I’ll just fucking bet he did. I bet he wants to do a whole lot of coming while he’s here.
“And after all this time, he finally came to find you. How nice.”
“He said he wanted to talk. Would you mind holding down the fort for a little while? We’re gonna go get a cup of coffee.”
Fuck. That smug bastard wasn’t interested in coffee. He wanted Cort. I could tell by the hungry look in his dark eyes. They reminded me of one of those lionesses stalking her prey. Watching. Waiting for the right time to pounce and make the kill.
“Sure, no problem.” I swallowed my anger. Cort wouldn’t fall for his bullshit. He was way too smart. But as I watched them leave the store, Bobby put his hand on the small of Cort’s back.
An overwhelming sense of dread crept over me, and I began to doubt myself, something I’d never done in my previous life. My I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, which had carried me through court and my personal life, no longer fit. I didn’t feel like Harlan DeWitt,summa cum laudegraduate of Princeton University and Yale Law School.
Right now I was merely Harlan: bookstore employee, depressed, anxious, and in need of a drink. Instead, I called my counselor.
“Raymond?”
“Harlan, what’s up?”
“You free to talk?”
“Now? Yeah. What’s wrong? You okay?”
God, when did I become so weak? “I-I don’t know. I thought so. I’m working and haven’t thought about drinking until today.”
“So what happened?”
“Cort’s ex showed up at the bookstore.”
“Ah.” Raymond sighed in my ear. “You didn’t mention an ex when we had our sessions.”
“That’s because I didn’t know of one. He only mentioned Bobby after I got back from rehab.” I told him the whole story, and he listened in silence until I finished speaking.
“And now you feel threatened that Bobby’s back, is that it? You think Cort’s gonna choose to go back to him?”
“No,” I blurted out, then corrected myself without thinking. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t even recognize myself sometimes.”
Here I was, spilling my guts to a stranger. Me. The one who always laughed at people who went to therapists, calling them weak and pathetic.
Who’s the weakling now?
“That’s not unusual. You’re not the same person you were before you came to rehab. Peeling back those layers, discovering why you needed to drink, what sets you off to still want to, is all part of your process. It doesn’t magically go away because you made it past the first thirty days.”
“Whendoesit happen?” I wasn’t used to waiting for what I wanted. I was good at taking and asking questions later, if ever.
“Maybe never. Addiction recovery is a lifelong, ongoing process. There’s no magic pill to make it all right. And you never know what might set you off to want that drink or take that hit.”
“So what you’re saying is that I’m like a walking, ticking time bomb, waiting to go off at any time, for any reason.”
“I’m not sure about that. To me, it’s pretty obvious what set you off this time.”
“I know you’re thinking it’s Cort’s old boyfriend showing up.”
“In a way. That action set the ball in motion for you to face up to whatever it is you’re hiding.”
“Who said I’m hiding anything?”
“Fine,” Raymond said cheerfully. “Why does Cort’s ex showing up bother you? Especially since you don’t think Cort wants him anymore.”
“I don’t know.…I don’t…” I walked to the back of the store, keeping my eye on the register. “What do you want me to say?”
