23 ♢ People Change

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Two Months Later

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Two Months Later

"Yeah. I understand... No, no, Dad honestly I understand. Stop apologising. It's okay. I'll see you later anyway..."

  Oliver's eyes focused on the row of elite black taxi cabs parked along the private airport's entrance. His father kept profusely apologising for not being there to collect him. Oliver didn't mind too much but his father was really upset he couldn't be there. After all, it was Oliver's big return home from rehab.

His big return back home had been anti-climactic so far. The weather was terrible with rain shooting down like bullets and lightning and thunder striking violently. The storm delayed his flight and by the time he arrived his father had to go back to work. He obviously didn't expect a cheering crowd to greet him after his return but good weather and his father would have been nice to have. Still, he wasn't going to dwell on the lacklustre response of the universe. He was just grateful to be back home.

  He had spent the previous two months at a rehab facility in the Hamptons. He had only intended on staying a week but once he got there he found himself enjoying the serenity of the resort. He was able to unwind and relax and finally be relieved of Manhattan's pressures.

  Obviously there were difficult days, especially in the first two weeks. The detox was particularly hard and he found himself becoming nauseous and crippled with headaches very often. However, as he got used to the place and its unlimited detox juices,  he adapted and recovery came in small increments.

  Perhaps the best part about wellness resort was how anonymous he was. Residents had probably heard of him from magazines or general gossip but no one actually knew him or came from his social circle. The consequent freedom allowed him to open up slowly but surely.

There was one-on-one therapy as well as group therapy (which he skipped). There were other programmes as well that were based on metaphors and symbols but that "holistic BS" (in his words) wasn't really Oliver's cup of tea

  The experience was also very bizarre at times. Every once in a while Oliver would dissociate and realise just how privileged he was. He didn't know why he hadn't seen it sooner. All of the residents were rich and they all somehow had similar reasons for their alcoholism, a lot of which stemmed from the extent of their wealth. And, the truth was none of them would probably have to face devastating, long-term effects from their drinking. Their jobs were waiting for them, their money was still stacked high in their bank accounts and their reputations were not irreverisibly disfigured. Oliver felt an odd certainty that everything was going to be okay and he wasn't sure if someone in his position from a lower social class would have been able to say the same thing.

  But still. He had changed and he was grateful. He felt clearer. Cleaner. Faster. He felt ready to continue with his life.

He hailed a cab to take him to his father's house to drop off his bags. His only request for his father before he left was to make sure his old apartment was put on the market. It was sold almost immediately but was yet to be inhabited and Oliver could technically still stay there as the seller's cool-off period was still under-way. But he couldn't bear stepping into it again. Too many bad memories. Whenever he thought back to his time with Nora in that apartment, his mind would become clouded with images of broken glass, tears and whiskey. He could never go back.

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