Beautiful Boy

regret

amara haven

Nic called me.

He called me.

He sounded heartbroken. He was sobbing. David had told him that they couldn't help him, he could only offer what they've already offered.

I wanted to help him. But I couldn't.

I couldn't get the words out. I couldn't make myself say it.

"You know I'm here to talk, and I want the best for you, I do, Nic, but I'm not always going to drop to my knees for you."

That's what I said.

Regret is painful.

Misery loves company.

I felt terrible. I'd tried to call him after that, I'd tried to take it back.

He didn't answer.

That was a week ago.

I felt ill over it.

I'd called in sick every day and my boss was getting on my ass about it.

I'd never felt that bad about something. Ever.

I wanted to drink. To numb this all-consuming intense feeling of regret.

I was sitting at the counter with a glass of water and my laptop, supposed to be working on something for University.

Instead, I was racking my brain for an idea of where to find alcohol.

I didn't want the thoughts, but they had me in a chokehold; a black hole. I couldn't escape them.

Part of me said that I should call Axel.

The other part... wanted me to drink.

So desperately wanted alcohol it was hard to say no.

I sighed and grabbed my phone out.

Weird coincidence that as I went to call Axel, a call came in from David.

Fate, maybe?

I clicked accept.

"Hey, David, what's up?" I asked.

"Hey, Am, not much. You?" He replied.

I debated telling the truth.

I'd come to a conclusion that honesty was, in reality, the best policy.

"Trying not to drink," I sighed.

"Still upset about what happened?"

"I feel terrible, David, I haven't been able to eat properly, or sleep properly... I can't work, I have a paper for Uni due tomorrow and it's not even half-done... I-"

"I understand," he said. "I do. I'm still trying to remind myself that I did the right thing. Amara, his sobriety is not your responsibility. He... what he chooses to do is completely up to him, we can't control it."

"But we should help him, shouldn't we? We should try... I'm scared he's going to die, David," I admitted.

It was like sweet relief in its weakest form.

Saying it out loud. I was scared that he would die.

"I talked about this with Karen yesterday. We can only offer him what we've already tried," he sighed, I could almost hear the shrug as he spoke.

"What if he's not lying though? What if he really does just need us?" I questioned, "I didn't need rehab and AA to get sober."

"You're different, Amara," he responded, "Alcohol abuse is different to drug addiction and you... you're stronger than he is. Mentally."

"I guess you're right," I agreed.

He was right. I was more mature. More responsible.

I may have not known it consciously, but it was in the back of my mind.

"So, um... tonight there's an Al-Anon meeting that Karen and I are going to go to and I was wondering if you'd want to come with us?" He offered.

"Oh... I work tonight from four till close at ten," I replied.

"That's okay," he muttered, "I just wanted to offer."

"Yeah, uhm- yeah, thanks," I said, "I'd like to come but my boss is pissed about me missing work this week."

"Yeah, that's okay, I understand. Take care of yourself, okay?" He spoke.

I felt a wave of sadness wash over me...

I dragged a little stool next to the bed to sit on.
His eyes were the slightest bit open and his breathing was weak.
No no no no no no.
"Kitten," he croaked weakly, taking my hand in his, "Take care of yourself, okay? I love you."
I couldn't hold my tears anymore.
"Dad, please, no," I cried, "Please. I love you, I'm sorry."
I felt my hand lose his grip ever so slowly.
No. No. No.
"Dad, please," I blurted, "Please no."
It was as if my pleas could do nothing.
The words would float into the air like bubbles, then be popped by the reality of the world.
"Dad-"
I was stunned to silence by a long, loud beep on one of the machines.
I looked to see the machine monitoring his breathing flatlining.
In a matter of seconds, I was ushered to the back of the room, nurses and doctors rushing in to do CPR.

"I will. Thanks," I spoke suddenly, a bit sharper than I intended.

"Talk soon," David said, followed by a little beep.

My heart began to pick up in speed.

Banging on the door of my chest, begging to be let free, to be rid of all these harsh feelings.

I felt a lump travel up my throat and a slight sting hit my nose.

I tilted my head back and pinched my nose bridge, composing myself.

I checked the time and decided I should get ready for work.

~

After my shift, I was exhausted.

Entirely, completely exhausted.

I wanted to shower, eat and sleep.

Per routine.

When I arrived home, I was surprised to find Axel watching a movie with Kinsley and Valeria.

Noah was over as well. Kinsley was tucked under his arm and Valeria was laying on Axel's lap.

I loved how quickly my sisters had become accustomed to his presence

Axel turned when he heard the door, "Oh, hey. How was work?" He asked.

"Just another shift," I replied with a sigh, getting a glass from one of the cupboards.

I opened the fridge and stared at the contents for a moment for no particular reason.

I grabbed the Brita and filled the glass with water.

I didn't feel like cooking anything, so I heated up leftovers in the microwave.

After eating, I had another glass of water and turned on the shower, letting it warm up while I grabbed clothes to sleep in.

I left my phone on the counter with my towel and clothes, and got into the hot shower.

My muscles relaxed instantly.

When I got out, I felt significantly better, but tired.

I dried off and slipped into the clothes.

I hadn't realised that I'd grabbed one of Nic's shirts. It reminded me of what I'd done.

My head slowly began to pound and I rubbed my temples.

I brushed out my hair, scrunched it a bit and tied a ponytail.

I walked out into my bedroom, flicking the light off and closing the door.

I went to put my phone on charge when I noticed a notification.

Missed call from Saint Francis Memorial Hospital, SF

My heart dropped.