Starting Over (Treading Water Trilogy)

Published by Marie Force

Copyright 2011. Marie Force.

Cover by Kristina Brinton

This
ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
ebook
may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].

All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

www.mariesullivanforce.com

For the millions of people facing recovery one day at a time:

You have my respect and admiration.

Author’s Note

This is another book I didn’t plan to write. When I began work on
Marking Time
, I had no idea I’d meet yet another character whose story would need to be told. When I was looking for a name for Clare’s love interest in
Marking Time
, my friend Julie and I batted around a bunch of options. Travis was one of them (we ended up using that in
True North
). When we settled on Aidan O’Malley, I decided to give him a big, boisterous Irish family full of the joys, trials and tribulations that go with it. When we met Aidan’s brother Brandon in
Marking Time
, he was in the process of hitting rock bottom in his struggle with alcohol. His story needed to be told, and thus,
Starting Over
was born.

During the writing of this book, I attended an Alcoholic’s Anonymous meeting that ranks among the most powerful experiences of my life. I read
The Big Book
from cover to cover, and immersed myself in all things AA and Al-Anon. And while Brandon’s alcoholism is a central theme in this book, it’s not the prevailing theme. I like to think this book is about love—the sustaining love of a family, the love between a man and a woman and the love of a man for a little girl who quite literally saves his life. I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter 1, Day 1

Brandon O’Malley lay on the narrow bed, counting the cinderblocks that made up the sterile room. Ten up and twenty across, painted a boring, flat shade of tan. In addition to the bed, he had a beat-up dresser and a tiny bathroom adjoining the room. A small window overlooked the parking lot of the Laurel Lake Treatment Center, home sweet home for the next thirty days.

When his brother Colin brought him here two hours earlier, Brandon commented that the place looked more like a country club than a dry-out facility.

“It’s not a country club,” Colin had snapped. “The place costs a fortune, so don’t forget why you’re here.”

Leave it to oh-so-perfect Colin to cut him down to size. He was sick to death of all three of his brothers and the way they talked down to him just because he liked to get loaded every now and then. Brandon touched the bridge of his nose, tender since his older brother Aidan’s fist connected with it the night before.

To hell with them
, he thought as a vicious burst of pain from his battered face stole the breath from his lungs.
They don’t understand me. None of them ever has
.

Brandon checked his watch. After the most thorough physical of his life, he’d been brought to this boring room and told someone would come to see him in half an hour. That was forty-five minutes ago.

What I really want is a beer and a shot of whiskey
. Brandon broke out in a cold sweat when he realized that wasn’t going to happen. Suddenly, the ten-by-twenty room felt like a cell, and he wanted out of there. He sat up too quickly. The room spun, and the meager contents of his stomach churned. Bolting for the bathroom, he vomited and was splashing cold water on his face when he heard a knock at the door.

Still holding a towel, he opened the door to a balding man of average height and build.

“Yeah?” Brandon grunted.

“Hi, I’m Alan. May I come in?”

Brandon shrugged and stepped aside.

“Do you have everything you need?” Alan asked with a smile on his round, friendly face. He wore a starched light blue dress shirt and pressed khakis.

Brandon gave him a withering look.

“Towels, sheets, that stuff,” Alan clarified.

“I guess.”

“Well, just let us know if you need anything.”

“Do you work here?”

“I volunteer on Fridays.”

“My lucky day.”

“It sure is.” Alan sat on Brandon’s bed. “In fact, one day you may look back and realize this was the luckiest day of your life.”

“Yeah,
right
,” Brandon snorted, pressing a hand to his throbbing face in a desperate attempt to find some relief from the pain.

“What happened to your face?”

“My brother punched me.”

“Why?”

“He says I hassled his girlfriend.”

“Did you?”

Brandon shrugged.

“You don’t remember?” When Brandon didn’t answer, Alan pressed on. “Why are you here?”

“My brother said it was either this or his girlfriend would press charges against me. Nice, huh?”

“It was nice of him to give you a choice.”

“I can see whose side you’re on.”

“Actually, I’m on your side, Brandon. I was once right where you are today. I’m an alcoholic.”

“Whoa, man! I’m not an alcoholic. I just like to have a few beers after work. I don’t know why everyone thinks that’s such a big deal.”

“Have you had blackouts before last night?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

Brandon looked away from him.

“How old are you, Brandon?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Ever been married?”

“No.”

“You mentioned a brother. Do you have other siblings?”

