That rearing doesn’t make for drug addicts, right?”
Neil chuckles, but not condescendingly so. “You’ve met my parents. My mother grew up wealthy and spared no expense when it came to my education or social activities. The legacy started by my paternal grandfather with the clinics also afforded me just about everything we could want. With that background, why did I turn out as a drunk?”
I cringe. “Don’t call yourself that.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not doing it in a self-denigrating way. It’s what I am. A recovered drunk, but a drunk nonetheless. Or, if it makes you feel better, alcoholic. Whatever.
What I’m saying is, there’s no one reason, no one thing we can pinpoint that is the answer to why one person becomes an addict and another one doesn’t. You grew up in the same house as Dierdre, and yet you can drink wine without needing to finish the whole bottle.”
He dips his head toward my half-finished glass, all but forgotten, on the table.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I say, running my hand across my forehead. I’ve wracked my brain, trying to discern why Dierdre turned out the way she did. Heck, I started doing it long before she died.
“It probably never will. It’s not helpful for you to torture yourself by trying to figure out what happened or where things went wrong. In truth, you’re trying to figure out where you fell short, aren’t you?”
Inhaling deeply, I turn my body to face Neil. “How’d you know that?”
He grins and leans in, kissing my lips. “Lucky guess.”
“You have experience with it.”
He nods. “Aside from going through my recovery process, I have worked with hundreds of others and their families. Both through my work and personally. I think I have a little bit of experience in the matter.”
Lifting from my knees, I adjust my legs so that I’m now straddling Neil’s outstretched legs with my arms around his shoulders. He begins moving his hands up and down my back. For a long moment, I don’t say anything. I simply stare into his eyes, searching for anything deeper that resides there.
In return, he doesn’t look away or shutter his gaze. He stares at me directly in the eye, allowing me to see him in his entirety.
“I knew you’d be at the cemetery that morning.” His voice is so low, but it fills the space between us.
“What?”
“On the anniversary of your sister’s death. I knew that’s where you would be.”
“How?”
“I saw you there last year and the year before that. I felt drawn there for some reason. Unfortunately, I know more than one past client of our rehab that is buried there. On occasion, I’ll go to visit them. On the first anniversary of her death, I went to visit her. You were already there, seated in front of her headstone. The same way you’ve been there every anniversary since.”
I swallow, not knowing what to say next, but a question slips from my mouth before my thinking mind can decipher it.
“How come you didn’t approach me then?”
He shakes his head. “You needed more time.”
“More time for what?”
“For what I wanted with you. And to mourn your sister.”
I sigh. “Then what Jackie said is true.”
“Depends on what she said.”
“That you had a thing for me for a while.”
He pauses before nodding.
I exhale, feeling strangely relieved. “Me too,” I confess. I’d crushed on Neil since the first time I laid eyes on him.
“I remember the exact day I met you. It was right before our first family therapy session with Dierdre. Both of my parents and I attended. I was two years out of undergrad and entering my second year as a teacher. Life felt like it was happening so fast, and Deirdre slipped deeper into her addiction.”
