Page 141 of The Apple Tree

This went on until the week of Thanksgiving. I had ten days before I could check out and be welcomed home.

“What brought you here?” he asked again.

I was feeling down that day. My heart ached for Kyle and Josh. I missed my sisters and Erin. It was a hard week. And I so badly wanted to check myself out and stay at the motel where I probably no longer had a job. When my parents said I couldn’t work at that motel for the rest of my life, I never imagined it would be because I’d lose my job.

“Eve?” He brought my attention back to him.

I ran my fingers through my hair and stared out the window at the nearly naked trees. A few dried-up leaves clung to branches. I empathized with them. I was still hanging on, too, but just barely.

Twenty days, and nobody came to visit me. Granted, I told them not to.

“What brought me here …” I whispered. My parents drove, but I had to check myself into the clinic.

I told myself it was for my mom because I was scared she’d take her life. And that wasn’t untrue, but I used it as an excuse for being there. I pretended I didn’t need to be there for me—that I didn’t have a problem.

Then I thought of Josh.

And I heard his screams.

I saw the look in Kyle’s eyes when he realized I’d been drinking.

My lip began to shake, and tears filled my eyes. “I showed up at Kyle’s house with a Gatorade bottle of vodka. And I took a hot pizza out of the oven and dropped it on his son.” I covered my mouth and shook in silent sobs.

He handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes and pressed it to my nose. “H-he was b-burned s-so badly.” I sniffled repeatedly, fighting for composure to go on. “And Kyle’s arm was still in a sling. So he had to carry Josh to the truck and drive him to the hospital because I couldn’t.”

“And that’s why you’re here?” he asked.

The fact that he posed it as a question instead of a statement made me think I had yet to give him the correct response. It was frustrating. If he knew the answer, why didn’t he tell me?

My mind only focused on my broken heart.

Twenty days and no one came to visit me.

How could Kyle have carried me in his condition and rescued me but not visited me at the hospital or the rehab center?

“Eve, if this is too much for you today, we don’t have to go the whole?—”

“I’m here because I almost died.” I lifted my gaze to his, no longer attempting to keep up with the tears. “That’s what brought me here.”

Self-reflection hurt. I looked to everyone else to explain my behavior.

“I’m not addicted to alcohol, but I abuse it. And it’s hurting me and others. It robs me of my life, my happiness.Idid this. It wasmychoice.”

He relaxed, removing his glasses and offering me a sad smile as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yes,” he whispered.

More tears escaped as I sat with my thoughts.

Drinking didn’t make me feel like an adult. Sobriety did.

The day before Thanksgiving,I had my first visitors. When I reached the common area, my girls were waiting for me.

Sarah, Gabby, and Erin stood from the old brown sofa, smiles on their beautiful faces.

I walked toward them and stopped with six feet between us while I looked at the ceiling. “I’m not going to cry. Don’t you dare make me cry,” I said.

But my words made all three of them laugh … and then cry.

Sarah hugged me first. “You’ve got this. Eight more days.”

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