Be Good A New Adult Romance (RE12)(19)

The remark probably would have hurt a lot less if it wasn’t half true. A small part of me had wanted Joey. Granted, it was a small part, and getting even smaller the more I got to know Brett, but it was still there.

“Don’t you trust me?” My voice shaking.

Brett didn’t answer right away and he looked uncomfortable. “I trust you when you’re sober. But I don’t trust you when you’ve been drinking.”

Another slap and another truth about me now out in the open. I wondered why Brett wanted to be with me.

“You could stop,” he said quietly.

“Stop what,” I said even though I knew what he meant. I wanted to hear him say it.

Brett looked at me with so much compassion in his eyes, my heart skipped a few beats. “You could stop drinking.”

I didn’t know if I was ready. I didn’t know if I wanted to stop. I liked alcohol and I liked how I felt when I was drinking. Well, most of the time. I didn’t like it when I drank too much and I certainly didn’t like being hung over.

“I’ll think about it.” I turned away from him and crawled into bed.

“Okay,” he said but it didn’t sound like he believed me.

I didn’t think about it anymore. At that moment, all I wanted to do was go to sleep.





Seven


A kiss on my cheek woke me up. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Brett whispered.

When I opened my eyes, I saw he was crouched down on the floor next to me. “Hey,” I said sleepily.

“The wedding is not until later this afternoon, so if you don’t have any big plans, there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

“Does it involve a garden?”

Brett smiled. “What would make you say that?”

“Just call it a hunch.”



***



A short time later, we found ourselves standing in front of the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.

“Have you been here before?” I asked as Brett paid our admission fees.

“Once, when I was a kid. My parents took me here. I still remember seeing a javelina. It was my first and only time.”

“I was not so fortunate. Being nearly a decade younger than my two siblings, by the time I appeared on the scene, my parents were fairly apathetic towards child rearing. It was a been-there-done-that parenting style. So, my parents didn’t take me here when I was a kid. They really didn’t take me anywhere because by the time I came along, they had already seen practically ever tourist attraction in Arizona and apparently had no desire for an encore performance with me.”

Brett leaned over and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Well, I am far from apathetic when it comes to showing you new gardens, although this is more of a nature preserve with both plants and animals. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

The first thing Brett dragged me to see was the sea otters in the Riparian Corridor. He was like an excited boy on a school trip and I have to admit, his enthusiasm was contagious.

“And this is the Cat Canyon,” Brett said as he showed me the bobcats.

“If I ever move back to Arizona, I’m definitely planting some of these in the backyard,” Brett said as we looked at the prickly pears in the Cactus Garden.

“Are you considering moving back? What about your job? And your townhouse?”

“I love Palo Alto and I don’t want to move back but my dad’s getting older and he’s by himself, so that does concern me. I’ve been trying to get him to retire out to California but he says it’s too expensive and he can’t afford it.”

I had never given a second thought to what would happen to my parents when they retired. I guess having two older siblings made me feel like I had less responsibility for them. Not that they would ever ask for me to take care of them. I think they’d rather rot away in a nursing home than do that.

“How come your dad never remarried?” I hoped the question didn’t sound too forward but I was curious. From what Brett said, his mother had been gone quite a while.

“I don’t think he’s ever really gotten over her death. They were high school sweethearts and from the stories I heard, neither one of them dated very much before they started dating each other. I don’t think my dad had much experience with other women.”

Like father, like son, I thought but I kept the comment to myself. It made me wonder in what other ways Brett was like his father. When I glanced at Brett, he looked deep in thought.

“Want to take a little break and sit by the prairie dogs.”

I nodded. The prairie dogs were adorable and I probably could have watched them playing for a while but I sensed Brett had more to say to me.

Brett and I took a bench not very far from the prairie dogs habitat but far enough away that we had some privacy from other sightseers.

Brett could talk for days about nearly any topic but now he was being unusually quiet.

“What’s going on?” I playfully knocked into his shoulder with mine. “Come on, spill. What did I do to piss you off this time?”

Brett looked at me with a serious expression. “Why do you put yourself down so much?”

“Self-deprecation happens to be flaw number one hundred and eleven.”

“Please stop. There’s nothing wrong with you. I don’t always agree with the choices you make but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Tell that to my parents,” I shot back a little too forcefully.

“I don’t know your parents; but from what you’ve told me about them, it sounds like your life growing up was less than idyllic. I get it. Mine wasn’t always a rose garden either.”

That surprised me. Brett was so perfect, I just assumed he grew up in some kind of ideal Brady Bunch clone of a household.

Brett took in a deep breath and then said, “Not many people know this because my dad did everything in his power to hide it but my mom was an alcoholic.”

That hit me like cold water splashed in the face. As surprised as I was by the admission it now made sense why he was so adamant about not drinking.

He continued, “Remember when I told you my mom died in a car accident? She had been drinking the night she died. She drank a lot. She always did for as long as I can remember. My dad later told me there was a name for what she was. He called it a functional alcoholic. Most people couldn’t see how sick she was. She still took care of me, the household, and my father. But she always did it with a drink in her hand. And on the weekends, it was more than a few. The only time she didn’t drink is when she was in her garden. It was like her refuge. That may be the reason I liked to go out there with her so much and spend time with her there. Those times in her garden, I felt like I had 100 percent of my mother. When she was drinking, she was maybe 60 percent there. The other 40 percent of my mother disappeared in the bottom of a wine glass.”

I could feel myself shrinking and it was becoming difficult to breath. I thought about all the major mistakes I had made with Brett and they seemed to involve me being drunk. I felt like a complete *.

It was much clearer now why he had asked me to stop drinking. He saw what it had done to his mom. Was he trying to save me because he couldn’t save her?

For the first time in my life, I actually thought about what my life would be like if I stopped drinking. So much of my life had revolved around drinking and for so long, it almost seemed like second nature. Just like I wouldn’t consider going outside without shoes on, I wouldn’t consider going out without drinking.

Of course, Brett didn’t drink and he was becoming a large part of my life. We didn’t drink at all the entire weekend I spent with him and I didn’t miss it.

“I think I want to try to stop drinking.” Even though I said the words I could feel the hesitation in my voice.

Brett grabbed my hand in his and looked at me. “I don’t want you to stop because of what I said about my mom. And I don’t want you to stop for me. The only reason you should stop is because you want to stop.”

I considered what Brett said. What if there were a number of reasons to stop? How could I separate them? Maybe I wanted to stop because Brett wanted me to. It was rattling my brain.

“I want to try. I’m telling you upfront, I don’t think it will be easy. I’ve been drinking since I was twelve and most of the time, I like the way it makes me feel.”

“What about after we slept together and you didn’t remember it? How did that make you feel?”

That was harsh but the truth often was.

“Not very good,” I admitted. “No, that’s not true. I felt like complete and total dog shit.”

Brett nodded. “Was that the first time something like that happened?”

“Something like what?” I countered. I knew damn well what he meant but I wanted to make him spell it out for me. He would have to say it if he wanted me to give him an answer.