Beautiful Boy

20 days

amara haven

I hadn't been sober in 15 days.

Was there a badge for that?

Valeria hadn't left her room in 10 days, Mum hadn't spoken a word to anyone in 17 days.

Dad passed away 20 days ago.

Kinsley was the only one holding up, and I had no clue how she managed to keep energy in her body and a smile on her face.

She was cleaning and cooking for us, taking care of everyone.

She was even bringing me cold glasses of water, aspirin, coffee, and little snacks.

"So, we should plan a funeral," she said as she placed a glass of water, a mug of coffee and aspirin on my bedside table, sitting at the end of the bed.

I turned to look at her through hooded eyes.

I sat up to drink the water, taking the aspirin, "Thank you."

"Amara," she sighed.

"Hm?" I asked, moving to drink the coffee, savouring the warmth.

"We should have a funeral, with close family and no one else, and we should invite the Sheff's," she insisted.

I ignored her, looking around my room.

"This is ridiculous! You can't spend every day getting drunk and sleeping. You need to man up and get your shit together," she snapped.

I was taken aback, which must've shown on my face since she suddenly put her head in her hands.

"I'm sorry," she faltered, "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"Kins," I assured, putting the coffee down and opening my arms.

She shuffled up to my side and dropped her head on my shoulder.

I leaned my head on hers and rubbed her arm, "We can plan a funeral."

She nodded, and I felt her softly cry against my shoulder.

"We'll be okay, Kins, I promise. And I'm sorry that I haven't been sober," I kissed her head.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know you can't really control it," she brought her head up to look at me properly, her tear-stained cheeks were a rosy pink.

I looked into her light brown eyes and saw so much pain and worry.

"I'm just scared that I'm going to lose you too," she murmured, "Stupid, I know. But he died of an overdose and what if you drink too much at a time?"

My heart wrenched.

I was so caught in my addiction that I didn't think of the ways it was affecting my family.

"I know, Kinsley," I kissed her temple, "I'm scared of that too, sometimes."

"So the funeral," she wiped her nose on her sleeve, "I was thinking we should invite our grandparents, aunts, uncles and the Sheff's, and we should have it at that one funeral home he was always joking about."

I nodded, "I like that."

"And, we should steal some of his ashes to-"

"I'm going to stop you there, my love," I giggled, "It's illegal to spread ashes."

She laughed, "That's true."

"Why do you want to invite the Sheff's?" I asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "They just feel like family. Dad and David were so close. And you and Nic-"

"I don't want to see him," I blurted.

"He's not here," she said reassuringly.

"What?" I asked, "Where is he?"

"Not sure," she replied, "Did I not tell you? I thought I did."

"What do you mean you're not sure?" I probed.

"David just said he'd left and wasn't sure where in San Fran he's living," she said, taking my hand, "Sorry."

"It's okay," I assured, "Anyways, would you like to talk about it tonight? We could order in take-out and get everyone on board. I think it's a lovely idea to have a funeral for him."

She nodded, "Yeah, I like that idea."

I smiled and kissed her temple and she stood up, closing my door behind her.

I tilted my head back and pinched my nose bridge, not wanting to cry.

~

"So, should we call people or send out invites?" Kinsley asked as we all took our seats at the table, "It's insensitive to send out invites, isn't it?"

Mum almost laughed, "No, sweetheart. We'll send invites in the post, but we need to talk to the funeral home first."

Kinsley nodded, "Right, okay. We'll call them after dinner, and then, Amara, Val, would you two do the invites?"

I nodded and Valeria didn't show any reaction, so I spoke, "We'll handle it."

"And Mum, you're sure you're okay with this? And with inviting David and Karen?" Kinsley asked.

Mum nodded, "It's what James would've wanted."

We all dug into our meals, having a real conversation for the first time in weeks.

It was nice.

But I had thoughts nagging at me in the back of my head, taunting me.

When we all finished eating, I helped Kinsley with the dishes and headed back into my room.

I sat down with my sketchbook to draw something, but I felt myself become enveloped in these cruel thoughts.

Join him.
Why aren't you with him?
It's alcohol, it won't hurt.
Drink it. Drink too much of it.

I tried my best to shake the thoughts.

I couldn't and I wouldn't.

But I could.

And before I could knock some sense into myself, I would.

I found my legs carrying me to the drawer where I kept alcohol.

I popped the lid and drank the contents.

God, it felt good to drink.

Really good.

I felt myself craving another bottle.

One more couldn't hurt, right?

~

Wrong.

Very wrong.

I sat against my shower, my hands over my stomach and my head pounding sharply.

It had to be close to 2 AM.

I really, really shouldn't have done that.

But I suppose I had to learn somehow.

I made a vow to myself.

Or rather to Dad.

He told me to take care of myself.

And I needed to do that.

Though, I refused to go to rehab.

And I refused to attend AA meetings.

Maybe I could find a sponsor in another way.

I thought I would look in the morning, and talk to Mum about it.

But first, I needed to find my will to live, and after these 20 days, I knew it would be difficult.