Page 119 of Forgiving Fate

Chapter Forty-Three

Landon

“I mean it, Landon.Do not forget that you can call anytime. Remember what we talked about? Asking for help is nothing to feel ashamed about.”

“I know. I will keep you updated, but if I don’t talk to you before then, I will see you next week for our session,” I say to Dr. AJ as he walks me out of the rehab center.

“Bye Landon.”

“Thank you for everything,” I say, reaching out to shake his head.

He flashes me a smile and returns the gesture. “Of course.”

Turning around, I see Dad waiting in his truck at the curb.

I pause for a moment and mentally prepare myself. I knew the moment that Wes told me he was sending Dad and not himself or one of my brothers to come get me, it was going to be a long, emotional drive back to Cliff Haven.

I can do this. He deserves answers, I load my suitcase in the back and hop into the truck.

“Hi son. Good to see you.”

Leaning over the center console, I wrap my arm around his back and hug him. “You too Dad.”

He pats my back, and we set off towards the long highway home.

The past six months have been the longest, hardest, and most rewarding months of my life. The day I finally decided to ask for help was the second worst day of my life. The first being the day I watched the other half of my damaged soul try to leave this earth.

The journey to sobriety is different for everyone. It seems impossible some days, but the moment you look yourself in the mirror and say you will no longer let a liquid ruin your life and truly mean it is the day you can finally start becoming the new you. One that is not ruled by the voices in your head begging for a drink to shut them up.

“You know I am never one to beat around the bush or let things go. So why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what led you to end up here?” He stops at a stop sign and looks to me, his gaze unwavering as he says, “And don’t even think about leaving anything out about Miss Allison.”

Taking a deep breath, I sink into the seat. “It started because of a bad mission. I couldn’t sleep for days and a bottle of whiskey seemed to be the only thing that would silence the voices in my head that were telling me I failed. I didn’t mean for it to be a consistent thing, but I kept failing one after another and the alcohol was easier than asking for help for something I was messing up. Before I knew it, months led into years and the easiest way became my normal and it was almost like I forgot that it was anything other than water. I was always aware I had a problem, but it wasn’t until Allie and I became friends that I knew I had lost control of my mind and body. ”

“Son. I–”

“I know Dad. I know now that I should have asked for help. I know that now and I am so sorry for the day I scared you and Mom. I will never forget the look in your eyes or the way I treated both of you that day. It should have been my wake up call and I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

Dad’s shoulders rise, and he clears his throat as he pulls into a rest stop.

He turns in his seat and when his glassy eyes meet mine, my chest aches.

“Son. I want you to listen and not interrupt. Got it?”

I nod.

“I am sorry for not telling you this sooner. I should have seen the signs and there is no excuse. You did well at hiding them, but I should have known since I was once in your shoes.”

What did he just say?I stare at him, in complete shock.

“Yes. It is what you are thinking. I was an alcoholic for about two years. You boys were young and never would have known because, like you, I was great at hiding it. There was no event that led to mine. I just didn’t know how to process emotions that stemmed deeper than what men are supposed to feel. I never understood that men are allowed to cry or feel something other than anger or happiness until I met your mother. Throughout my entire life and at the beginning of our marriage, I never understood how to properly convey my emotions, so drinking became my way to escape them.

“If it wasn’t for your mother giving me a swift kick in the ass and setting me up with a therapist that helped me understand that mental health struggles don’t make you any less than I wouldn’t be here with you today. So I am sorry, son, for not seeing the signs and kicking your ass like your mom did mine. I hope you now see that asking for help and coping with your emotions is better than the bottom of a bottle. But just know I am proud of you. I have never been more proud of you thanthe moment you stepped foot into that rehab center. That alone was a strength that many do not have and now you are sitting here sober, with tools that will help you for the rest of your long, happy life.” His voice cracks as the last words leave him and together we swipe at the tears falling down our faces.

Never in my life would I have expected my father to be someone I could relate to on a level that only ones that have been through it would understand. Although it hurts like hell to think he was in a similar place of pain and hurt like me, it’s nice to know that once we are back home, I will have someone to run to that will understand me on my bad days that I know are bound to happen.

“Thank you Dad. You have nothing to apologize for, but I appreciate you telling me. It makes this all not feel so…lonely.”

“You were never alone, and we were never disappointed in you. You will only ever disappoint us if you deny yourself the right to get help because you feel too broken. You have a family that loves you and if I am right, you have a girl that walked alongside through hell with you, waiting for you to let her be your light.”

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