Excerpt: Starting Over

If love was a river, we’d all be parched. That’s what I thought to myself as I drove west. It all started when Chuck, my ex-boyfriend, started drinking on Halloween. Now, I’m sure that drinking is not in and of itself a bad thing, especially on Halloween, but for Chuck, drinking is always a bad thing. He is an abusive alcoholic. When he drinks, he gets mean. And I don’t mean the kind of “mean” that just involves a lot of loud shouting . . . I mean the physical kind of “mean.” Now, up until yesterday, this “mean” had never involved me. Chuck never turned mean on me . . . we were lovers.
I met Chuck when I was a sophomore in college and he was a senior. Maybe that was the first sign that we should have stayed away from each other . . . I don’t know. Anyway, it was Halloween then, too. I was dressed up like a really pornographic version of Sleeping Beauty. I mean, everything was covered, but basically nothing else was. That’s how you’re supposed to dress when you go to a college Halloween party. Hell, that’s how you’re supposed to dress when you do to a college anything party.
Anyway, I was dressed as Sleeping Beauty that year. Chuck was Pac Man. I’ll let you figure out how he did that on your own. I didn’t go over to him and say some witty line. I’m not a witty person. Chuck is, however, a witty person. And male. That helps a lot in these kinds of situations. Although, I suppose that really isn’t the reason he was able to sweep me off my feet that night (truth be told, it was probably my drink that was at fault for that). But he did. Two words. “Do me.” It sounds incredibly stupid now. But it worked.
We’ve been together since. That was three years ago. Chuck stayed at the college, being a graduate assistant. When I graduated, we moved to St. Louis, Missouri. We had an apartment in the city, because he was working at the University of Missouri – St. Louis, finishing up the graduate degree he started at Mizzou, and I was working for the city library in St. Louis. Not everything was perfect, but things seemed to be working out. Since we moved away from Columbia, Chuck hadn’t been drinking much. Since most of our problems came from the fact that Chuck was an abusive alcoholic, it seemed like we were on the right track. He was in a program and I was trying to help him through it. Every time he broke and drank, I was there to clean up and get him back on track. Until last night, that is.
So like I said, it was Halloween, last night. Chuck and I went to a small party, thrown by some of our friends from Mizzou, who now lived in St. Louis too. I thought it would be ok for Chuck. He’d been sober for about a month and these weren’t his fraternity brothers. There would be alcohol, but that wouldn’t be the point of the party. Everything was going fine until Kyle showed up.
Kyle Browning was one of Chuck’s fraternity brothers. Kyle was Chuck’s best friend at Mizzou. One of the few men who could drink as much as Chuck without getting sick. Unlike Chuck, however, Kyle was not an abusive alcoholic. He did not get mean or nasty when he got drunk. Now, I liked Kyle just fine. He was a nice guy. But he didn’t understand that Chuck was an abusive alcoholic. He didn’t know about the “no drinking” from the alcoholic classes that Chuck had been going to. I tried to get Chuck to leave the party before he saw Kyle (who was, incidentally, carrying two cases of Michelob Ultra). I was unsuccessful. First, Chuck saw the beer. And when he saw the carrier of the beer, Chuck got that smile . . . that smile that I fell in love with before I realized what it meant . . . and he started walking over to Kyle.
Chuck, I begged, don’t do this. You’re up to a month . . . that’s great! You don’t want to start over because of this. Let’s go home. We can finish the party there.
I’ll be fine, he dismissed easily. It’s Kyle.
Yeah . . . it was Kyle. Probably the only person that I knew who would be able to talk Chuck into doing anything . . . especially when he was loaded with a case of beer.
Chuck! Kyle screamed when Chuck walked over to him, already taking a beer out of one of the cases and handing it to Chuck. Shit! I haven’t seen you in years!
Not since their graduation. Unlike Chuck, Kyle moved back after they graduated. Got a job with Anheiser-Busch. No, I am not kidding. You understand why I was pissed at him for being there now, right?
Chuck, being Chuck, took the beer without thinking about anything but the “great time” he was going to have with Kyle. Looking back, I can be kind of amused at the fact that Kyle, who works for Anheiser-Busch, still drinks Michelob products.
Chuck, don’t do this. You are doing so good in therapy right now. Do not take a drink. Just give me the beer. Hi, Kyle.
Kyle gave me odd look . . . he was trying to place me . . . why I knew who he was. He was probably trying to remember if he had fucked me. I would have laughed, if I wasn’t trying to keep my boyfriend from taking a drink.
She’s Kim, Chuck said, still sober. Sleeping Beauty. From Halloween.
You’re still together! Shit, that’s great! Nice to see you!
Kyle, Chuck can’t drink. He’s in therapy. Please, take your beer back.
Kyle of course, thought I was kidding. Got you on a short leash, doesn’t she?
I’m serious, Kyle! Take your beer back.
Kim, quit embarrassing me in front of my friends, Chuck said to me. He opened the beer.
Chuck, if you take a drink of that beer, I will leave you. I will walk out that door and never see you again. I mean it. I actually didn’t know at the time how serious I was when I said that.
