They found me half a week after my disappearance on a park bench, passed out in an inconceivably large puddle of my own sick and surrounded by far too many alcohol containers for a person without a problem.
Although I hadn’t physically died yet, some part of me truly hard. When you feel as broken as I felt then… it’s incredibly hard to come back from that. My journey to recovery wasn’t even close to beginning when my unconscious body was discovered. I wasn’t in the same park as the one I had come across after my train adventure- it wasn’t even the same town. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time.
The exact moment of my rescue will probably always be hazy to me. All I knew in that moment was that it was Bryan who scooped me up and started to walk away with me in his arms. Nobody else had the same tight grip or stomach of steel necessary to get me out of there.
My head had lolled back, eyes flickering open as I began to claw myself free from the blackout.
Another person had put a bottle to my lips and for a second I’d panicked, suddenly unsure of everything. Despite being pretty certain that it was Bryan who was carrying me, my sight wasn’t ready to be a viable source just yet. My already scrambled mind began to fear that I wasn’t being rescued at all. My fight against the constraining arms never gave me freedom and when the bottled water trickled into my mouth my body wasn’t prepared for it. Making me cough and splutter slurred curses. It was like I had been in some kind of accident and needed to learn basic functions all over again. The heavy plodding footsteps became a rhythm and I drifted off into nothing once again…
An intense feeling of déjà vu descended upon me when I awoke fully. Back in my bedroom at my mother’s house, coming out of a blackout… the only difference was that this time a warm hand was clutching onto one of mine; George was there. My mind felt cloudy but I just about managed to prop myself up slightly and almost smile.
“Morning, love.” I whispered.
“It’s the afternoon. And I’m mad at you.” he replied quietly.
My plan had never been to return home to George, although now it had happened I desired a warm embrace and an understanding atmosphere to resonate from him. Instead I simply received an unresponsive stare. And his detachment was understandable, of course; had he been the one to disappear, I would have been losing my mind. Just as he clearly had been. Still, I couldn’t prevent myself from feeling slightly disappointed.
As my brain slowly started to run as normal, I began to weigh everything up. Was I upset that George didn’t seem happy to have me home alive? Or was I more anguished over the fact that I was still alive at all?
“How did you guys find me?” I asked him.
His unblinking eyes looked straight through me as he responded. “A fan of the band recognised you and called Skull. She didn’t want to call the police and get you in trouble.”
“Did you get her name? So I can thank her?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Don’t ever make me say goodbye to you again, James. I can’t go through that again.”
I wanted to shuffle forward and kiss him, tell him I was home to stay. But I was too weak and there was no feeling of romance. George seemed so unknown to me- it was like we were meeting for the first time. Plus I knew that the next step was for me to be sent to rehab, so I wasn’t really home to stay at all.
“Where is everyone?” I broke the silence.
“Downstairs, waiting. Matt’s not here, though, he’s at my house. He kind of went on a bender too after you left- I think he just needs some time to recover.” He grimaced. “C’mon, I’ll help you get dressed.”
The muscles in his arm flexed as he pulled me up and he helped me to hobble along with a tight grip on my waist. First of all we moved into the bathroom where George helped me to get undressed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me naked before, obviously, but I felt so exposed and vulnerable… it was horrible. He made sure I had everything I needed and then turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm.
“D’you remember once after we slept together when we had a shower and you sang the whole time?” I asked him, and warm smirks crept onto both of our faces at the memory. He nodded. “Would you do that for me now?”
He nodded again and went to lean against the sink while I jumped into the shower. I pulled the screen across and as I turned the taps George started to sing. Instantly recognising one of my favourite songs, Life on Mars by David Bowie, I listened as his voice filled the air and the hot water hit my sin.
I began to feel again.
The cold numbness of my body and the dirt that seemed to constantly plague my blood began to be cleansed, sliding down the plughole along with the water that drained away. It was like I could see in colour after a lifetime of all things black and grey- hear sounds for the first time after an era of silence. And it was so perfect for the first thing I heard to be my love singing for me…
There was no way I could ever permanently leave him behind, condemn myself to an imprisoning future without him. He was my love, and hopefully I was still his.
When I stepped out of the shower he handed me my towel, turning his head away while I dried myself. I think he could sense the embarrassment I felt about my body; my skinniness was truly horrific. George needed someone who was at least half as beautiful as him, and while I refused to let him go there was no way I was that man.
My hand was trembling like never before as I reached out to take hold of George’s hand, realising that he wasn’t really mad at me as I did so. He was just furious with our situation. And that was something only I could fix.
“I’m never going to make you say goodbye to me again. I swear.” I stated quietly.
He looked down at our hands and then back up at me. “Thank-you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Together we walked back to my room and he watched while I got dressed. There was no point in wasting time or effort picking out clothes so I just threw on the nearest t-shirt and a pair of black jeans, noticing as I did so that my things hadn’t been moved back from Jake’s house yet.
