Silver Lining [Mick Schumacher]

Easier Said

"Healing and patience are lovers
Don't place the blame on your heart, just to make 'em stop
Just take your time to recover
'Cause it's easier said, it's easier said than done."
Easier Said; Alessia Cara

-

Hestia was standing in front of the door of Alistair's house, digging up some hidden pieces of courage. Initially, she didn't want to tell him about the relapse. Alistair believed she was on the right path to achieving lasting sobriety, he was happy with her progress. The people-pleaser in her wanted to keep him satisfied forever. It all worked like a perfect plan. She dreaded the possibility of him being disappointed with her, promising herself not to let it happen. Being eaten alive by guilt seemed less of a punishment than being honest and hurting someone close to her. But Mick made her realize that she wasn't acting right. His words kept spinning in her head like vinyl over and over again. It was him again who talked some senses into Hestia. As if he was some sort of street magician, he always had all the necessary tricks under his sleeve. He would be a great therapist if he wasn't a racing driver. People would tell that handsome, kind face even things they didn't know.

Hestia realized that she could upset Alistair by keeping secrets rather than confessing a minor slip-up that isn't rare among recovering addicts. Another sleepless night brought Hestia into the wondrous world of the Internet. This time, she drowned herself in the topic she didn't have the courage to discover before. Alcoholism. One wouldn't find it in Hestia's search history and not because she would delete it due to embarrassment. She had simply never searched it, afraid that what she would read there could be a trigger. Hestia found out that 40 - 60 % of recovering alcoholics relapse within a month, 85% within the first year. Not a small number indeed. After reading these statistics, Hestia felt a bit at ease. She wasn't the one of a kind, an ill soul undeserved of living. There were people just like her, also struggling to beat their demons. Sometimes they are winning and sometimes losing. And Hestia was no different. But in a world where every misstep could cost you a career, there was no room for imperfections.

For sure, they are people with addictions in the entertainment industry. Not everyone has a tough skin to deal with immense stress and unrealistic expectations. Numerous people use drugs of any kind as comfort escapism. Then there are two possible outcomes. Either they realize the reality or stay in the dark, unknowing of the destructiveness of their actions. But if they manage to see the situation in the daylight, two options open to them like magical portals. Either they figure out the strategy to win or let their demons have their checkmate. But this feeling of being understood gave Hestia the hope of a better destiny. It took a second until Alistair opened the door. It was Saturday, so Hestia had a certainty that she would catch him at home. Alistair looked her up and down, muscles on his face forming a frown upon seeing Hestia's pale face. One would even confuse her with a ghost if they ever saw one. He let Hestia in, sparing her any questions at first, deciding to let her speak when she was ready to.

"I lied to you," Hestia blurted out immediately after Alistair closed the door. They were standing beside each other, Hestia nervously rubbing her palms against each other, her eyes flickering all around. Alistair patiently waited for the next part of the story Hestia brought to him today, "about that night."

"When you were sick and Mick had to take you home?" Alistair crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Hestia seating herself on his sofa. Years of experience and his perfected art of deduction gave him a slight idea of what the plot twist was to be.

"Yes. I was sick indeed but for a different reason...I relapsed," Hestia decided not to sugarcoat things anymore, trying something she had always struggled with. Honesty. No white lies, theater masks, no cover-up stories. Nothing more than a pure, hundred percent true honesty, "I relapsed, I drank like four bottles of beer or whatever. I got pissed drunk, and called Mick for no reason. He got scared and-"