Jessica Sankiewicz - If Only We

Kaitlin is having a sleepover at our house. I could stay in with them, but I don’t want to be the older stepsister getting in the way and end up stuck in my room all night. Besides, I need some air. I spend too much time indoors when it's summer. I should be outside, breathing in fresh air, smelling flowers, lying in the grass. I suppose that last bit sounds a little boring. It’s not. Spend five days mostly indoors and tell me lying in the grass doesn't sound good.

I would get in touch with Chevy but I don’t want him to feel like I'm smothering him. Right now, his family needs him and I respect their need for some space. There are many things to sort out.

After eating dinner with the family and Kaitlin’s friends, I excuse myself to take a walk. I put headphones on and set the player to a playlist of music from the eighties. I head up the street toward the park and stroll around the paths for half an hour until I settle on a bench overlooking the pond. I sit there with my arms around my knees, taking in the sights. There are some ducks walking around at the edge, some actually on the pond. A few people walk by, some with their dogs. I barely register anything other than the music tiptoeing through my mind.

I close my eyes, trying my best not to think about anything. It's hard not to when all of your problems and mistakes are what encompass your whole existence in this point and time. I may be making progress but I'm still walking a fine line. I could slip at any moment. I could fall. I could lose everything I have worked for up until now. It terrifies me to think like that, but it is the reality. I have spent weeks focused on doing the right things in the right ways because all I want is to be optimistic. Life was so pessimistic the first time around, I wanted this time to be different. Is it going to be different?

Before I can think more about it, I open my eyes and become aware of somebody sitting on the bench next to me. I nearly jump up until I realize who it is. Chevy. He is staring intently at the pond. I pull the headphones off and ask, “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Not long,” he says. Something about his voice is removed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to get some air.”

“Same here.” When he doesn’t say anything else, I say, “Are you okay?” He shakes his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugs. “Have you ever had one of those moments where your life felt like it was falling apart?”

My mind flinches at the reality of his words. “Yeah, I have.”

“What did you do?”

“I cried my eyes out and wished for a second chance.”

“Did you get one?”

I hesitate but decide to answer him honestly. “Yes, but I don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

He gets quiet again, but I give him a moment to speak. “My dad had a relapse,” he finally says.

My heart stops. “When?”

“Yesterday.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Apparently, he used to hide alcohol in his office and not just get it from the cabinet or refrigerator. We found a bottle of vodka buried in his desk drawer.”

I have been so worried something like this would happen. The last thing I need right now is for him to go back to the alcohol and then into that car again. “Oh no.”

“Yeah. He says he’s committed to this, and then he lies about this.” Chevy balls his hand into a fist and taps his leg. “What if he’s still lying and there are more bottles hidden around the house? Or at work? Or he sneaks over to a friend’s house?”

If I thought I was worried, knowing what I know, it is probably much worse for Chevy not knowing what could possibly happen. “Hey,” I say as I scoot closer to him. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

“Do what to myself?” he asks, turning to face me.

“Go over all the what ifs and torture yourself.” Like I keep doing. “He knows how important this is, but you have to realize that addiction is hard to break. Old habits are easy to fall back into at times. It’s like when people quit smoking and to ease themselves out of it, they keep lollipops around to keep their hands and mouth occupied. Unfortunately, lying is a side effect of alcoholism.”

“I know that, but why couldn’t he just have been honest up front?”

I sigh. “I wish I knew the answer to that.”

“Me too.”

“Look,” I say, looking him right in the eye. “Your family will get through this. It’s going to take some time. These things don’t just happen overnight. You can’t follow him everywhere to make sure he's not drinking. You have to trust him. Be there for him. I’m sure he’s upset with himself over the relapse.”

“Yeah, he was.” He sighs. Then he puts his arm around me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adrienne.”

I touch my hand to his hand on my shoulder. “Likewise.” It's strange. I used to get a fluttery feeling inside whenever he touched me. Sitting here with his arm around me doesn’t feel like that anymore. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. “You want to go home?”

“No,” he says as he shakes his head. “I would like to just stay here for a little bit, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is.” I relax beside him and we sit there for a moment in the stillness of the park. When a light breeze passes by, a memory from the end of junior year comes to me.

My mom was getting married in a month and I was going crazy dealing with the last-minute wedding preparations, not to mention the fact that Maurice and Kaitlin would be moving in very soon. Headaches were standard for me by the time I got to school. By the time last period arrived, I was dreading going home. I had my head in my hands when Chevy sat in his seat next to mine.

I hadn’t even realized he was there until he said, “You know, if you don’t cheer up, you’ll cause a tornado in Kansas.”

I peeked over at him through my hand. “Isn’t that supposed to be a butterfly flapping its wings?”

“No, it’s when pretty girls are sad,” he stated matter-of-factly. “It also makes me sad too. That’s why they call it the chaos theory.”

“You’re lying,” I said, fighting the smile that wanted to appear over him calling me pretty.

“It’s true.” He had the straightest face on. “You can look it up in any encyclopedia and it will say, ‘When a pretty girl is sad, the possibility of a phenomenon like a tornado will occur.’”

