New Winslow S8E57
Noah broke about twenty-four hours after Andrew left New Winslow again. Another night of waiting for his father in the cemetery, knowing he wasn’t coming and knowing it was Noah’s fault, and he’d finally snapped. And now, three days later, he still hadn’t bothered to stop drinking. And he hadn’t called Andrew either.
Noah knew on some level that he was reaching a point of no return. Going to see Andrew had helped, and so had Andrew coming to the meeting. But now Noah had too much time on his hands. And it hadn’t been that long since the night at the bar, so it had been a lot easier to buy a handle of whiskey after work the way he’d tried so hard not to until now. Something to just shut out the spirits he now also heard, their voices so low they were almost on the edge of his hearing. While the only one he’d like to hear from was silent.
This was no longer a relapse, at least he was pretty sure. A bender, maybe? He wasn’t positive, but it didn’t matter. He’d been drinking pretty steadily for two or three days now, sobering up just long enough to get through a work shift before getting home and going straight up to his apartment, doing his best to either avoid Liv entirely or get out of conversations quickly. He’d wake up in the morning, shake off the cemetery dirt, take a shot, then gargle peppermint mouthwash before starting yet another endless day.
Today was one of those days. So of course Liv and Mia were outside in the front yard as he pulled in after work, where he’d spent all day dodging Charlie and his concern. Noah parked the truck and got out, trying to come up with an effective lie to get past them without a fight.
Liv looked cautious as he came over, but Mia continued to babble loudly, pretending to read her book as she grinned up at Noah.
“Owa!”
“How are you?” Liv asked as Mia went back to her book.
He swallowed down the defensive reply. He knew he looked like shit. He felt like shit and he just wanted to be alone. But his not-quite-lie about a headache was interrupted by Mia tugging on his pant leg. Noah looked down, doing his best to stay patient.
“Mama!”
She jabbed a finger at the illustration in her book, a family of rabbits snug in a burrow. Her fingers touched the mother rabbit, then slid to the baby. “Mia!”
“Good, that’s good, sweetie,” Noah said, moving to get past her.
She pointed to the last bunny. “Owa.”
Noah froze. The father bunny was nestled against the baby, safe and secure in their little burrow. Trembling suddenly, he accidentally looked at Liv, whose eyes were bright. Noah kissed Mia gently on the top of her head and hurried up the stairs without a word, barely letting the door close before falling onto his couch. The bottle of whiskey was half full on the side table and he took a shot, then sat silently, still shaking. Then he texted Liv before he could lose his nerve.
NOAH
Can you come up when mia goes to bed?
He took another shot of whiskey, promising himself it was his last. Then he took another.
——
Liv was upstairs twenty minutes later. Noah was already a little hazy by this point, but not hammered yet, though he knew it was coming. But as he opened the door, he could tell she knew immediately.
“Let’s take a drive,” she said.
“But Mia-”
“She’s coming with us. I’ll go to jail if she doesn’t. Think, Noah.”
He laughed and couldn’t believe he’d laughed. Most of him wanted to slam the door and lock it, but he was going to fight against that instinct instead. He needed to talk to her.
“Get your jacket,” she said, moving toward the leather jacket crumpled on the floor beside the coffee table, where the handle of whiskey was sitting right on display. “It’s cooling off out there.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m glad you texted me. But let’s take a drive. We don’t have to go anywhere in particular.”
“I’m drunk,” he admitted. “I need help.”
Liv was already crouched down to get his jacket. “I know,” she said as she stood up and held it out to him. “So let’s figure out what we’re going to do.”
He took the jacket and put it on with shaky, uncoordinated hands before following Olivia down the stairs. She went through her open apartment door to scoop up Mia, who was already in pajamas.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said, his heart dropping as he saw the little Lion King jammie set Mia wore. “No, she’s ready for bed, you don’t have to-”
“Mia, want to take a ride in the car?”
Mia clapped her hands in glee and Liv turned to Noah. “Come on.”
They drove without talking for a little while, passing easily through the town boundary as quiet music crackled on the radio. Liv drove, humming softly along, while Noah watched the trees go by. His head was already spinning, so this should have made him more nauseous. But he lost himself in the dizzying flight of green leaves in the early evening sunlight, only coming back as Liv’s hand slid into his. He realized he had no idea how much time had passed.
