head, her dark brown bob jiggling with the movement. “Yes. And either I will be here, or Jackie.” She pointed at the woman across the room who was taking down chairs and stowing them in a utility closet.

  “Right. Thanks, Rachel,” I said, sticking my hand out for her to shake.

  Rachel shook my hand, a slight flush creeping up her cheeks. I smiled, tucked the brochure in my back pocket, and exited the church out into the late-November sunshine.

  I’d done it. I’d gone to an AA meeting. Granted, I had arrived just as the meeting was ending, but I made it there, spoke to the director, and found out exactly what time to get there for the next meeting. Tuesdays at seven pm.

  My phone rang as I stepped out on to the sidewalk. I glanced at my watch to see who it was. My mother. I blew out a breath, debating whether to answer or not. This was the first time she’d called me in days. What would I tell her? I was way downtown, just in case someone saw me. The last thing I needed was to embarrass my family even more than I already had. Though I think seeing me leave an AA meeting would be better than being drunk and disorderly in a restaurant.

  That was why she was calling me.

  “Mother,” I answered the phone just before it went to voicemail.

  “Henry. Where are you? Have you seen the headlines today?”

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I walked to the corner to hail a taxi. “I’m fine, Mother. How are you?”

  She snorted. Beatrice Radcliffe-Rogers actually snorted. “I don’t think this is a time for joking, Henry. Have you seen the headlines?”

  “No, Mother, I haven’t. I don’t care about the headlines the way you do.”

  A taxi pulled up to the curb as I spoke and I hopped in, rattling off the address for Nicolette’s apartment as I covered my phone’s mouthpiece.

  “Well, not all of us have the luxury to pretend like they don’t exist, Henry.” I could tell by her voice that her lips were pursed and that she was playing with the pearl necklace she always had around her neck.

  I blew out a breath with exasperation. Why had I answered the phone? “Mother, can I call you back?”

  “No, Henry, you can’t call me back. Unlike you, I’m working, and I have a meeting with the designers in less than fifteen minutes. If you want to speak to me, leave a message with my assistant and I’ll call you back later. I simply called to make sure that you were going to be at the therapist’s this evening with your father and me. I think we all could use a session after yesterday.” She rattled off insult after insult and I let them slide off my back like water on a duck’s down. Mere days ago, I would have gone right to a bar after she spoke to me that way and downed several drinks before coming up for air. But now, I was heading to speak to Nicolette, and I wasn’t going to let my mother make me feel like I was less than anymore.

  “Fine, Mother. I’ll leave a message with Angela later, and if you want to call me back before I see you tonight, you can do that. I have some errands to run before then.”

  I hung up without saying goodbye.

  Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up to the curb at Nicolette’s building. I swiped my card, left a hefty tip, and stepped out of the car. Looking up at the building, I walked slowly to the door, the pamphlet for the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting burning a hole in my pocket. What if she turned me away and refused to talk to me? My palms were sweating as I approached the door, and I took another deep breath. The doorman opened it wide, giving me a short greeting. I smiled, unable to speak because nerves had suddenly overtaken me. This wasn’t like me. I didn’t get nervous about women.

  I had the sudden inclination to turn around and run.

  The elevator doors slid open as I stood there, deciding whether or not to press the button. I wanted to see Nicolette, more than I had ever wanted to do anything—even drink.

  And just like that, she was standing in front of me.

  “Henry? What are you doing here?” Her eyes were wide as she stepped from the elevator and stopped directly in front of me.

  “I, uh, I wanted to apologize. For yesterday, for everything,” I launched right into the apology, right there in the lobby of her building.

  “It’s okay, Henry, you don’t have to apologize,” she said, though something in her eyes told me she didn’t really believe that.

/>   I shook my head. “I do. I’m not apologizing for drinking. I’m apologizing for how I acted. For how I let the alcohol get to me.”

  Nicolette stood there, not speaking, as I sweated in front of her. I wanted her to forgive me, but I also would have understood if she didn’t. I didn’t deserve her acceptance. She didn’t owe me anything. The elevator doors behind her slid open again and a woman with a fur coat and a tiny dog under one arm stepped out. She eyed us warily, frowning as she squeezed past where we stood.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Nicolette said once the woman had passed, shooting us disapproving glances and speaking in hushed tones to the doorman and pointing at us emphatically.

  “Okay. Leave it to me to cause a scene in your lobby,” I said with a nervous laugh as we boarded the elevator.

  Nicolette rolled her eyes. “No. Mrs. Stern doesn’t approve of Liza and me living alone in that large apartment. She’s told me that almost every day since we moved in over a year ago. She’ll call my father next. How she has his number I don’t know.”

  What she left unsaid was that she would have to explain me to her father.

  We rode the rest of the way in silence. I followed her out of the elevator and down the hall to their apartment. Nicolette unlocked the door, and we stepped over the threshold and into the small entryway. She set her purse and keys on the table by the door before walking into the kitchen.

  “Do you want something to drink?” she asked as she puttered around the kitchen, not looking at me.

  “I’m fine. I actually just came from a meeting.”

  “A meeting?” she asked without turning around, not catching my emphasis on the word “meeting.”

  “Yeah, downtown.”

  “Was it for a job?” She glanced at me over her shoulder as she pushed an empty mug with a tea bag in it under her coffee maker.