As I Am

Chapter Twenty-One

            “This town?”

            “You know that scrawny kid we just saw? I’ve hung around him a few times,” he says to prove a point. “Somehow these friends of mine could easily get a hold of a six pack of beer and mickeys of vodka. Somehow I found it easy to get a hold of these things too, and even easier to consume them quicker than my so-called friends.”

            I nod and hold my drink between my legs, not wanting to interrupt him. I hadn’t expected this story to come out of between Evan’s lips, yet it feels like it isn’t a big deal to me, like I don’t look at him differently. It feels like I’ve always known, even though I haven’t.

            “When I came home so drunk one night that I threw up in my sleep, my brother, who was home from college found me and cleaned me up. He made me go to a meeting with him for my sake, and didn’t go back to college until things between my mother, step-father and I were okay. It was the worst two years of my life and since the first meeting, I’ve been going ever since. It’s kind of like…” he trails off, searching for the right word.

            “Kind of like they get you,” I finish for him.

            Evan smiles. “Exactly. I felt like the people there understood how I felt and though I never thought of myself of an alcoholic until then, I depended on it more than I should.”

            “Why though?” I ask quietly.

            “Because it was easier to get drunk and have fun to be sober and deal with life,” he states.

            “But I saw you the first day, drinking a beer on your front porch,” I say, looking at him. He meets my eyes and my lips form a thin line. “You weren’t being yourself, at least the you I know now, and you were drinking.”

            “It was the anniversary of my father’s death. It was a mistake but I drank that day for the first time in five months. I haven’t touched it since though.”

            I smile. “That’s great.”

            Evan bumps his shoulders into mine playfully and reaches into the bag of fries. He pulls out some and I snag one from his grasp.

            “Now it’s your turn to backtrack.”

            “Okay,” I say as I stare at the stars. I’m trying to think of what to say first as I chew on my stolen french fry. Somehow, after talking to Douglas and also hearing his story, I feel emptier than I usually do, as if a weight I’ve been carrying is no longer sitting on my shoulders. Telling Evan things I haven’t is a big deal to me, something that I’ve been avoiding, but it definitely isn’t the biggest. I don’t know how to face that obstacle. “Well, for starters, I told my parents about Craig earlier.”

            “You did?”

            “Yup,” I say with a pop. “We’re going to talk to the police tomorrow.”