I finally broke down and laughed.

“See. That’s better. Now the wind will blow peacefully through the trees,” he said with a smile.

His ability to cheer me up with something so improbable was the sweetest thing. That sweetness about him made me even more smitten, but now that I think back on it, it was the beginning of something more. Before, I was just infatuated. After, it was blossoming into more. Now? It's no longer a feeling with no basis.

It's something much deeper.

Instead of worrying about smothering him, I check in with Chevy every day from that moment on. He wants me to be there, as a friend at the very least, and I'm determined to be such. John is getting a better grip on sobriety since the relapse. It causes a slow sense of relief to come over me, not to mention thankfulness. Of course, he’s only been sober one week again, but I'm trying hard to be optimistic. I was given a second chance and I will not let the same thing happen all over again. The more positive I am about it, the more likely things will turn out the way they should be.

Right?

I call my dad up to see if I can come for the weekend soon but only hear his voice on the answering machine. I leave a quick message just telling him that I miss him and hope to see him soon. He's probably working overtime; that's what he did most of the time I was there. Considering it's Saturday afternoon, I may not hear back from him until Sunday evening at the earliest.

I'll be meeting up with Lyndsay, Ben, and Chevy for pizza later tonight. I wish I could spend the time finishing my latest project, a matching wallet and billfold set, but that has to wait until Monday morning. Instead, I pull Kaitlin from her latest book and we watch a few more episodes together.

Ever since the sleepover, she has become distant again. When I asked her how it went, she was very brief in her response. She said that it was a lot of fun but her tone indicated otherwise. All I can think of is that maybe she and Paige had a little fight and then made up later on. If it was anything serious, I doubt she would even be in the mood for a TV marathon.

* * *

“Have you got any stories from work to tell?” I ask Lyndsay and Ben. I take a sip out of my glass of pop. The pizza place is busy tonight, which is not surprising since it's a Saturday night. Luckily, we got there early enough to get a booth before they were all taken.

They share a knowing glance. Ben says, “Oh yeah.”

“Do tell.” I gesture and take the last bite of my third slice of pizza.

“A five-year-old kid ran through the whole store up and down the aisles. Then he proceeded to grab a candy bar and run out the door.”

“Oh man,” Chevy says. “Did he get away?”

“No, one of the gals saw him bolt and chased him down. Apparently, he was with his mom at the Laundromat next door. She gave him a dollar to get a candy bar from the machine but when she turned her back, he left and came to our store. She apologized profusely and gave us the dollar.” He chuckles. “I think the kid was just bored out of his mind having to sit around for a long time. I always hated those times when the washer broke and we had to go there.”

Chevy says, “I doubt you’d have run through a grocery store to take care of the boredom.”

“I might have.” When we all laugh, he adds, “Come on, I had a short attention span back then.”

“So did I,” Chevy says. Ben gives him a high five.

Lyndsay and I give each other a look. “I think it’s a boy thing,” I whisper.

She nods. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Ben shakes his head. “No, it’s…” Then he shrugs. “Maybe it is sort of a boy thing. It’s kind of hard for me to know if it’s a girl thing.” He points to the last piece of pizza. “Anyone want this or is it mine?”

“You can have it,” I say with a sigh. “I’m full.”

Chevy waves it off too. “All yours, buddy.” He didn't eat much tonight. He has been thinking about his dad a lot lately and I know he is worried. I am a little more worried about Chevy at the moment. There has to be something I can do to cheer him up. Wait a minute. It’s Saturday night. At the coffee-house, it's karaoke night.

I'm going to sing for him.

As Ben finishes the last slice, I speak up, “So, where are we going next?”

“I haven’t a clue, darling,” Lyndsay says as she shuffles through her purse. “You have something in mind?”

“Maybe,” I say with a sly grin.

Chevy looks at me curiously. “What is it?”

“I'm thinking…it’s time for me to make good on a certain karaoke promise I made awhile back.”

When I wink at Chevy, he gets a big grin on his face. “Really?”

“Would I joke around about something so important to you?” I ask, tilting my head.

He smirks. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

* * *

As we walk up to The Caffeine Café, there is a flutter in my stomach that reminds me of the last time I sang alone. I shiver. Chevy notices and asks, “Are you cold?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

He looks at me in a way that feels like he wants to ask something else, but he doesn’t.

Once we get inside, it becomes apparent that tonight is not karaoke night. A band is up on the stage playing a bluesy song. A wave of relief washes over me, along with a twinge of guilt. I did make a promise, after all. I turn to Chevy. “I don’t think you’ll be getting your song tonight.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so either,” he says with a frown.

“Do you want to go or should we stay?”

“We can stay for a little bit. I like jazz and these guys sound pretty good.”

Lyndsay says, “Well, I’m going to get myself an iced coffee. Anyone else want something?” We both shake our heads. “Okay, come on Ben.”

While they go to the counter, Chevy and I walk over to an empty table and sit down. The song ends and everyone claps. When the next one starts, it's a slow song. A couple stands up and goes to the open area in front of the stage to dance. Chevy leans over to me with a hand out. “Want to dance?”