Page 40 of In Every Lifetime
I hadn’t realized she had a drinking problem. Not yet. I assumed it was a night out gone wrong and knew it wasn’t safe for her alone on the streets. Hell, I had practically kidnapped her. But I couldn’t leave her in the rain alone.
I assumed she would sober up and leave the next day. Instead, I found her rifling through the kitchen cabinets looking for a drink. That’s when she learned, and was very unhappy about, our alcohol-free house.
It took a long two days to talk her into trying to get sober. Once we had convinced her, she saw it more as a challenge than anything else. Nothing was going to stop her from getting sober, especially when I was skeptical. It wasn’t until she threw up blood and her heart was racing that I realized how bad of a situation we were in. Sarah and I had rushed her to the hospital where she was admitted.
I had lied, telling them I was her father so I could stay with her. Visiting hours were over, and any non-family members were forced to leave. I was only seven years older than her, but the kind nurse with an empathetic smile didn’t question me, just showed me to her room and told me to take care of her.
“Jackie,” I whispered. She was laying in the hospital bed, a heart rate monitor beeping in the background. It was still too fast, but not as bad as it had been. She had an IV pumping her full of fluids and anti-nausea medication.
I didn’t know the girl well. All I knew of her was her name.
Ophelia Jaqueline James.
Jackie.
She opened her eyes slowly, turning her head to look at me with a glare. “You again.”
I rolled my eyes but laughed. “Me again. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
She smiled weakly. “This whole sober thing sucks.”
“Giving up already?” I challenged.
She glared again but shook her head. “Never.”
“That’s what I thought,” I mused and leaned forward, taking her clammy hand in my own. “Is there someone I can call for you? A friend? Sibling? Parent?”
She shook her head with as much effort as she could muster. “No, there’s no one.” She swallowed. “It’s just me.”
Her words hit me like a stab in the heart. “Not anymore, Jackie. I’m here.”
She looked at me, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “Promise not to leave? I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“I promise.”
Now
“Please don’t remind me of that,” I groaned. "That was one of the worst days of my life. I genuinely thought you were going to die."
Jackie had the audacity to laugh. “Oh, come on. I must have caused worse days since then. That can’t be theabsoluteworst.”
“I said one of the worst,” I argued. “Why did you bring it up anyway? How much of that day do you remember?”
“I think most of it, but I can’t be sure,” she mumbled. “I brought it up because you were there. You helped me get sober. Don’t count yourself out, Fai. Give yourself the credit you deserve.”
“I’m sorry, Jackie.” The words practically fell out of me.
She was taken aback. “Why?”
I barked a laugh. “Umm… for the past five years of my stupidity? For being a crappy friend? For relapsing and then lying to you about it?”
“What about when you fired me because you were scared I was going to find out about said relapse?” Jackie interjected. “Oh, and you lied and said it was because I was dating Will, because, once again, you didn’t want me to find out about your drinking? Or is it for abandoning me as my sponsor? Dipping out on our AA meetings, which I now run, because you vanished?”
“Yes, add it all to the list of sins I need to atone for. Or book at this point,” I mumbled.
"We could call it 'Fai's Descent Into Stupidity,'" she said. "Catchy."
“I think Sarah already started that book. You’ll have to check with her on the title,” I muttered. “I really am sorry for all of it. I know I’ve said it before, but I just want you to know I hate that I ever hurt you.”
