Beautiful Failure (22 page)

“I’ll remember to record it the next time I come get you for work.” He tilts my chin up with his fingertips. “You even smile about AA meetings lately. You’re definitely happier.”

“Don’t credit my happiness to those dumb ass meetings.” I wrap my arms around his neck as another wave crashes by. “The only good thing about AA is
leaving
. That’s why I smile about it. Not being in there is the best feeling in the world.”

“I think deep down you like it.” He gently squeezes my ass. “You hate being
forced
to be there, but you don’t actually hate being there.”

“Are you a career psychic now? Is that what you do all day? Sit up and philosophize about shit?”

He shuts me up with a kiss. “You complain about everyone telling their stories and crying, but you can relate. You just don’t want to admit it because you think it’ll make you look weak.”

It will...
“That’s not true.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks into my eyes, silently telling me that it’s okay to be honest with him.

“I’m still not going to share my past with them. I made it this far without doing it so...”

“
So
?”

“So, I have double AA meetings coming up all week and I probably can’t spend the night with you until next Sunday.”

“Emerald...”

“I have to be there at six in the morning every day. Can you believe that? That means I’ll only get five hours of sleep after work and I—”

“Emerald,” he whispers, “I’m not judging you.”

“Then why does it feel like you are?”

“It shouldn’t.” He grips me hard as a stronger wave pushes past us. “I want what’s best for you.”

“Does that mean I can spend the night with you next Sunday when I get off?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He secures his arms around my back and carries me back to the shoreline. “Your friends are doing something special for you after you get off that day.”

“
What
? Please tell me you’re joking.” I’ve always hated surprises. “You have to tell me whatever it is. I’m not good when it comes to things like that.”

“You really want me to tell you?”

“
Please
.”

He sighs. “It’s just cupcakes and beer—well,
root beer
to start your rehab countdown. Twenty one days left.”

“Who planned that?”

“
Sparkle
and
Robyn
.”

“When did they tell you about it?”

“Earlier this week.” He sets me down on the sand. “Why are you looking so sad?”

“No reason. I just...” I feel my heart swelling and want to change the subject, but I don’t. “You have no idea how lonely my life was before this summer. I had two numbers in my phone—Virginia and Henry, and the only people I talked to were the fictional characters in my head. But now, people actually want to hang out with me—like, they invite themselves over and are fine just talking to me. I know this seems so simple but it’s really fucking overwhelming because I’ve never had it before.”

I sigh. “At the same time, I don’t know if I can hold onto it. I’m going to find a way to fuck everything up. I can feel it.”

“I won’t let you.” He grabs my hand and leads me down the shoreline again.

I force a smile because even though I’m on cloud nine right now, I know my fuck up is inevitable. Nothing good in my life ever lasts for long and since I haven’t failed at anything in a while, something is bound to give.

As we approach the pier, I bend down to pick up my shoes, but he grabs me by my waist and pushes me against a flickering lamppost.

“You
hate
fucking me?”

“What?”

“We have ‘very
very
bad sex’ with dry kisses?” He slips a hand underneath my dress. “Kisses that do nothing for you?”

“I never said that.”

“You did.” He unbuckles his jeans. “And it hurt my
feelings
.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Of course not.” He pushes my panties to the side and wedges his knee between my legs—spreading my legs a little wider.

“Here? Now?” I whisper, looking around us—noticing how most of the beach’s visitors are long gone.

“
Yes
.” He slides into me and smirks. “And I’m not going to be
gentle
.”

C
arter forgot to mention the part about my “rehab countdown party” being held at the county fair. He actually forgot to tell me about a lot of things...

Before he picked me up tonight and drove me here—to Blythe’s number one summer attraction, he took me to a spa in the adjacent county for an hour long massage. For no reason at all.

He’s been doing a lot of things for no reason at all lately: Having signed copies of my favorite books shipped to my house, gifting me paintbrushes with “Try, try again” notes, and taking me out to dinner every chance he gets.

No longer does he take me to the diner if I’m hungry after work. He’ll bring me a snack to have while he drives me somewhere nice, and he always holds me by his side when we walk in, and he always pays.

I keep waiting for him to call and break things off, for him to say that what we have isn’t what he wants anymore, but the days continue to pass and his affection only seems to grow stronger and stronger.

“Twenty one days left!” My friends cheer, breaking me out of my daydream.

Robyn, Sarah, a few girls from the club and Carter are here, holding sparklers in the dark parking lot, waiting for me to blow out the candles on my cake.

I can’t help but laugh at the design of it.

It’s a bottle of water with a green label that reads, “21 Days? Nothing Our Queen Bitch Can’t Handle!”

I blow out all twenty one candles to a loud applause and feel myself being pulled against Carter’s chest.

“Does anybody want cake now?” Sarah asks, waving a plastic knife around. “Or do we want to eat it after?”

“
After
,” everyone says unanimously.

She shrugs and closes the cake box, placing it onto the front seat of her car. “Fair time now? Emerald, you
have
to ride the Ferris wheel with me. If your boyfriend doesn’t mind that is.” She rolls her eyes at Carter, laughing.

As she and Robyn lead the way to the fair’s entrance gate, I look up at Carter. “I don’t want to go the fair. I want to have sex.”

“
What
?”

“You heard me.”

“You think we’re supposed to have sex
every time
we see each other?”

“
Yes
.” We haven’t missed a day since we first started and I will take him down in front of everyone if he even tries to deny me tonight.

“You can’t wait until after we ride a few rides?”

“No. I thought this celebration was going to be at your apartment.”

“And if it would’ve been?”

“I would’ve told them to leave after we cut the cake.”

“You would’ve put people out of
my
apartment?

