Page 15 of Madness

10

HELP

DAKOTA

The fluorescent lights of the diner feel harsh after the dim glow of the streetlamps. Lauren slides into a booth, and I follow, trying to ignore the tremor in my hands. I'm sober, but the cravings are still there, lurking beneath the surface.

A tired-looking waitress approaches, and Lauren orders coffee for both of us. As the waitress walks away, an awkward silence settles over us.

"So," Lauren says finally, her fingers nervously tracing the tattoo on her wrist. "You wanted to talk."

I nod, suddenly unsure where to start. "Yeah, I... Thanks for agreeing to this. I know it's late, and you probably want to get home to Roman."

She gives me a small smile. "It's okay. He's with my cousin. But yeah, let's talk."

I take a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize again for not coming in earlier. And for showing up at your car like that. It wasn't... I wasn't thinking straight."

Lauren nods, her expression guarded. "You said you almost did something you'd regret. Do you want to talk about that?"

The waitress returns with our coffees, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts. As she walks away, I wrap my hands around the warm mug, anchoring myself.

"I almost drank last night," I admit quietly. "Went as far as buying a bottle. But I couldn't do it. I've worked too hard to throw it all away."

Lauren's eyes soften slightly. She leans forward, her elbows on the table, coffee mug cradled between her hands. The steam rises, momentarily obscuring her face. "That must have been difficult. How long have you been sober?"

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the grease and grime from the day. A reminder of how close I came to falling apart completely. "Three years," I say, my voice rough. I clear my throat. "Well, until a couple nights ago. I slipped up, but I'm trying to get back on track."

She nods, and I can see her processing this information. Her fingers tap a rhythmless beat on the side of her mug. A nervous habit, maybe. "Can I ask... what made you want to drink?"

I laugh humorlessly, the sound harsh in the quiet diner. A few booths over, an elderly couple looks our way. I lower my voice. "What didn't? The third anniversary of my wife's death, the pressure of the band, the constant temptation..." I gesture vaguely with my hand, nearly knocking over the sugar dispenser. Lauren catches it deftly. Our fingers brush, and I feel a jolt of... something. Connection? Electricity? I pull back quickly. "Sometimes it feels like everything's pushing me towards it."

Lauren looks thoughtful for a moment, then says, "You know, it's been three years for me too."

I raise an eyebrow, surprised by the coincidence. "Three years since...?"

Lauren takes a deep breath, her fingers tightening around her coffee mug. "Since Miles, Roman's father, died while I was pregnant. It was an overdose."

The weight of her words hangs between us. I feel a strange mix of connection and unease. My stomach tightens, a chill running down my spine despite the warmth of the diner. The coincidence is too stark, too precise. Three years ago. An overdose. Just like Chloe. It's as if the universe is playing some cruel joke.

"I'm so sorry, Lauren," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "That must have been incredibly difficult."

She nods, her eyes distant. "It was. Still is, sometimes, especially for Roman. He wasn't even born yet. He never knew his dad at all. And vice versa."

I swallow hard, trying to push down the growing sense of disquiet. "And Chloe... my wife," I say softly, the words feeling heavy on my tongue, "she overdosed too."

Lauren's eyes meet mine, a flash of understanding passing between us. But beneath that, I see a flicker of something else. Confusion? Suspicion? It's gone before I can place it.

"It's a strange coincidence, isn't it?" she says, her voice carefully neutral. "Both of us losing someone that way, at the same time."

I nod, unsure what to say. The parallels in our stories are striking, but there's something about it that nags at me, a piece that doesn't quite fit. A shadow of doubt creeps into my mind, but I push it aside, not ready to face whatever it might mean.

"I guess we both know something about grief then, too, huh?" I say, trying to lighten the mood slightly.

Lauren gives me a small smile. "Yeah, I guess we do. It's not exactly the kind of common ground you hope for when getting to know someone."

"No," I agree, "but maybe it helps us understand each other a little better."

She nods, and I can see her relaxing slightly. "Maybe it does. And look, you resisted the temptation last night. That’s positive."

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