“Let’s pull over up here and talk for a bit.”
Noah glanced into the backseat, where Mia was sound asleep, her stuffed white bunny dangling from her hand. Liv pulled over a moment later, parking at the top of a scenic lookout. They were higher up than Noah had anticipated and he could see for miles in front of them. The leaves were bright and beautiful on the trees below them, the Quabbin Reservoir snaking through the hills. There were islands out in the water and the thought rose so clearly through his muffled mind that those used to be mountains.
Back when Billy McBride and Samuel Alderidge were just children, just ordinary kids, those had been mountains.
Liv shut off the car and got out, leaving the back door open so she could see Mia. Noah hesitated for a second, but it was time. So he got out and haltingly followed her to the little stone wall a couple feet from the car that marked the sloping drop-off into the trees.
They sat in silence for a moment. It was shockingly not terrible, but maybe it was because it was Liv. “Have you thought about trying some other treatment options?” she asked finally.
He looked over at her. She looked hesitant, like she was worried he was going to get mad, even after he was the one that asked for help. And part of him did. He wanted to tell her it was none of her fucking business, that he was already in treatment. He’d finished rehab, moved down to one therapy session every two weeks but still went, and went to meetings nearly every day. He was putting in the work.
But he was also drunk. So Noah had to admit it was time to shut up and listen.
“There’s a lot of other options, I’m not saying you should go back to inpatient unless you think you need it,” Olivia continued. “And if you do, then I one hundred percent support it. But maybe you should talk to someone about some outpatient options too. Or I was looking at support groups earlier. AA is great, but maybe there’s something else that’ll fit your needs better. And there’s other types… I mean there’s treatment options that include other, um, mental health issues as well.”
“You were researching?” God, why did he have to sound so bitter when he said it?
She shrugged, looking out over the water. “Of course.”
And now he felt like a bigger asshole. “I don’t know,” he said, playing absently with a broken off piece of stone on the wall beside him.
“You need something,” Olivia said, her voice firmer now. “More than me or Cleo or Andrew can do. We’re all happy to do it, we’re all here for you. But Noah, I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting really… I’m just worried.”
Again, that old impulse to either tell her he was fine and to shut up reared its head. If he did that, they’d be back in a familiar pattern. A bad pattern, where either she’d stop talking to him again or he’d have to shove everything down until he eventually broke and killed himself.
Shit, that was what she was talking about when she said other mental health issues, wasn’t it? “What should I do?” he asked.
“Talk to someone,” Liv said, less hesitant now that she knew Noah wasn’t going to get belligerent and storm off into the woods. “Talk to your therapist. Maybe call someone at Central Mass and see if they have a dual diagnosis program there.”
The words “dual diagnosis” made him nauseous in a way he knew meant it was likely what he needed. “I don’t want to go back to rehab,” Noah said, his throat tight.
“I know,” Olivia said. “But what you’re doing isn’t working anymore.”
He nodded, wiping at his eyes while she pretended not to notice. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “It’s been a really, really rough couple years and you’ve come such a long way. I want you to be able to keep going, you know?”
He nodded, looking out at the water. A seagull flew nearby. They were just far enough away from the reservoir that it might have been lost and, for a second, Noah had the wild thought of maybe bringing the seagull back to the water. Or maybe all the way to the ocean, where it truly belonged. Liv said something and he realized he’d missed it.
“What?”
“I said I’m planning spaghetti tonight. Want to join?”
“Um, yeah, thanks.”
She tugged him against her and he let himself fall, managing to brace himself just enough to keep from toppling them both over. “I mean it,” she said. “I’m here.”
“I need to call Andrew.”
“It’ll be okay,” Liv said. “I’ll start dinner and you give him a call. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
He’d said the same thing to Cleo when Edie broke up with her, hadn’t he? And it hadn’t been a big deal for him, just something that you say to someone you love and care for. If he tried to talk now, he’d just start crying. So instead, he just looked out over the water, finding those islands that had been mountains once.
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