Page 155 of Taste of Addiction

“And what is that?” I ask, leaning toward the front seat so I can hear.

“Your love.”

“Oh my,” Nic says, looking at his brother like he just grew a second head. “When did you get this cheesy?”

“Yeah, I have to admit, that comment was pretty cheese infested,” Claire says with a laugh.

“At least I got you to smile, though, right?” he responds, looking at her in the mirror. “No more tears, okay? We are excited to have you with us. So, cheer up before my mom sees you and gets you drunk on her cranberry juleps.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I mutter to myself.

I’ve gotten my drug addiction under control, and the doctor said I can incorporate responsible drinking back into my lifestyle. Avoidance was my actual coping mechanism—not the actual alcohol. In just a short amount of time, I have learned about my triggers and methods to safely cope with what has happened in my past. It has been very enlightening to witness my evolvement from unhealthy to healthy thoughts just by writing in my journal. However, I am very much a work in progress.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Graham warns, “you’re not allowed to get drunk with my mom.”

“And why not?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “That sounds like fun.”

“Because when Mama gets drunk, out come the family albums, DVDs, and secrets.”

I wink. “Oh, then I’m definitely getting toasted.”

“Do it and see what happens.”

“Ew. Stop,” Claire announces, covering her ears dramatically with the palms of her hands. “Make it stop.”

“We are here,” I say with a clap to my hands, watching out the window with anticipation as the house comes into view.

Donna and Germain’s home is decorated to look like a scene fresh out of a home magazine. Thousands of lights stretch over the roof, windows, and landscaping. It had to have taken days to achieve this masterpiece. I open my door and slide out, standing in awe at the view before my eyes.

My trance is interrupted by a joyful Donna bursting out of the house in a pair of red and white slippers. She hurries to greet me in a warm hug, telling me and the others how thankful she is that we are here.

“Penny just arrived about five minutes ago from Seattle. This is perfect timing. Oh, you must be Claire,” she says, wrapping her arms around Claire’s frail form.

I hate how delicate her emotions are right now. I want her to have the best holiday with us. She deserves it.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Hoffman.”

“Oh no,” Donna says, pulling back, “you call me by my first name or we will turn this into a fun drinking game for every time you mess up.”

Claire looks at her with confusion and then bursts into a fit of giggles. “I like you already.”

“Mom, have you been pregaming it?” Nic asks, embracing her into a hug.

“It keeps me young.”

“That’s not a thing, Ma,” Graham says, joining up with the group.

“It most certainly is,” she scoffs. “And after all the stress you boys have caused me recently, putting your lives in danger, I hope you have settled into a lessexcitinglifestyle.”

“I’m ready to be boring,” Graham jokes.

“I’ve always been boring,” Nic chimes in, only making his mom smack his arm over his casual behavior.

I know they both are thankful to have the whole thing over with and are just trying to keep the mood light right now, as we all mentally recover from the trauma.

The men unload the truck with all of the bags and wrapped gifts, while us women meander outside looking at all of the lights.

“This looks spectacular, Donna,” I say.

---