Sin-bin

Chapter 15 - Marical

"Hello?" It's quiet as if he's in the bedroom and doesn't want to wake Danica. 

"Toi," My voice is suddenly breathless as I grip the phone in sweaty hands. My body hurts like it did when I was first detoxing. Begging and banging to get something.

There were rustles and movement until I could hear a door shut. "Marcial? What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I want to so bad, Toi, like my body hurts. Why do I have to be like this, Toi? Why can't I be normal?"

Toi doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve an alcoholic best friend who can't handle his own emotions. Doesn't deserve to deal with a shitty hockey player who's no longer even under his leadership. He should be sleeping, and I could be at a bar that smells like weed and—

"Take some deep breaths, Marcial, count to five in," I follow his counting, sucking in as much as my lungs possibly can. I follow his count out, too, exhaling everything in me. We do that four more times before he breaks from the cycle, and my head is lightheaded for a different reason, "Now tell me what's going on."

But I don't know how to. I don't know how to express my shitty body and my shitty feelings and the way Dallas laughs and how I can taste brandy on my tongue, and how everything is fucking shit. I don't know how. I don't even know how to explain why tears are burning in my eyes, and I'm choking on my own breath. 

"I want to drink," I settle with, saying, "So bad, Toi. It's all I can think about. It's all I can feel."

Toi sucks in a deep breath, too, "Yeah, I know, buddy."

Despite being my best friend and the closest I've ever had in my entire life, Toi also plays the father figure role for me. He's nearly a decade older, has two kids, and has a whole lot of leadership experience behind him. He's kind and caring and never lies to anyone. He's the kind of man I wish I was raised by. The kind of man I can respect and admire to be. 

"Are you alone? Are you at home?"

I look around the fucking bare apartment. The only signs of life are the TV still on, my painting corner, and the lights on in the hallway. The walls are too white, and I can see the city behind my curtains. It's not a home. I don't feel at home.

"Y-yeah."

"Alright, do you have any alcohol with you?"

"No."

"Good, good. The first step is to calm down. You can't think clearly or do anything to help yourself until you're calmer. Do you want to talk about something? To calm down? Or do you want me to tell you something?"

"You talk."

So Toi tells me a story about what his daughter's teacher said she did during parent-teacher meetings. It's not boring or exciting, but I can hear the fondness in his voice as he talks about his family. Toi is a family man through and through, and I envy him for it.

"Are you calmer?"

My heart isn't racing out of my chest, my head hurts, and I can only feel a little bit of cramping in my stomach, but at least I can breathe, "Yeah."

"Okay. Now, I'm no expert on how to deal with this, but maybe you shouldn't be alone. Don't you have a sponsor or someone you could call that you could be with? You probably shouldn't be alone."

But, like Toi, David's a family man. He's probably kissing his kids goodnight and settling into bed with his wife. He needs a good night's sleep so he can go to the office in the morning. And how would I explain to him that I want to drink because I like a guy? I don't even know if he's okay with that kind of shit. And Shelia's pregnant and needs rest; it is utterly out of the question. Robbie is shit at comforting someone, so I think he would make it worse.