I Dont Do Too Well On My Own

The Twenty-first chapter

"Im sorry." Pete mumbles. "I forced myself over here to apologise, or maybe Patrick sent me, but thats not the point."

Pete takes a deep breath and looks at his hands on the table. They are tightly laced together.

"I was just super suspicious. You slept with Pat and then you are walking around with him and he talks about you. He talks about you. When you are over, I see no real reason that you should be too heavily spoken about. But then again I dont know you well enough."

He uses his hands like music to the lyrics of his apology.

"What does he say?" I ask with a sneaky smile.

"Surprisingly, its continuous praise about your humour and personality, and sometimes your looks. He keeps saying how he sees some of me in you, but I dont see it." Pete says.

Patrick talks about me to his friends. I try to suppress the blush rising.

"So, I want to apologise, the rest of the guys should get to know you better, that includes myself. But Im still curious, can you tell me what was on that letter?"

If I dont tell him, he could assume something worse than what is actually happening.

I look around the room. Its basically empty.

If I do tell him he may make fun of me.

"Dont talk about it to anyone but the guys. You started reading my report. Patrick has been taking me to therapy to deal with my drinking, slash, sex addiction. (You could say a-dick-tion)" I start.

Pete chuckles at my joke. His laugh is nervous, staccato. I continue.

"Im going to go through shock therapy to get me away from alcohol. But that sheet showed my rooted issue... Its... My root issue is... The problem that..."

I struggle to find the words.

"I... I..."

I put my head slowly onto the table and rest there. I can feel Petes eyes on me. I battle with myself. A sword fight where nobody wins.

"I have a problem with... When I was younger, I never got any physical attention. That includes hugs and kisses. Lots of things happened but it stayed with me until now. Nothing changes from when youre younger, you just gain more responsibility..." I take a deep breath. "I get drunk because Im bored, I have sex because when Im drunk, my barrier is down. When my barrier is down I do what I want. What I want is physical attention, love."

I sit up slowly to look at him. His eyes are trained on his coffee.

"Whilst having sex there is the meaningless belief that there is love there. Sex and making love are different things, I can assure you."

He seems a lot more sombre than earlier. Maybe he finally understands.

"Patrick, meanwhile, is stopping me from being drunk. He is giving me something to do instead of intoxicating myself. For that I am so thankful. Patrick is a wonderful person."

I can see Pete take a shaky sip from his coffee cup.

"There are some things about me you may never know. But the things you know now... That can help you guess the rest of the story. Maybe one day I can tell you all the rest of... Everything... But, not now."

I let the warmth of my coffee warm up my hands.

"Now... Is just a sorry explanation. Now is just to tide over the differences between us. Now is the bridge to later."

This reminds me of 4 years ago.

"You know... You sitting there reminds me of... Just over 4 years ago. Je- no... My mum and her frosted whip hair-do sitting where you are, clinging onto her tea like a life line. I told her about..."

Sydneys suicide.

"Something that I did, that was really bad. It was beyond bad. It brought hell to earth. And- and she just listened to my apology, as if she was the important one in this situation, and she said 'darling, suicide isnt starting again.'. She used 'darling' as if I was one of her rich friends, which I hated. The point of this being, even you just listening is a release, in some way. Also that everyone is selfish, including myself. Also, you cant run from your problems."

"So," Pete asks, his voice soft and crackly. "are you going to talk to your parents?"

I let out a single sharp laugh. "No! I dont know if Id be able to walk down the drive towards my parents, who would be crying just for the TV, and smile. What would I say? 'Oh, I forgot to tell you I left'? 'I was kidnapped'? I can only return when Im what they wanted. Only when Im perfect, rich, and married to a hot rich husband. We all know thats not going to happen. I need to get over my addiction first. Lets take this slowly... Please."

I run my finger over the top of the smooth cup.

"Oh, God Pete! I thought youd killed her!" Patrick bursts through the door, striding towards us.

He takes a seat at the head of the table. When Pete looks up at Patrick he looks fragile, almost as if he may shatter into thousands of pieces at any moment. He takes a shaky breath and runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

"I guess I understand a bit more now." He says, following with a sour laugh.

I can see his eyes get glossier. He puts a hand over mine and sends me a look that is much easier to deceiver.

Patricks eyebrows are furrowed as he watches us, as if he is trying to work out what we are thinking.

"Im going to get myself a coffee." Patrick smiles at us.

My coffee is now cold.