“Three brothers and a sister.”

“You’re lucky to have such a nice big family.”

“Yeah, well, they’ve kind of let me down today.”

“Do you really think so?”

Brandon shrugged.

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m an engineer. My family owns a construction business.”

“That’s impressive. Has your drinking caused you problems at work?”

“No,” Brandon said as his patience ran out. “What’s with the twenty questions?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you. I’d like to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Perhaps not, but I need yours.”

“What could I possibly do for you?”

“Part of my recovery involves helping others who’re struggling with alcohol. Would you help me by listening to my story?”

Brandon sat on the floor. “Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

“Fine.” Brandon’s stomach lurched again. “Have at it.”

“I started drinking when I was thirteen,” Alan said. “I fell into a group of rich kids who had easy access to booze. We always had the good stuff—vodka, gin,
rum
. I couldn’t say no to any of it, but I had a particular fondness for vodka. I drank every day of high school, college, and law school. No one ever called me on it, so I thought I was getting away with it. I got married a month after I graduated from law school, and it didn’t take my new wife long to realize I was drinking all the time. If I wasn’t at work, I was drunk. She hadn’t signed on for that, so she left me two months after the wedding. I found out much later that she was pregnant when she left. I have a fifteen-year-old son I’ve never met. You see, by the time I finally hit rock bottom and admitted I was an alcoholic, I’d lost my job, I was broke, my ex-wife was remarried, and another man was raising my son.”

Despite his best intentions to stay detached, Brandon was moved by Alan’s story. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. I go to my son’s football games just so I can watch him for a few hours. Lucky for him, he looks like his mother, and I can tell just by watching him that he’s popular with his friends. He thinks his stepfather is his real father, and since I’d never do anything to mess up his life, I have to be satisfied with a few glimpses every now and then.”

“That must be really hard.”

“It is, but I’ve managed to find a good life for myself. I’m married again, and I have two little girls who are the joy of my life. I’ve been sober for twelve years, five months, and thirteen days.”

“You count the days?” Brandon asked, incredulous.

“Every sober day is a victory to be celebrated.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry about everything that happened to you, but I don’t see how it applies to me.”

Alan stood to leave. “You will, Brandon. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day soon you will.” He took a card out of his wallet and put it on the bed. “If you ever want to talk, feel free to call me any time. You’re going to discover an enormous network of people who want to help. If you don’t want to talk to me, talk to one of them. All you have to do to gain access to all this help is take the most important first step you’ll ever take in your life.”

“What’s that?”

“Admit you need it.” He turned back when he reached the door. “Oh, and you’ll want to remember today’s date.”

“Why?”

“Because
your
new life begins today. Good luck to you, Brandon.”

After Alan left, Brandon got up from the floor and reached for the card he’d left on the bed. Printed on the card
was
only the name Alan and a phone number. Brandon studied the card for a moment and then tossed it into the trash.

Brandon stood in the circle holding hands with the people on either side of him. He fixated on a spider web in the corner of the room while the others recited the Serenity prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

When the twenty or so people took their seats, the group leader, a young guy named Steve, looked around for a volunteer to go first. Brandon kept his eyes down so Steve wouldn’t connect with him.

The room reeked of burnt coffee, and the walls were papered with slogans like “Live and Let Live,” “Easy Does It,” and one Brandon had heard often in the last five days: “One Day at a Time.”

“Danielle?” Steve said. “Would you like to share with the group?”

Danielle blushed to her blonde roots and cast her blue eyes downward. Brandon wondered if she’d been a cheerleader thirty or forty pounds ago.

“Um, my name is Danielle, and I’m an alcoholic and an addict.” She twisted her hands on her lap.

“Hi, Danielle.” The group replied so loudly that they startled Brandon. After five days in bed suffering through detoxification—or the DTs, as it was known here—this was his first time
in group
, and he had no idea what to expect.

“I, um, I’ve been clean and sober for twenty-two days now,” Danielle said to congratulations from the others. “I know that’s not very long, but it’s a lifetime to me. I never thought I could go a day without drinking or getting high, so twenty-two days is a big deal. I’m just hoping I can keep it up when I get out of here. It took me the first two weeks I was here to admit my life had become unmanageable. I’m very much afraid of what’s ahead for me when I get out of here. I’ve hurt so many people.” One of the other women passed a pack of tissues to Danielle. “I’m so ashamed of the things I’ve done…”