differences

2. it's just a spark but it's enough to keep me going

[an: I just want to give a trigger warning that throughout this series I'll be writing about alcoholism/substance abuse; ALSO; I mean no disrespect to Anne and her characterization throughout this series, this is just a classic AU characterization]

louis

"Ready for the big day?" I ask Harry, picking him up from his house.
"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose, I wish it was the real thing," he tells me, getting inside my car and buckling up.
"Well, it's different circumstances, it counts for the same thing," I reply. "Either way, I'm proud of you for getting your graduation equivalent."
"Thanks, I feel so behind," he sighs, "I should be graduating college or something by now."
"Everyone goes at their own pace. I'm sorry you were interrupted from your big day."
"It's okay, there's nothing that I can do about it now but move forward. At least I'll be ready for college next fall," he chuckles.
I can tell that the "Harry non-stop work ethic," truly didn't disappear, and he expected himself to obtain his diploma and college degree while he was comatose.
Three days after he was discharged he was texting me through out the week to tell me how hard he was pushing himself to study for the G.E.D. I tried telling him to rest and take it easy, but his stubbornness is the same today as it was 7 years ago.
He did mention that he was scared because the doctors explained that some people with brain injuries, might not be as sharp as they once were. I know he's playing this off like he just took a really long nap, but I'm concerned with how hard he's pushing himself, I don't even think he sleeps that much.
I go back to my house after dropping him off to grade a few pages for my classes. Focusing is kind of hard because I am scared, almost guilty, even.
I'm afraid one day, Harry will wake up and blame me for everything. It was my party, my fake I.D that bought the alcohol, my encouragement for him to let loose and drink that night.
I didn't mean for any of this to happen to him, I just expected him to have a hangover. Just a hangover.
This guilty feeling never seems to go away, even when I had moved forward with my life, I just couldn't get past the guilt that a situation I put someone I care about, resulted in this accident.
His mother swore to me, that he'd want me to make the most of my life, because he wouldn't get to live his for what we thought would be, ever. She told me relentless times, with the most grace a mother could have, that it wasn't my fault.
I remember a few months into his coma, I came to see him during winter break from college. I was crying when Anne showed up.
"Alcohol has consumed my life in every way. I was drunk before I got pregnant, during my pregnancy with Harry, of and on. I remember having Gemma hide airplane bottles of liquor in her book bag so the second I gave birth I could drink when they took him for his bath. I was the worst parent a child could ask for, to both of them. I was drunk when the cops came the night of his accident to inform me what had happened. In my head, I still couldn't believe the severity of it all, I just thought he'd get his stomach pumped and we could share Bloody Mary's in morning, but days passed, and then weeks. I would cry at my son's bed, flask in one hand, his hand in my other.
I don't know when it hit me, I just knew then and there that if I promised this was my last sip, I would do Harry the honor he's been doing for me all his life; not giving up on someone you love.
This isn't your fault Louis, and Harry would say the same thing if he were able to tell you himself. You guys are 18 years old, who weren't doing anything that teenagers everywhere don't do.
I have to forgive myself to stop drinking, you have to forgive yourself to keep living."
Her words many years ago struck a nerve in me today, although it was years ago, I'll never forget them. I try to justify my actions with her kind words to me, but it's just a feeling that never seems to go away.
When Harry calls me to pick him up, I rush to my vehicle and start the drive over. He looks very cheerful, and pleased with himself.
"I just know I aced that shit, it was so easy," he chuckles, getting into my car.
"I'm glad it wasn't hard, you should be proud of yourself!" I tell him. "Let me cook you dinner to celebrate!"
"Sounds good, I'm starving!" He says, cheerfully.