It isn’t a lie. I’ve heard of others celebrating their first year sober. Trish’s one-year mark both times had been celebrated, and the little non-alcoholic parties are still recounted. But I’ve never expected anyone to throw me anything at all. I just want to make up for all the crap I’ve put everyone through. I don’t deserve a celebration. They all deserve to know I’m not going to fuck them over again. Every single one of them.
How do I explain it, though?
Shrugging, I shake my head, staring at my plate again. “I don’t know,” I finally force out. “I don’t – I don’t really want to do anything.”
“Then we can just stay in and watch movies or whatever,” Owen smooths over, saving me from having to explain myself without knowing the proper words to say.
“I’d like that,” I agree, knowing if I don’t go along with even the simplest of things, they’ll hound me until the day after my year of sobriety.
“Well, it’s settled then. We can invite Marcy as well,” Devon continues, but I go deaf after those words.
All hope of just us two is shattered. It’s one thing to eat meals together, but that’s as far as it generally goes. Otherwise, we each live our own lives. Me, mostly inside the comfort of the apartment or at meetings. I don’t have a whole lot of time for more of a life besides the two places. My social life took a dump and was flushed down when I turned to sobriety. Marcy visits on holiday breaks from school. It’s about the only time I get to see her. Besides those times, it’s a pretty lonely life here. The guys work way too much. Not that I can blame them, though. It doesn’t matter that daddy’s paying for the apartment, other bills still need to be paid, and they aren’t the kind of lazy men who’d take advantage of the situation.
Still, I know that when it comes time, Marcy will hurry back in a heartbeat to celebrate, no matter what time of the year it is.
I feel the corners of my lips twitch at the idea of being able to celebrate with the people I love the most. In honor of me. “Can we possibly do it at my parents?”
Surprise flashes in their eyes, but both their lips curl upwards in smiles.
“Of course, we can. I’m sure your parents would love that,” Devon announces.
My heart squeezes. My mother had stepped in after his mom passed away. Their bond does make me slightly jealous as it’s one I know I can never have with her. Ours was irreparably damaged when I pushed her down the stairs, broke her leg, and then went after her with a knife. Sure, I’d been intoxicated with whatever drugs I’d been on at the time, but I still dream about it. It's the thing I’m not sure I’d ever make up for. It’s also one thing I will never allow myself to forget, so I can work tirelessly to make it up to her.
“They’re going to be very proud, you know. I know both will be,” Devon assures me, his tone gentle.
It’s the therapist tone he uses with his clients and when I need to be talked down. It’s the same tone my brother-in-law uses with me when I sit in on sessions in his office. No surprise. Devon had learned from him, after all.
I stick out my tongue at him. “Don’t patronize me,” I warn and stand.
The movement is too quick, and I lean forward, grabbing the edge of the table. Something feels off, but I can’t quite figure it out. I grip the table's edge and heave in a slow breath, trying to gather my bearings.
“Gracie?” Owen asks, alarm shooting in his voice as he scoots his chair across the ground and stands to check on me.
I shake my head and raise a hand to stop him. “I’m fine. I just stood too fast and got a little dizzy, that’s all.”
My eyes flash up in time to see the two men share a questioning glance, both with lips pursed. I narrow my eyes at them but keep my mouth shut, knowing it will just be useless to poke at their looks. They won’t tell me; I know that. They have a bond between them, and apparently, it’s the bullshit “bros before hoes” crap guys babble about here and there.
Exhaling slowly, I look down at my plate of delivered food. I no longer have the stomach for it, which is very strange. I once used to eat any and everything. These days, it's pick-and-choose. When I got high, I couldn’t. When I came down, I would be starving for plates on end of food. These days, I’m just all over the place. One day I can be starving; the next, I can’t stomach a single thing. It’s a work in progress to get back to normal. I’ve got to be careful not to overdo it or underdo it.
“I’m going to take a shower.” I smile wanly, desperate to get away from them before I do or say something stupid that I can’t take back.
I retreat to the planned destination and shut the door, dropping to the toilet to grasp for air that shudders my lungs. Sometimes, it isn’t the easiest thing in the world to have to deal with the rush that a new life brings. I still don’t know which cracks to begin smoothing over to mend everything broken around me. I’m just living at this point, day by day. It’s working, somewhat so far. I just don’t know for how much longer it will last.
A rap on the apartment's front door draws my attention, and I pull myself to my feet before sidling to the bathroom door and popping it open just a crack. Pressing my ear to it, I catch wind of grating laughter. My teeth clench at the familiar sound, twisting my heart in my chest as I slowly shut the door, trying to keep as quiet as possible.
Donna’s here, and I do not doubt that Kate has followed behind. That stupid girl sure loves to make sure I know I’m nothing more than a simple third wheel. Donna doesn’t like Kate, and even I know that. She’s a bitch, the biggest of them all. The Queen B.
Unable to contain myself, I yank open the door and step back out of the bathroom, flashing them sarcastic smiles.
“Thought you were getting in the shower,” Owen comments, discomfort twisting his face as Donna slides an arm through his, glowering at me.
“I was, I will,” I state simply, avoiding Donna’s look.
Once I get around the furniture, her possessiveness of Owen seems to grow. It isn’t that hard to miss. It also doesn’t help that her doing so clearly makes Owen uncomfortable. I know him well enough to know he likes his space, and Donna is one to not give it despite demanding he keeps his distance to allow her to do whatever the hell she wants. Which is mostly cheating. The woman doesn’t love him, of that I’m sure.
I do. I love him and Devon, and the women standing before me are the biggest slaps in the face. Always a damn reminder of what I’m no longer allowed to have.
“Why’re you guys here?”