Page 63 of Forgive Me Not
Emma:But I do like wine. A lot.
Rachel:No. You used to. Do you want me to come around? I can be there in less than an hour.
Rachel:Emma?
Rachel:EMMA? SPEAK TO ME. ARE YOU THERE?
Emma:Yes. Look, just forget I said anything. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I’ll message you tomorrow.
Rachel:No! No you don’t. You don’t give up your sobriety like that. Remember who you’re doing it for – who set you on this journey.
Emma:That’s unfair.
Rachel:No it’s not. You start drinking again, Emma, and you’re letting not only yourself down, but Josephine as well.
A sob rose at the back of Emma’s throat.
Rachel:Get around to your neighbour’s.
Rachel:Emma?
Emma:I’m back.
Rachel:You’ve done it?
Emma:Yes.
Rachel:Honest?
Emma:Yes. Thanks so much. I can’t believe I almost threw away everything I’ve achieved. I don’t ever want to go back to being the person I used to be. And you were right. If I start drinking again, I’m breaking my promise to my little girl.
Emma wiped her eyes and her shoulders relaxed.
Emma:It was my neighbour’s birthday, so good timing, I guess. What a relief.
Rachel:The first year is hideously difficult, everyone knows that. Do you remember Tess telling us the main reason people relapse?
Emma:They stopped drinking but didn’t change their lives.
Rachel:Exactly. But look at you with your volunteering and your meditation…
Emma:I think I’ll head out for a walk. The fresh air will do me good. Maybe I’ll stop off somewhere and get a hot chocolate.
Rachel:Good idea – but ring me before you go to bed. Let me know you’re still okay.
Emma:Thanks, Rachel. You’re a star. Give Idris a tickle behind the ears from me.
Emma grabbed her jacket, her purse and her front door keys and headed outside into the brisk air, a renewed purpose in her stride. As she passed through the park gates, she took in the detail of a nearby tree, its branches outstretched as if welcoming the sky. Each leaf looked the same as the next, yet close up totally different. She inhaled the fresh scent of moist soil and the timber smell of a nearby log that had been cut up. Simple things that had been left unappreciated during her drinking years.
Thank God. Thank God she’d messaged Rachel.
She sat on a bench and studied the ground. A worm slunk past. A beetle shinier than patent leather tottered under the bench. Over the last years at Foxglove Farm, Emma had become so disconnected from nature, always looking to some imaginary future and never appreciating what was around her. Like the majestic weeping willow. The cacophony of croaks from the pond during mating season. The rich aroma of overripe tomatoes. The thud of goats’ hooves as they played around. Little luxuries compared to life on the streets.
She bent down and picked a dandelion, and watched seeds drift through the air as she blew on its head. A young mother pushed her little girl on a swing. Every time she stopped and suggested it was time to go home for a bath, her daughter protested loudly, shouting, ‘Again, again!’ and giggling. Emma studied the cute pigtails and bright yellow wellington boots. The mother kissed the top of her head and they held hands tightly when they eventually left the play area.
It was scary how close Emma had come to betraying the memory of her own daughter. She felt sick at the thought of how just a few moments of madness could have undone months of hard work. Getting through those cravings, giving the wine away… that had made her feel so strong. Staying well meant that Josephine was still with her.
The GP had signed Emma off work for another two months. That took her to the beginning of June – almost one year exactly after she’d first approached addiction services.
