Page 58 of Common People

‘But while you’re away, the temptation will be there. Have you thought about what you might do if you’re tempted? What if you’re having a bad day, for example?’

‘I need to remember what alcohol has taken from me. It stole so much of my life after the accident, it destroyed my relationship with my ex-girlfriend, Emma, and now my friendship with Bethan. I just can’t do it. I have to stay sober. It’s the one non-negotiable for my recovery.’

‘That’s good, Max, and I’m here to support that. Now, let’s go back, shall we? Let’s talk about what happened right after the accident. How did you deal with losing your parents like that? What were you like before that day, and then after?’

Going back in time to right after the accident, Max could still feel the emotion of that time, running through him like he had turned a tap on. It was like it was somehow hard-wired into his brain, and just talking about it again, he felt the tears coming. He had cried a lot then. He would be fine, and then he would break down into floods of tears at the drop of a hat. The emotion seemed always to be just below the surface waiting for its moment to explode out of him. It had gradually gone away, sunk deeper inside of him, but it was still there. He wanted to explore that with Grace, to see if there was a way he could finally get rid of it forever. He wanted, if possible, to be at peace with his parents' deaths.

‘How long will it take?’ he asked.

‘It will take however long it takes, Max. We are all different, and we all process grief in different ways. I think without even realising it, you have come such a long way. From what you said, it wasn’t that long ago that your life was chaotic, you were out of control, and now you’re here, talking about going travelling, finding solutions to your pain, and that’s all positive. You also have to remember, it’s OK to feel pain. It’s OK to feel sad, to understand that you went through something profoundly life-changing, and it has changed you. To feel is to be alive, and you want to feel alive. The thing we have to learn is how to control what we do with that pain. Before you drank, you were self-destructive, and that isn’t healthy. If you had continued on that road, you would have found yourself in a very dark place. So, don’t think about the grief, the pain, as something you have to get rid of completely because you won’t, but what we can control is your reaction to it. If you’re having a bad day, you go for a run,meditate, spend time with friends, or go for a walk. It’s OK not to be OK. Does that make sense?’

‘Yeah, it does.’

‘Being at peace with your parents’ death, Max, means being at peace with yourself.’

Max had never felt ready to speak with a therapist about his parents, but now that he finally had, it felt good. Grace understood exactly what he was going through, and she understood how to deal with it. A year or six months ago, if he had gone to Grace, he wouldn’t have been ready to hear it, but he finally was. They spoke for the whole hour, and he really opened up about what he was feeling. It felt good, but it wasn’t just that. People spoke about therapy as “putting in the work”, and Max hadn’t really understood what that meant. What was “the work” they spoke about? But as he talked with Grace he began to understand. The work was what he had to do by himself once he left. Sitting in that room with Grace, hearing her words, telling her what had happened was one thing, but once he left and was out in the world by himself, it was then he had to take everything they had spoken about and put it into action. That was the work he needed to start right away.

Later that day, Max was at the flat, drinking tea on the sofa and waiting for Robbie to get home. The shop closed at three o’clock, but it was just after five when Robbie finally walked in the door.

‘How was the shop today?’ asked Max.

‘Good, yeah, pal. Busy.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Aye, but it’s so tiring. I really will have to hire someone soon.’

‘OK, we can talk about that in a minute, but I have something I want to tell you first,’ said Max, and Robbie walked across and sat on the sofa next to him.

‘All right, pal. What’s the scoop?’

‘I just booked a flight to Thailand. I’m going for a month.’

‘Oh, right, cool. That’s good.’

‘Yeah, I’m excited about it. After talking it through with my therapist, I really think I need a break from London. I think it will do me the world of good.’

‘I think so too. The only thing is, I’ll miss youse.’

‘You’ll be fine. Eve practically lives here now anyway.’

‘Aye, but it will no be the same without youse, pal.’

‘Thanks, mate, and talking about me leaving, and the shop, I had an idea about hiring someone.’

‘Oh yeah?’ asked a curious Robbie.

‘I need to run it by them first, see if they’re even interested, but if they are, I think it could be a match made in heaven!’ said Max with a smile.

The idea had come to him earlier, but he wasn’t sure after everything that had happened, if they would still be interested. He really hoped they would because it would kill two birds with one stone. Max told Robbie he would speak to them first, and if they were interested, he would bring them by the shop before he left for Thailand. Robbie begged to know who, but Max said he didn’t want to get his hopes up, if the person he had in mind wasn’t interested.

With his first therapy session under his belt, a flight to Bangkok booked, and now with the idea of hiring someone for the sandwich shop, it had felt like a productive day. The thing was, at the end of the day, the thing he still thought about and craved was a beer. He knew it was going to be the hardest part of travelling. Temptation would be around every corner, but he couldn’t give in to it. He had to remain sober because it was that small piece of the jigsaw puzzle which was the key to finishing it. Being sober, saying no to alcohol, despite whatever pain he was feeling, was the only way forward. It was OK not to be OK.

So, instead Max put the kettle on for a cup of tea, and then he would make himself and Robbie something to eat. He still hadn’t heard from Bethan, and the Clapham Half was in just over a week. Max hadn’t decided if he was going to run it or not. He didn’t want to see Bethan and ruin her day, and so if he didn’t hear from her, he probably wasn’t going to attend. It was the sacrifice he was prepared to make, to make sure that she was OK. In the meantime, he had a phone call to make, to offer someone a job.

Home

Tanya had arranged for a company to come to the house and take everything away. Max had debated whether he should go through it, and pick out some things that meant something to him, but in the end, he had decided to just keep the photo albums. There were twenty-four in total, ranging from Max as a baby, all the way up until he was eighteen. There were numerous family holidays from road trips around Cornwall, camping in Wales, to holidays abroad to Spain, France and Italy. The photo albums were like a magical trip back in time through his life growing up, and they meant so much to him. He remembered watching his mum painstakingly picking out the best photos – often from a fairly poor bunch – and then sticking them into the album, and writing the captions below in her neat handwriting. Nowadays we had Instagram to show off our best-of family photos, but his mum loved a proper photo album. Having something solid to sit down and look through, knowing his mum’s hands were all over it, made all the difference in the world.