Page 119 of Fake Love

What am I doing childish? Absolutely.

I shouldn’t be pissed that my mom has decided not to open up her skull to test a tumor. I shouldn’t be pissed at all but I am.

I’m pissed not because my mom made the choice but because my chances of losing her just got higher. They got higher and she doesn’t want to do the test that could possibly let doctors save her.

What if the doctors get in there to remove the other tumors to only find that this tumor is inoperable? What if this tumor causes more damage?

So many what ifs and I can’t handle any of them.

That’s why I’m drowning myself in alcohol because when life decides to throw rocks at me, I sink instead of being able to sail through.

Grabbing the whiskey bottle in front of me and bring it up to take a drink only to realize that it’s completely empty.

I guess it’s time for a new one.

After grabbing a new one, I must have dozed off because one minute I’m sitting in this room by myself and the next Dante is here with me.

“I’m sorry.” I say to him, not knowing how else to start.

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” he asks as he sits across from me.

I lean my head back on the chair I’m sitting in and look at the man.

“You helped me get clean yet I went out to find a hit the second shit got a little tough.”

Like I said before, I’m acting like a child.

Dante nods. “But you didn’t take it.”

“Because you interfered.”

“That wouldn’t have stopped anyone that needed something so badly. They would have gone to find someone that would have given them what they wanted. They wouldn’t have stopped but you did.”

He’s right.

The second that the dealer walked away from are agreement, I could have gone and found someone else that would have said yes.

Instead I turned to alcohol.

“Have you gone to any meetings since getting out of rehab?” Dante asks, getting me out of my head.

I shake my head. “Haven’t had the need to.”

“Have you had thoughts about using? Besides today?”

I could lie, I could tell him that I haven’t but knowing who this man is and what he does, he might see right through it.

“A few thoughts here and there.” I say, taking a drink from the bottle I opened earlier.

Dante doesn’t say anything, the man just looks at me as if he’s trying to figure me out.

Eventually he speaks. “And when you had those thoughts you didn’t think that you should talk to someone?”

“I was able to handle them.”

Somewhat at least.

I was close to doing what I did today after the street festival.

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