Stranger at Home

2005

Kelly received the treatment she desperately needed, and gradually, she started to eat well. It took a hell of a lot of counselling hours and group sessions, but she started to get there in the end. She was by no means perfect, but at least she was putting on weight and was out of the danger zone. There were no more fainting spells after that. She also seemed a lot happier in herself – maybe it was because she was given the chance to express her feelings, to talk about her problems. It's amazing, the difference talking to someone can make. It means you're not alone in this, not completely.

Things were going steady for a while after that. We were pleased with the way Kelly was recovering, and for a few months things were quiet. One day, though, I got a phone call, one I wished I would never receive in my life.

It was from Karl, who I had not spoken to in a while. We would always ring each other up every now and again, just to see how the other was doing. In recent years, Karl had been engaged, but they broke up the year before. I never asked why, and maybe I should have.

"Alright, mate", I said to Karl, not expecting anything other than one of our normal conversations.

"Jeremy, listen..." he said. Karl did not sound too good at all, and I was immediately worried. His voice was strained, as if he was in pain.

"What's the matter?" I asked him.

"I'm in the hospital", he told me. "I've fucked up, Jeremy. I really have. Last time we spoke I managed to cover it up..."

Then it dawned upon me what he was talking about, and my heart sunk as my stomach curdled. "You've fallen off the wagon, haven't you?"

"Almost a year ago today, aye", he replied. "Since Brenda left me".

"Jesus, Karl, you need to get yourself pulled together before it's too late!"

"That's what I'm ringing for, Jeremy. It is too late. They say my liver can't repair itself, not this time".

"I'll come and see you, right now", I told him. Karl needed a friend right now, and who better than someone he helped all those years ago?

He looked even worse than he sounded, but he seemed happy to see me. I tried to stop myself from crying there and then, because it crushed me to see his yellowed, drooping face. He must have lost six stone since the last time I saw him, and I also saw that he was wearing a colostomy bag. Karl was failing, and fast.

"I'm so glad you've come", Karl said, "even if it means you seeing me like this".

"Hey, I've been in these states myself, you know", I replied, sitting by his bedside. There were tubes attached to him, some coming from his stomach, some aiding his breathing. I was depressed, guilty because of the trouble I had caused David and Kelly, and the darkest side of me was even thinking about drinking again. Not now, though. Those thoughts of self-destruction were gone when I saw the reality, the consequences of drinking to excess.

"What have they told you?"

"I'm on my deathbed, basically", he said. "I've got liver failure, end-stage".

I put my head in my hands. "Christ...Karl. How much have you been drinking?"

"A lot. Believe me", he said. He shoved an oxygen mask into his mouth. It appeared his lungs were also shutting down.

"I can very well believe it with the state you're in!" I cried.

"I'm not making any excuses. I'm past that. I've done wrong, Jeremy, I wholly admit it, but I'll tell you something now. I'm not scared of dying. I feel like I'm ready for it. I was ready a year ago, and that was why I started binging almost every night. Enough is enough".