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” I try not to sound needy, but I can’t help it. I’m damn near addicted to having sex with him. “I’ve never craved sex—like ever, but with you it’s all I think about lately...It feels like more than sex, you know?”

Shit...

He smiles, but he doesn’t respond to my rant.

“I’m not going to
beg
you, Carter.” At least I don’t think I will. “Can we go to your car for twenty minutes?

“
Twenty minutes
?”

“Ten?”

“It’ll be a lot longer than that.”

“That means yes?”

He laughs and grabs my hand, leading me away from the line. “We probably won’t be coming back...”

T
oday is my final day of rehab and I can’t wait for this shit to be over. I’m so happy that I don’t even care that my probation officer cornered me as soon as I walked into the building, or that he forced an empty urine cup into my hand and demanded that I put it to use minutes before the meeting started.

Since it’s the “final showdown” he said he wanted to make his last appearance “Epic.” 

“Well, well, well,” he says as I step out of the restroom, “Future Convict is clean again.”

“Sorry you don’t get to haul me off in chains like you’ve been dreaming about.” I roll my eyes.

“Never that, Future Convict.” He hands me a paper chart, confirming that I’ve passed all of my random screenings. “I’m proud. Between you and me, I think you
liked
me checking up on you. You
wanted
me to.”

I don’t respond.

“And that’s a good thing, Miss Anderson.” The fact that he calls me by my name makes me look up. “It means you’re not as terrible as you think you are. Can you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“I know you’re no longer
required
to attend these sessions after today, but I want you to consider coming back, at least once a week. If not for you, for me, and if not for either of us, come for someone else. No one deserves to be fucked up alone.” He pulls me into a brief hug and then he whispers, “I hope to never have to see you again.”

I laugh and watch him walk down the hallway, shouting, “You carry piss for a living!”

As he approaches the doors, he flips me off with a smile.

“Are we all set up for today’s meeting, Emerald?” Tim steps in front of me.

“Yep.”

“Well, thank you.” He sighs. “You are officially the first person who has managed to go through my rehab course without sharing.”

“Do I get a medal for that?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re going to break down one day, Em. And then—”

“
Em-er-ald
.”

“Em-er-ald. I’m sorry. It’s better to do it around people who know you. I’d hate to see you being forced to come back because you haven’t learned what landed you here in the first place.”

“I was planning to share today, okay?” I pull a folded sheet of paper out of my pocket. “I wrote a fucking speech and everything.”

“You’re joking.”

“Unfortunately not. I want to share today, unless you’d rather stand here and berate me for the rest of the afternoon.”

He smiles and gestures for me to walk into the room first.

As usual, everyone grabs their Starbucks and takes their place in the circle.

We go through our affirmations, and just when we’re preparing to write in our “What I’ve Learned This Week” journals, Tim stands up.

“Wait,” he says. “We’re going to do things a little differently tonight. As you all know, today is our Starbucks supplier’s last day and she has something she wants to say.”

“
What
?”

“Go ahead.” He motions for me to stand as he takes his seat.

I sigh and stand up, looking all around the circle. “Um...First of all, I would like to apologize for laughing at all of you over the past ninety days.

“We never heard you laughing.” “Yeah, you didn’t laugh.” “When was this?”

“I laughed at
all of you
.” I sigh and look over at my main source of entertainment—the woman who brought her childhood blanket to every session. “Especially you. You just cry so fucking much, you know? You cried when it wasn’t even your turn to talk
,
when we were discussing simple shit like what we did over the weekend, and you always—”

“
Emerald
...” Tim rolls his eyes. “Stay focused please.”

“Right...Um...” I shake my head and approach the center podium. “Let me start over.”

I notice everyone shifting in their seats. I’ve never stood at the podium before; standing up and talking is for simple chat, pleasantries. The podium is for the soul cleanse, the shit you want to vomit into the world with hopes of never eating again.

I take a deep breath and briefly close my eyes, telling myself that I can do this. When I open them again, I unfold my paper and start to read.

“My name is Emerald Anderson,” I pause, looking at how perfectly the words are written, how they get my point across, but they only paint half the picture.

I crumple it into a ball and sigh. “My name is Emerald Anderson and I’m not going to bullshit you...I just realized that I was alcoholic a few weeks ago, and I’m going to struggle with this for quite some time because I still wake up in the mornings wanting a drink—
needing
a drink. I’m tempted every day that I go to my current job and I’m honestly shocked that I haven’t snuck a sip yet because it’s way too easy...Way too fucking easy...”

The room is silent.

“I started drinking young, with my mom...She was my
everything
. Even when she did nothing for me, even when she forgot about the things that were important to me, I still thought she was my everything. I never thought twice about her teaching me how to roll blunts or take a perfect shot as a kid. I loved every second of it and was just grateful to have some of her attention.”

I consider stopping my words right here, right before it gets ugly, but I remember Carter saying that no one will judge me here so I continue.

“I can’t remember a time after I turned fourteen that I
wasn’t
drinking with her. When I first started, I only needed a shot or two to get me through the day—a quick glass of wine at the end of the night to listen to her discuss her problems, to
make
her listen to mine...”

Memories of her passed out on our couch flash through my mind—memories of me calling 9-1-1 time and time again because she wasn’t breathing, because her pulse was faint.

“I honestly can’t remember one time that she gave me her undivided attention just because, or a time when she wanted to hang out with me
without
alcohol. I never realized it before this summer, but alcohol is what kept us together. I’m sure she loved me, but...” I stop. I can’t even finish that sentence.

“When she died—I’m sorry, that’s not completely accurate. When she
left me
via suicide, that’s when I realized how lonely I was, when I realized that I literally had no one in my life. So, I drank myself into oblivion every chance that I could. Any chance that her face popped into my mind, I drank because that’s how she used to deal with her problems and I thought it would help mine disappear as well.”