Page 67 of Happy Harbor
She could hear Josie calling out behind her, breathless herself. Kendra eventually caught up and touched her arm.
“Grandma, stop running.”
Okay, maybe she was running. Her legs burning, she stopped and leaned over, her breath struggling to escape her mouth.
“Are you okay?” Josie asked.
She wanted to turn and yell that she was not okay, that none of this was okay. But her relationship with her daughter was tenuous at best, and she didn’t want to rock the boat. Her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t know.”
“Kendra, why don’t you take my card and pay for the blue dress? We’ll meet you at home,” Josie said. Her daughter nodded before rubbing her grandmother’s arm and disappearing down the sidewalk. “Come over here.” Josie pointed toward a wrought iron bench on the edge of the local park. Diane followed her and sat down.
“My mother gave that demon of a man money! How could she do that?”
“She loved you, despite it all.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“I guess she was really scared you might go back to him.”
“I thought she knew me better than that.”
“No offense, but you made a lot of promises over the years, and you didn’t keep many of them.”
She sighed. “I’ve never been sober this long. I’ve never been in a program or taken it seriously. When will I ever get credit for changing my life?”
“People don’t really change,” Josie said, offhandedly.
“I hope you don’t believe that, Josie. Otherwise, the whole world is pointless.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“We’re put here on this earth to grow and learn. To help each other. To live abundant, fulfilling lives. Nobody can do that without changing. We all have challenges. Some people overcome theirs, but they don’t do that without changing.”
“When did you become so philosophical?” Josie asked, a hint of a smile on her face.
“The program changed my life, and it continues to change my life every day. I wake up each morning thankful that I’m sober and that I have another chance at life. Most of my former drinking buddies didn’t live to get another chance, but God blessed me with this redemption. I’m not blowing it for Dan, for you, or anyone. I love my sobriety more than I love myself.”
“I’m sorry I accused you. I just thought...”
“That people can’t change? Well, they can, and I did.”
Josie nodded. “I believe you.”
“You do?” Diane asked, her eyes filling with tears again.
“I do. I don’t fully trust you, but I can see that you’ve changed. I just don’t know how long it’ll last.”
“Neither do I. No addict knows. I hope it lasts forever, but I have to choose sobriety every moment of every day.”
“That’s scary.”
With hope in her heart, Diane reached over and took her daughter’s hand. “I never want to drink again. I don’t crave it or desire that lifestyle anymore. But any addict will tell you that getting cocky and saying you’ll never do this or that again is a sure way to a relapse. I have to be on alert each day for the rest of my life.”
Josie nodded, and they sat quietly for a while, hands still clasped. These tender mother-daughter moments had happened so few times in her life that she wanted to preserve every second.
“What am I going to do about the restaurant?” Josie finally asked, softly.
Diane sucked in a breath and blew it out. “I don’t know yet, but can we do it together? Can you just try to count on me?”
