Page 6 of Sin With Me
“Nah. My brother usually picks me up if I’m out drinkin’, but tonight I stayed in. Just me and Mr. Jack Daniel’s.”
“Are you havin’ thoughts about harmin’ yourself?”
“Not anymore. That’s why I’m drinkin’, Delly. When I get close to passin’ out, it numbs the sadness and thoughts. Can’t be depressed if I’m drunk.”
“So you traded in one vice for another.”
“Alcohol has longer lastin’ effects, too. You should be happy about that. Less blood,” I muse.
“I’m happy you’re safe at home but not that you’re usin’ alcohol as a copin’ mechanism. There are many ways that being an alcoholic can lead to other issues.”
“What other option do I have?”
“Therapy. Medication. Journaling. Support groups. Church. Praying.”
“Yeah, I’m not doin’ any of that,” I scoff, looking up at my ceiling and realizing my bedroom is spinning.
“Why? Think it makes you weak or less of a man for needin’ help?” she challenges.
Instead of responding, I hang up the phone and chuck it across my room.
“Hello, you reached the Haven Grace prayer crisis hotline. How can I assist you in prayer today?”
“Delly?” I ask pitifully like a dog with its tail between his legs.
“Hi, Luke.”
Her soft voice instantly relaxes my shoulders, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“I’m so sorry for the other night. I feel like a jackass for callin’ you when I was drunk like that.”
“No need to apologize. That’s why I’m here.”
“Don’t do that. You didn’t deserve my drunken rambles or me makin’ you worry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, and I’m sorry for callin’ when I was in that condition.”
“You needed to talk to someone, and I was happy to be that person, even if youdidhang up on me.”
The line stays silent, several seconds pass, and then minutes—and she doesn’t rush me—before I finally speak up.
“I’m a coward.”
“What?”
“I’m a coward,” I repeat louder. “That’s why I don’t do those things you suggested.”
“You can change that, ya know? Even if it’s just baby steps. Callin’ here was a good first step. You’ve shared a lot with me already. Maybe your next step could be seein’ a professional?”
“It’s easy to talk to you because you can’t see me and have no idea who I am. I don’t think I could face someone in person and tell ’em all the ways I’ve fucked up in life. I don’t have to see the look of shame and pity on your probably beautiful face.”
“Probably beautiful? Are you seriously hittin’ on me?”
I gulp. Most girls melt into a puddle when I say sweet bullshit to them.
“Just payin’ you a compliment. Based on the sound of your beautiful voice, I imagine the rest of you is, too.”
She doesn’t respond for several seconds.
“Well…as nice as that is, this ain’t a datin’ phone service, Luke.”
