“How come?”
“She already thinks I’m a screw-up. If she knew about AA, she’d be all over my ass.”
“I don’t know about that. Look at the trouble I found myself in last spring. If she was pissed, I never knew it. She was just there for me. She gives people a lot of grace, Dad.”
“When it comes to failed attempts at sobriety, though? I don’t know, buddy.”
“I do—I talked to her earlier. She wants you to do what it takes to get healthy, and if a meeting is the first step, she’s gonna support you. So will I.”
“But isn’t it weak, having to sit with a bunch of strangers and admit that you don’t know your limits?”
“I think it’s the opposite of weak. It takes balls to ask for help.” I run a hand through my hair. Difficult as this conversation is, I’ve got to put it all out there. I’ve got to tell him how badly he scared me. “I don’t want to see you unconscious and bleeding ever again. If talking things out with strangers a couple of times a week keeps you on your feet, then I think you should do it. And if you’re not willing to try, I won’t stick around.”
“Henry—”
“No. It’s that simple.”
He sighs. “You sound like your mom.”
“Is that supposed to be a dig?”
“Not even close.” He rubs his eyes like someone kicked dust in them. When he looks at me again, his expression is less distressed than it was when I walked into the room. “If getting sober is what it takes to keep you in Florida, I’ll do it. Meetings, sponsor, booze down the toilet—the whole thing. But don’t go getting a big head. I’m gonna do it for myself more than anyone. I’m tired of not remembering what happened the night before. Of feeling like shit every morning. Of disappointing the people who care about me. I want to take back control.”
“What about your job?”
“What about it?”
“You own a sports bar.”
“I don’t have to drink while I’m there—I haven’t always. I’ll do the work. You’ve got my word.”
I let out a breath, rolling the kinks from my neck. I’m freaking drained, but I feel liberated too. Finally, the stress that’s beenweighing on me has lessened. Finally, resolution is in sight. Dad wants to recover. He wants to be around for me, and I want to be around for him. His conviction has seeped into me; if he can do hard things, I can too.
I need to clear the air with Whitney. Hurt feelings or not, I need to be honest with her. Piper too—I don’t know where she and I stand after last night, but I want to try and fix what’s broken between us. No more secrets. No more guilt. No more half-truths.
“I’m gonna stay in Sugar Bay through senior year,” I tell my dad.
He grins. “Florida looks good on you. She’s giving you a kick-ass tan.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that weighed heavily in my choice to stick around.”
Later, I go to the cafeteria in search of something to drink while my parents have it out on the phone. When I get back to Dad’s room with a Gatorade for him and a soda for me, he’s hung up with Mom.
“She’s tough,” he says, but he doesn’t seem beaten down.
The opposite, actually.
“Only when she cares,” I tell him.
***
I leave for the Towers. I’ll head back to the hospital when Dad’s discharged, but for now, I’m craving a hot shower, a nap, anda couple of Advil. The hospital’s a few miles from home—it’s weird to call Dad’s apartmenthome—so I summon a rideshare. The app says I’ve got a few minutes to wait. I use the time to dial Whitney.
“Hey,” she answers. “I was hoping you’d call. I thought—”
“Hang on.” I sink onto a bench outside the hospital’s entrance. “I’ve got to say something, and you’re not gonna like it.”
I put it all out there. I tell her that even though I was sad about ending the pregnancy, I was relieved too. I tell her how awful I feel about our fights leading up to the breakup, and after. I tell her how much I hate it that she got so sick. I tell her she was the first girl I ever fell in love with, and then I tell her I’m not coming back to Spokane next month. I tell her I’m sorry.
