“Oh, I started that when I was young,” he waved a hand dismissively as he chuckled. “My whole family was a bunch of drinkers who were into working hard and playing harder. The Navy was a tame version of what I’d grown up with, so I fit right in. And I could usually outdrink everyone. The problem was that in my family there was a strict line between work and play, and you knew when to stop playing and start working. In the Navy, that line got blurred after boot camp, and I watched a lot of really good sailors get sucked under when they couldn’t figure out where to draw it.”
“What do you mean? I thought you guys were under strict orders and that you couldn’t get away with stuff or you’d be kicked out.” I was confused, but intrigued at this inside look into his life.
“It’s not like the movies, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said with a wry look. “We don’t have drill sergeants barking at us 24/7, and while we’re expected to keep things in tip-top shape, there’s a whole lot of leeway once you’re out of basic training. It’s like with anything, really. The rules start out super strict and then kind of lose their grip the more you know how to circumvent them.”
“Oh, I get it,” I said. “It’s like boarding school. They crack down on the first years and then ease up when they know you know the rules, and you figure out how to work around them without totally flaunting that you’re breaking them.”
“Yeah, kind of like that,” he said with an eye roll. “The Navy is totally like a rich boarding school.”
“You know what I mean!” I laughed as I tossed a pillow at his head and narrowly missed.
“That aim might be good enough for boarding school, but you’d never make it in the Navy,” he laughed as he picked up the pillow and tossed it back at me, hitting me squarely in the face.
“Well, I’m not a trained assassin!” I laughed harder. Brian stopped laughing and looked away. I waited for a moment and then offered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know,” he said. “Just hit a little too close to home.”
“So, you were telling me about how you stopped drinking,” I reminded him.
“A lot of the story is about how I started,” he said as he picked at the hem of my bedspread. “It became a habit while I was over here in the States, and then once we were deployed to Iraq, it became a necessity. It’s boring over there, a lot of sand and heat and not a lot to do when you’re not out on a mission. So, we lifted weights, played video games, and drank.”
“So it was the habit that made you stop?” I asked.
“No, it was the nightmares,” he said as he stood up and walked over to the window. “I couldn’t control the nightmares when I drank, so I saw a shrink and he told me to stop drinking.”
“And you did? Just like that?”
“No, not ‘just like that’” he laughed sadly. “It took a stint in rehab to get dried out and then they tried to send me to a shrink to make sure it stuck, but I said no thanks. I’m fine with just not being drunk, I don’t need some doctor picking at my brain to find out why I’m drinking. I already know why.”
“So, you went to rehab?” I asked.
“Yeah, I had to get out of the environment I was in so that I had a fighting chance of quitting,” he watched me as he explained. “After I was discharged, I didn’t have a job lined up or anything, so I had to go back home for a while, but home is where the whole thing got worse.”
“How so?”
“Well, like I said, they’re hard
workers and hard drinkers, so I fit right in,” he stopped and looked away for a long while before turning back to face me. “They didn’t understand what had happened to me in Iraq. Hell, I don’t think I understood what had happened to me, but the nightmares got worse when I was home. I knew there was a problem, but I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. All I wanted to do was drink it away.”
“But if the drinking was making it worse, why did you keep doing it?” I asked.
“My life isn’t like yours, Ava,” he explained. “I don’t have a whole lot of options, you know? The VA makes you wait for everything, so even if I’d wanted treatment, I couldn’t have gotten it for months, but at that point, I didn’t even want it. I hadn’t hit bottom yet.”
Not knowing what to say, I simply nodded as I listened. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant when he said that his life wasn’t like mine, but I knew if I listened, he’d explain.
“It wasn’t until the night that I wrapped my car around a utility pole on a dark county road and walked away without a scratch that I realized I had a real problem.” He took a deep breath. “I could have died, or worse, killed someone else, and, at that moment, I knew that if I didn’t get my drinking under control I most likely would.”
“It’s a miracle that you weren’t killed,” I whispered.
“Don’t think I don’t know that,” he said. “I thank the higher power every single day that I wake up!”
“So if you’re sober, then why were you so mad about what happened last night?” I asked.
“Look Ava, I know it’s hard for someone who has never had a problem with alcohol to understand, but it’s not something that ever goes away,” he turned and stared at me as he talked. “I haven’t lost the urge to drink, I’ve just gotten better at managing it, but last night reminded me how little it would take for me to tip it back over to the other side, and I just don’t want to find myself in the position of having to make that choice.”
“I’m so sorry, Brian,” I apologized. “I had no idea. I’m sorry that I took you to that party and I’m sorry I put you in that position.”
“No apology necessary,” he waved me off. “You didn’t know.”