Confessions of a Workaholic

XI.

He grazed the stubble on his jaw, letting out the breath he was holding. The stress of today was taking a toll on him; he could feel it. After running through his schedule with Heather all afternoon, Levi was finally alone with his thoughts, which decidedly wasn't a good thing. The pressure of the gallery opening paled in comparison to the anxiety of seeing Ava tonight, and their phone conversation earlier this morning didn't help. The edge in her tone reminded him that nothing about tonight was going to be easy. It was easier sleeping together than talking. Yet, he wanted more than that – he wanted a relationship. Levi sighed. He craved anything to take the edge off.

This was his first art show in four years. A marker of the progress he'd made in his sobriety. The culmination of years of working to put his life back together. Losing Ava that night was the last straw – the final push to get him to ask for help. Everything he'd done over the last four years was to get back to the things he loved. He just hoped he was ready. It was a softer, more intimate opening, which lessened some of the pressure. But it was his first time attending anything sober. There was nothing to protect him from the crowd of critics, and spectators, and the usual haze that masked most of his life was gone. Yet, the thing that concerned him the most was Ava. They still hadn't talked about that night, which worried him. Everything about their current agreement worried him.

He gripped the roots of his hair, running his fingers through the dark waves. The bar was already set up downstairs, and it would only take a second for him to get a drink in his hand. Levi couldn't push the temptation away. If it were any other night, the desire to drink wouldn't be as strong. Yet, it was a night he never thought he would get.

"You ready?" Isaac leaned on the open-door frame. It was surreal having Isaac here. After everything he put him through over the years – the relapses, the tantrums, the lies. Isaac found him at his lowest, and literally picked him up and helped piece him back together. Levi smirked, "I could sure use a drink."

He laughed, enjoying the return of Levi's sense of humor. For a while there, nothing made Levi smile, let alone laugh. "Hey, you deserve this," Isaac urged, already sensing Levi's uneasiness. "You've worked hard to get here, and no one can take that away from you."

"I still feel like I've got a lot to prove."

"Well, take it slow," Isaac removed his poker chip from his pocket, "twenty-five years, and I still feel like I have a lot to prove, but I take it one day at a time."

Levi shrugged, letting his shoulders relax into the leather chair. Isaac was right, he needed to take it slow. With the art, and his business, Levi was managing, but when it came to Ava, every precaution went out the window. He knew the right thing to do, yet he blanked every time he was with her. Twenty-four hours after getting out of rehab, he'd gone to see her. Now, he was basically at her beck-and-call. He knew Isaac would disapprove, which is why he avoided the subject altogether, but he needed to tell him.

"I invited her."

His words hung in the air, suffocating everything around it. No clarifications were necessary. The start of his sobriety was because of her. The reason he worked so hard to open his gallery again was because of her. Right now, half of his life was dedicated to her, which concerned Isaac, but Levi didn't know how to explain it. He loved her in a way that scared him. It shocked him to discover he could love someone – anyone, this deeply. He was sober and still in love with the same woman he met four years ago.

"Wow," Isaac combed his hands through his gray hair, before moving to sit on the leather couch.

"We've been," Levi paused, unsure how to describe his current arrangement, "seeing each other."

"You know what I'm going to say."

Isaac didn't need to say it, Levi already knew. He'd heard this speech countless times.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Isaac settled into the couch, "especially with everything happening tonight."

Levi didn't argue. Isaac's concern was warranted. He was the one who picked him up from the floor that night and stayed with him at the hospital.

"You are in a really good place right now, and I don't want anything to jeopardize that."

Levi sighed. There was nothing he could say to appease Isaac. He crossed his arms, taking a deep breath, before exhaling. "What do you want me to do," he puffed out, "I love her. It's that simple. Four years later and I still love her. Man, a hundred years could pass by and I will still be in love with her."

Isaac shook his head, brushing his palm against his five o'clock shadow.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Sometimes, if you love something," Isaac hesitated, recognizing the dissent rising within Levi's demeanor.

Levi frowned. "Fuck, that."

"Okay," Isaac raised his hands, and lowered his tone, "okay."

They both sat in silence for a minute, letting the moment pass. Levi was dreading every minute of this conversation. He trusted Isaac with his life, but he also felt passionate and protective over his relationship with Ava. Things were difficult right now, but he never doubted that they were meant to be together. Like he told her, walking away wasn't an option anymore.

"Do me a favor," Isaac drew in a long breath, "I know you've done this a hundred times before, but before the evening begins, or you talk to her again." He waited, making sure Levi was truly listening. "I want you to write down everything you remember that night – the good, the bad, the triggers – write it down, and reflect on it."

Levi nodded. He'd done this exercise a million times – in rehab, in therapy, in meetings. "Okay."

"Good," he stood up, "I'll see you tonight."

Levi moved in to give Isaac a hug, before watching him leave his office. Once again, alone with his thoughts, he pulled out a blank piece of paper and a pen. Most of the night was a haze. He remembered the start of the night, but the end was fuzzier, mainly because he blacked out. His last vivid memory was him professing his love to Ava, only for her to walk away. The sting of rejection led him back to Zarah, which led him to drinking. After that, everything else was hazy. He relaxed into the chair, tapping his pen on the blank paper. There was nothing left to do but write...and so he did.

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