Page 38 of Giving Chase

CHASE: I'll be there. Strictly professional from now on, right? Isn't that what you've always wanted?

I don't respond. Can't respond. Instead, I let the tears fall freely, mourning for what feels like the end of something beautiful, even if it never fully belonged to me.

Tomorrow, I'll put on my professional face. I'll break the news to the band, weather their reactions, start the process of handing over the reins. I'll step into my new role with confidence and determination.

But tonight, I allow myself to grieve for the chapter of my life that's closing. For the relationship with Chase that, despite our best efforts to keep it professional, was always so much more.

And as I fall into a fitful sleep, Chase's words echo in my mind:"Strictly professional."If only it were that simple. If only it ever had been.

The Dam

CHASE

The ticking of Dr. Hendricks'antique clock seems louder than usual today. I've been staring at it for the past five minutes, watching the second hand make its relentless journey, anything to avoid the question hanging in the air.

"Chase," Dr. Hendricks' voice is gentle but firm, "you mentioned that you've been feeling tempted lately. Can you elaborate on that?"

I drag my gaze away from the clock, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "It's not... I haven't..." I take a deep breath, start again. "I haven't slipped. But God, I've wanted to."

Dr. Hendricks nods, encouraging me to continue.

"It's all this Hall of Fame stuff," I say, the words tumbling out now. "Seeing Eliza again, rehearsing the old songs... it's bringing up a lot of memories. Good ones, sure, but the bad ones too. The ones I used to drink to forget."

"And how are you handling those memories now, without the alcohol?"

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Not great, doc. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

He doesn't rise to my sarcasm. Instead, he asks, "Have you been using any of the coping mechanisms we've discussed?"

I shift uncomfortably. "Some. The breathing exercises help a bit. But it's hard to step away and do that in the middle of a rehearsal, you know?"

"What about reaching out to your support system? Friends, family?"

I wince. "You know I'm not great at that, doc. It feels... I don't know, weak somehow. Like I should be able to handle this on my own by now."

Dr. Hendricks leans forward slightly. "Chase, recovery isn't about doing it alone. It's about learning to lean on others when you need to. That's strength, not weakness."

I nod, not entirely convinced but not willing to argue the point.

"Let's talk about the letter to Eliza," Dr. Hendricks changes tack. "Have you made any progress on that?"

Another wince. "Not really. I've started it a dozen times, but... how do you apologize for years of hurt in a single letter?"

"Perhaps the letter isn't meant to encompass everything. It could be a starting point, an opening for a deeper conversation."

I consider this. "Maybe. But then there's the acceptance speech too. I'm supposed to sum up our entire career, our entire journey, in what? Five minutes?"

"It sounds like you're feeling overwhelmed," Dr. Hendricks observes. "Like you're trying to solve everything at once."

"Yeah," I admit. "I guess I am."

"Let's break this down," he suggests. "First, your recovery. What specific moments or memories have been triggering the urge to drink?"

I close my eyes, thinking. "There's this one part inBurning Bridges- we were rehearsing it the other day. I wrote it when Iwas at a real, just before one of my rehabs. Hearing it now... it's like I can taste the whiskey on my tongue again."

Dr. Hendricks nods. "And how did you handle that moment?"

"I pushed through," I say. "Finished the song. But afterwards, I had to step outside, just... breathe for a while."

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