“C’mon, James,” George said, holding his hand out to me. “let’s go and see everyone.”
I paused and looked around my room for the thousandth time. How many more moments would I spend saying goodbye to this place? Turning back to George, I took his hand but we waited for a moment.
“D’you realise that we’re standing in the same place you kissed me for the first time?” I asked him. His smile flickered but faded quickly.
“I remember.” He spoke quietly. “I’d just found out that you were self-harming.”
I grimaced. Of course he would remember the sadness of the moment. My memory of the situation was exquisite- a gorgeous boy had entered my room, returned something belonging to me, saved me from myself and then kissed me. Meanwhile George only saw the dark side of things, the pain I’d put myself through moments before… the lies and the controversy.
How many more of our memories were shared from vastly different perspectives? Had I read his signs wrong this whole time? What if I looked back on our time together and saw love while he saw bitterness? Perhaps the only reason we had lasted this long was because he was afraid that I might kill myself if he left me- which I probably would have done, that’s no lie- but oh god, oh god, don’t let that be true…
“James, breathe.”
George’s reminder was no use. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as my breathing became erratic, my heart stuttered. His hands clutched at mine in an attempt to keep my arms still but they preferred to shake violently. His voice sounded as he called for help but the noise was overpowered by something else, something unexplainable-
It didn’t stop, but everything seemed to slow down a little. As the door to my room burst open the deafening noise stopped, my hands still shook but not as ferociously, and I could breathe again.
“What just happened?” I asked, my voice way higher than normal. My mum who had entered the room pulled me close to her in an embrace.
“Don’t be scared, sweetie. You might be experiencing alcohol withdrawal- we all did some research in preparation.” she told me in a firm but calm tone. I could tell she’d been practicing how to speak to me, and it felt so false it was worrying.
“Mum, can we just skip the intervention shit and go straight to me getting better?” I asked her.
Did I think it was possible for me to the rest of my life without alcohol? No. Was I feeling an overwhelming sense of motivation to start being happy instead of depressed? No. Was I doing all this to save my relationships with George, my brothers, my family? Yes. I would do anything for them- I’d been prepared to die to save them all from me. Now the question wasn’t in whether I should live or die but rather whether I was really ready to throw it all away. In that moment I just wanted to live, love and be loved. So I made my choice.
“There’s a rehab centre about half an hour away.” George told me. “They have an in-house detox program, they’ll help you through withdrawal… There’s a great aftercare plan and we’ll all be allowed to visit you. You’re not going to go through this alone.”
“Why don’t we go downstairs and talk for a little while with the other guys?” mum suggested. “We need to get going as soon as possible before the withdrawal really kicks in but I think a little conversation could be really beneficial right now.”
I slowly nodded my head. Taking a deep breath, I let her lead me out of the room. This was the beginning of it all. My hands were slowly starting to increase in their tremors, but I tried to ignore it for now. While I knew that not everyone suffered from withdrawal symptoms, it looked like I was in for pain I’d never felt before. And I was scared.
My brothers were gathered in the kitchen. The atmosphere was solemn but their encouraging smiles were welcome attempts at hiding their sadness. Being the person all the attention was focused on made me feel intensely uncomfortable, but I knew it was necessary. I knew how they were feeling- what I had done to myself was as damaging to them as it was to me.
“How’re you feeling, bro?” Jake asked me.
I looked around the room at the warm expressions on everyone’s faces and decided that the right thing was just to be honest with all of them. There was no way for me to prolong denying that I had a problem, so there was no point in lying any more.
“Like shit.” I stated, and he tittered nervously. “I feel like someone pulled my brain out through my nose, marinated it in a mix of whiskey and vodka for half a year, cut off the top of my head to replace my brain and then sewed me up and sent me home.”
“I bet your brain had a hell of a party, though.” Bryan said. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I’m sure it did. Listen guys, I owe you all an apology. I can’t imagine what I’ve put you all through- well, actually I can.” I glanced around the room again. “We’re a family. A crazy, chaotic, dumbass family that gets on each other’s nerves and isn’t afraid to have a fight- but a family none the less. We all protect each other and I know that that’s what you were- are- trying to do for me. That’s what I’d do for all of you too.”
My right hand was shaking even harder now, and mum grabbed hold of it to try and keep it still. I smiled at her, but as my eyes glanced in her direction I noticed the bottle of wine on the counter next to the sink.
Oh hell no…
The distraction came in the form of George’s phone going off, and I was thankful. Ignoring my thirst, I looked to George as he shot me an apologetic grimace and pulled out his mobile. We waited while he answered.
“Hey Bex, can I-”
A moment later he threw the phone across the room and it violently smashed against the kitchen wall, breaking apart as it fell to the ground. It was like someone had pressed fast forward on a remote control and suddenly all of our lives sped up. George was shrieking as he kicked back his chair and fled the room. We all followed him.
I tried not to assume the worst, but we’d been here before…