Addiction in August | Completed

Chapter 26: Deadbeat

Deadbeat

      With a grocery bag in my hand and my pockets full of items with my medicine, I board the bus. I glance toward the back to see if Max is here, when Charlie suddenly stands up from his seat. Smiling at him, I welcome him into a hug and pat his back with my good hand. He squeezes me tightly, ignoring my squeak of protest as my busted ribs get slightly compressed. Once he finally lets me go, he beams at me proudly and sits back at his chair. I laugh to myself and walk down the aisle toward my seat.

It's a long ride toward the outskirts of the city and I settle in for the journey ahead. The bus dips in and out of darkened streets and destinations, and Charlie keeps glancing back at me when it's clear that I'm not getting off any time soon. When he boards the highway leading out to the edge of the city, I smile when the clouds disperse slightly. I can see the sun now from where it sits overhead, dangling off of the edge of a grey cloud in the sky.

I stifle a yawn as I step off of the bus and onto the sidewalk. It's chilly, but the sun makes it a little more bearable. As I cut up onto the grass, the toes of my boots kick up dew and it splashes back onto the ankles of my jeans. I ignore the ache in my side and my leg at the pain of trekking uphill, and instead focus on the figure crouched over my destination. When I reach it, I tilt my head curiously and stare at the woman laying down a bundle of orchids.

"...Linda?" I wonder aloud.

The woman who used to be my neighbor, who used to constantly be mad at my dad for being a jackass, who used to scowl behind my back, is crouched over my dad's headstone. Part of me thinks that when she rises and faces me with wide eyes, there'll be middle fingers drawn all over his name.

There aren't.

"August," she greets with a warm, motherly smile.

"You've been the one leaving flowers...?"

Linda nods.

"Why?" I ask with a laugh. "I thought you hated my dad."

"Oh no, honey. Blake and I were friends," she tells me with an innocent shrug. "He used to come with me to my Alcoholics Anonymous group meeting."

My brows furrow and I know I look befuddled. My dad used to go to AA meetings regularly? With Linda? Is Linda an alcoholic?

Linda smiles at my face and lifts a coin from her pocket. She holds it out to me and says, "Ten years sober."

"Wow," I reply, my brows furrowing as I look at the coin.

She nods and puts her coin away again. Then she explains further and says, "I used to be a lot like your dad, in a way. I have a son, around your age. But the only difference between Blake and I is... I lost everything before I got sober. You reminded me a lot of my son, truthfully, so I suppose I took it upon myself to help Blake get better."

"I guess you were too late," I replied with a motion toward the grave.

"Yes," she says, bobbing her head in agreement. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Bye, August."

"Bye," I mutter as she walks past me. I frown, though, and follow her with my eyes. "Linda?"

She stops walking and looks back at me expectantly.

"Do you... talk to your son now?"

Her face splits into a warm grin and her eyes sparkle with joy. She tells me, "I do, yes. We reconnected five years ago, now. I usually go over there on the weekends to help him and his wife with the baby, actually."

"That's great," I tell her honestly, and recall that she'd sometimes be gone from the building for days at a time.

"Come by anytime, August," she says like she knows something that I don't— which she probably does. All older women do.