Page 66 of Misconduct Zone

“I finally realized it will never be enough for her. She will never have the life I’ve earned. Nothing I can give her will satisfy her. If she somehow achieved my level of success, she could never sustain it. She’s not dedicated, or a hard worker, or kind to people. She’d be an internet train wreck.” I step around the island, close enough to engulf myself in his body heat.

“It must be difficult to understand that about your mom.” His fingers splay out on my forearm, and my body sings.

“The subconscious part of my brain has known for years and years, but it sucks knowing the truth. You’ve helped me see things clearly. Your actions, more than your words, show me what support means. Lars, you brought me into your home and changed your life for me. You declared our living space dry and abstain in solidarity with me. My family couldn’t do that for a day. The thought of her in my daily life makes me ill.” I stare at the ceiling, reflecting on my turmoil.

“It is what you do when you care for someone,” he says nonchalantly, leading me to the couch and slouching against the arm.

“It isn’t. Most people don’t. You’re extraordinary.” The truth slices my hard-fought self-confidence. “It hurts knowing my family can’t make sacrifices for me.”

“I am sorry they cannot support you. You deserve better.” Lars’s sentiment rings true. Unfortunately, he’s not done speaking. “But I think you know there are things we have to talk about.”

There’re an astronomical number of things Lars needs to hear, and the night I spent in the hotel with the bottle of Maker’s Mark seems like a month ago. I’m not sure where to start.

Lars inhales and my heart falls to my stomach. “You said you were going to meet with your sponsor, but that was not true. What were you hiding?”

I swallow hard and decide I have to be brutally honest. “At the Halloween party, I had a visceral urge to drink and thought I would give in. I was sure you knew. I needed to clear my head and went for a walk. You assumed I went to see my sponsor, and I didn’t correct you. I planned to tell you when I got back,but I overheard you talking to your therapist.” I’m breathing hard, but I have to continue.

“You were afraid to upset me.” If I were a swan, I’d be flapping my wings and swimming erratically, but as a human, there’s sweat on my brow. “I was…amafraid of what you need to tell me. I panicked and wasn’t ready to hear it.”

“So you disappeared because I want to tell you about my past and how I feel about you?” Lars’s words are slow, trying to piece together what I’m not saying.

But now I’m confused. “Your past? What does that have to do with me?”

We speak simultaneously. “What did you think I was going to say?” he asks, and I continue, “What were you afraid of?”

We stare warily at each other. Even if we end tonight, he should have all the facts to make that decision.

“I thought you were going to ask me to move out or tell me you didn’t want a relationship with me because my addiction is too much to handle.” It sounds foolish, but the underlying fear still exists that if I’m not actively doing something for him, he’ll decide I’m not worth the trouble.

They’re my mother’s words, always telling me I wasn’t worth the trouble. I thought all parents talked to their kids like that until I stayed with other families. Even though I know better, it’s hard to break ingrained inadequacy. It’s why I pushed myself too hard with my shoulder injury and caused myself added pain. Proving my worth is my default.

“No,” he says simply, and the word explodes in my brain.

“No?” I whisper, finally looking at him

“I have lots of things to say, but I have to know why you stayed out all night.”

All my thoughts jumble, fighting to get out. “I was so singularly focused on proving myself strong enough for you that I disregarded the impact it would have on you. Making sure I wouldn’t drag you down with me was my priority. Instead of being honest and accountable, I snuck off.

“Dumbly, I thought I could hide my failure if necessary. The first thing I learned in recovery is admitting powerlessness and accepting help. But my pride got in the way. I needed irrefutable evidence I can stay sober and you can…” I almost say “love me” but that’s getting ahead of myself.

“Youdo not need to prove anything to me.” He takes my hand in his, and I inch closer on the cushion. “I am the dependent one. I lost my mind when you were gone and would have called the police to find you, but Patrik, Finn, and Trevor stopped me. I imagined all the terrible things that could have happened. In the history of our friendship, you have never cut me off. You hurt me when you left, and I do not understand.”

“I’m sorry.” My gut churns. “I went to a dark place, thinking you couldn’t trust my sobriety or worse, thought I was incapable of being a good partner. Saying I handled it badly is an understatement. I should’ve let you know what I was doing, but I was afraid you would stop me.” Everything I did sounds so stupid, and I haven’t even gotten to the worst part.

“I never doubted you until you lied to me. What did you do?” The storm clouds in his eyes speed up my heart.

“I bought a bottle of whiskey, poured a glass, and sat next to it all night,” I say in a rush, and he jumps up, paces around the living room, and collapses back onto the couch. “It was a test.”

Lars’s face is slack with horror while his body does its best not to recoil from me. I’m fucking this up.

“I’ve had cravings, but it’s been fairly easy to resist because there’s nothing of substance in our house and I have you. But you can’t be with me all the time, and I can’t allow you to be my security blanket. Not if we’re going to be in a relationship. I have to stand on my own.” Every cell in my body reaches for him, but I keep the distance between us.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it? That’s what partners do. I worry when the man,” he pauses, “I care about is suffering in silence and disappears to handle things alone.” He’s measuring his words, and I wish he’d unleash the messy thoughts in his brain on me.

“That sounds logical and reasonable,” I admit. “And I don’t have an excuse. I fell back on old patterns. Growing up, weaknesses were used as weapons in my house. I felt I had to prove I was strong before we made a commitment to each other. I know we’ve said things in the heat of sex, and I won’t hold youto them.” To be a better partner, I’m going to have to listen and understand. Understanding is my Achilles heel right now.

“You think I am not committed to you and said things I don’t mean?” he cuts in.

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