Page 60 of Dreaming of Dawson

“The what?”

I ignored his interruption because I knew he’d heard me. The shock in his voice gave that away, and he still didn’t know the worst. “By lunchtime, I’d switch to vodka. Neat. It looks likewater, so I knew no-one would guess, although sometimes I used to add tonic, if I couldn’t sneak any vodka into my glass… because I knew someone like you might have been watching.”

“And you didn’t think that someone like me could have helped you?” he said, sounding angry. “You didn’t think of coming to me, instead of turning to the bottle in the first place?”

“Why do you think I’m having this conversation over the phone, and not face-to-face? It’s hard to admit what I was doing, even to you. And I didn’t feel I could trouble you with my problems when you were going through the same things with Sabrina – only worse – and yet handling it so much better.”

“You think?” he said. “I wasn’t handling it very well at all… not at the beginning. And besides, it’s not a contest in dealing with break-ups.”

“I guess.”

He let out a long sigh, and I imagined him shaking his head. “You’re talking in the past tense, like this is something you used to do. Does that, and the fact that we’re having this conversation, mean you’ve stopped?”

“Yeah, it does, although stopping isn’t as easy as I thought it might be. Today is my first day of sobriety, and to be honest, my head hurts, my stomach feels really weird, and the surface of my tongue feels like sand.”

“I think that’s called withdrawal.”

“I don’t care what it’s called. It sucks.”

“You’ll stick with it, though, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, and I half expected him to threaten me with something hideous if I didn’t. After a brief pause, he surprised me by saying, “So, what’s changed?”

“Nothing’s changed.”

“Really? You’ve just given up drinking and put yourself through the torture of withdrawal for no reason?”

“I wouldn’t call it torture. It’s—”

“Stick to the topic, Dawson. Why are you doing this?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Yes. If it’s gonna work. Yes, you do. You need a purpose, a goal… something to focus on when the need to reach for the bottle gets too much.”

“You don’t think waking up to myself is enough?”

“It is, butwhyhave you woken up to yourself all of a sudden?” he said, and then the line went quiet before he murmured. “Oh… have you met someone?”

I pushed my cup away, wondering how he’d worked it out, although I wasn’t going to admit to anything. Not yet. “What on earth would make you think that?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I was just wondering. But if you say you haven’t, then…”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you have?”

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to work it out.”

“With her, or with yourself?”

“Mostly with her.”

“Okay,” he said. “What’s holding you back as far as you’re concerned? Is it your trust issues?”

I shook my head, a smile touching at my lips for the first time in ages. It was an odd sensation, but I liked it, and I sat forward. “Do you know, I haven’t even thought about trust.”

---