Drunk

Chapter Sixty-Three

ASHER

The spontaneous spring break trip was everything I imagined it to be, and more. On the first night, everyone got drunk, besides myself. While Camila and her friends watched a movie with glasses of wine in hand, I pulled Mickey outside to the campfire to talk to him, since I felt my five second apology over the phone didn't cut it. I fucked up, and shouldn't have gone off on him that night at the frat party. Mickey was my only consistent friend since I started college, and in no way was I going to destroy my only friendship over something so trivial. 

"So what's up?" Mickey asked as he joined me outside, taking a seat across from me. Given the end of March weather was still somewhat cold, I inched closer towards the fire in attempt to warm my body up. "You really think we should be leaving them all in there?"

"They'll be fine," I dismissed his worry of the four drunk girls inside. "Camila isn't drinking a lot, she can keep an eye on them." I explained. Ever since Camila started dipping her toes back into social drinking, not once did she take it too far. I worried about her, given her bender only months prior, but she assured me that she was fine. Her friends weren't worried and hell - her family wasn't worried. So I trusted her. She wouldn't take it too far, given what happened last time. She knew what she was doing, and was being careful.

"Has she been - okay with that?" Mickey asked. He hadn't seen Camila, or any of us, for weeks. 

"Yeah," I nodded. "She has a limit, knows how far to go before she should only stick to water."

"Good," he nodded, keeping his eyes on the warm fire. "I worry about her, ever since - " he stopped midsentence, likely not wanting to talk about the traumatic events from Camila's bender. 

"Yeah, I know," I shrugged. "But she's okay."

"Good," he nodded, looking up from the fire. "So what's up?" he asked again.

"I wanted to apologize," I began, keeping my eyes on the fire. I didn't have the energy to look my best friend in the face and apologize for my shitty actions. I felt embarrassed by what I did, wishing I could take it back completely.

"Dude," Mickey laughed. "We already talked about it. You're fine." Mickey was always quick to forgive. He never held any grudges against anyone, which I appreciated. Because there were many times from our crazy college days where I'd abandoned him at parties, completely disappearing with random Tinder hookups and leaving the party without mentioning it. Though sometimes he'd be annoyed in the moment, because in our early college partying days - he didn't have many friends and I was the only person he was willing to hangout with, he never stayed mad for longer than a day. 

"I know," I sighed, knowing he had completely forgotten about the incident. "I just feel bad. And I'm embarrassed that I almost - "

"Tried to beat the shit out of me?" he laughed, amused by my attempt at an apology.

"Don't remind me," I chuckled, looking up from the fire and meeting his amused gaze. Apologizing wasn't necessary, given he was already over it. Though ever since I started meeting with my psychiatrist frequently after my first visit, I knew that the only way to grow from my mistakes was to talk about them, and apologize for the things I'd done wrong. Even if the people hurt were no longer upset. I owed it to myself to try and fix things.

"I should've never jumped to conclusions. I'm sorry for everything I said that night, and my actions that followed." I gulped, referring to the fact that I swung on him, with every intent to punch him in the face. 

"Why are you so adamant on apologizing?" Mickey asked, clearly confused. 

I sighed, sitting back in my lawn chair and staring at the darkened sky. "Well if you must know, I started going to therapy. Per my dad's request." I rolled my eyes, and despite how many issues I have with my dad, a part of me was glad he gave me that ultimatum. Although I was extremely hesitant at first and completely in denial, I was relieved to have gone. Because in the three sessions I'd had so far, I learned so much. And although I don't have anger issues like my dad originally believed, there were other issues with me that I needed to get sorted out. Like the fact that I hold grudges, and have difficulty taking responsibility for my actions. Shifting the blame, and taking my frustrations out on other people instead of dealing with them myself. In only three short sessions, I was learning a lot about myself, which I was willing to change and grow from.