Kyle noticed something in my tone. My fear, probably. He realized I was serious about Chuck having a drinking problem, or a “drinking problem” as I defined it. I don’t think he understood that Chuck had a “serious” drinking problem.
Hey, Chuck. If you need to stay dry, that’s fine. We can party dry.
I do not have a “problem,” he said, making quotation marks around the word “problem.” What’s one beer going to do?
I’m serious, Chuck. If you take even a sip of that beer, I am gone. I will walk out that door, go home, pack my shit, and leave you. Again, I had no idea that I would have done it. I was just trying to stall long enough to get Kyle to help me.
Chuck narrowed his eyes and took a drink. That drink hit me harder than anything he could have done physically to me. The smack of that swallow of beer turned my whole world upside down. At that moment, I realized that I couldn’t change him. I couldn’t help him.
It’s one drink, Kim. I’m fine. Then, he turned around and started talking to Kyle. If Chuck actually knew how to cut himself off after one beer, we would have been fine. Chuck was definitely not a lightweight when it came to beer. The problem was, that Chuck didn’t know when “enough” was. Clearly. He expected me to “get mad” but to be home that night when he came back from the party. Well, I turned around and I left. I didn’t say “goodbye” to Chuck. I just left. I went back to our apartment, and I packed all of my clothes. When I finished that, I packed all of my shower gear. I packed all of my makeup. I packed every single thing that belonged to me, just to me.
Chuck walked in right as I was putting the tape on the last box.
What are you doing?
I’m leaving.
That was when Chuck actually looked confused. He gave me a startled look. What?
I told you if you took a drink, I was leaving. This is what it looks like when I say that I am leaving.
Kim. It was almost a plea. Almost.
I told you, Chuck. I have stood by you for years. I had to take you to the hospital, clean up, do practically everything for you a couple of times. Tonight, all you had to do was say one word for me, say “no.” But you didn’t. I’m gone. We’re done, Chuck. Fix your own damn problem.
Kim! He said, more forcefully this time. He clutched my wrists. There was nothing in the way he grabbed me to make me think that he was sober. I recognized the look on his face . . . and that look was a look that I had seen him give too many times to know that it was anything other than what it was. Chuck was gone. No, he hadn’t drank as much as he had in his college days, but he’s been trying to be sober for a while. It didn’t take as much to get him drunk. And when Chuck gets drunk, Chuck gets violent. Maybe he had never been violent with me before, but I had never given him a reason to be. Now, I was. And there was nothing in our apartment for him to get angry at besides me. So when I say that I was scared when he was standing there, clutching at my wrists, I am not exaggerating. I was terrified.
Let go of me. I said it as bravely as I could.
Chuck? This came from Kyle. Apparently he had followed Chuck. What are you doing?
He’s an abusive alcoholic, I repeated. This is what he does when he’s had too much to drink.
He only had two beers.
He’s been dry for a month. It doesn’t take much anymore.
Chuck, let go of you girlfriend.
Ex-girlfriend, I corrected him. I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Chuck smacked me. Barehanded, back of the hand, one powerful slap across my face. Kyle jumped in and took Chuck down to the ground.
What the hell is your problem, Chuck? He demanded. What are you doing? He asked me.
I’m leaving. It seemed like an obvious answer. Like I said, I had everything packed.
You’re leaving? Kyle asked. Where are you going?
Away from here.
She’s not leaving, Chuck said. He was still disarmed, on the floor, held down by Kyle’s knee in his back. I’m sorry, Kim. I’ll check back in to the rehab center, tomorrow. We can work through this.
Do what you want Chuck. I’ll be gone by this time tomorrow.
Kim, you’re my girlfriend. I need you. I didn’t mean to smack you. I can be sober. I can. Kyle can help you.
No. Kyle can help you. I am leaving.
You’re taking all of your stuff?
Everything that is simply mine. I didn’t pack any of our “mutual” items.
Do you have a place to stay? It really was amazing how calm he was, kneeling on Chuck’s back. It occurred to me that he may have had to be that forceful with him before.
Yeah, I have a place.
Do you need help taking the boxes to your car?
No, I’ve got it. As long as you keep him occupied, I’ll be good.
Kyle nodded, and continued kneeling on Chuck’s back. It took five trips for me to empty the apartment of everything I owned. On the sixth trip, Kyle still kneeling on top of Chuck, I took out my key and put it on the floor, in front of the front door.
Make sure he remembers I left this, I said. He doesn’t always remember things in the morning.
Kyle nodded. I’m sorry, Kim. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have offered him a beer.
I don’t blame you, Kyle. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Goodbye, Chuck.
Kim!
He may have shouted other things to me. Kyle was still pinning him to the ground and I stopped listening. I got in my car and started driving. I didn’t know where I was going to go, when I started to drive. I didn’t get the idea to go to Maryville until I was already on Highway 70. I had thought about going to Columbia, but then it struck me that if Chuck looked for me, that would be the first place he would look.
But Maryville . . . that was a good spot. I had a cousin who was going to college there. Northwest Missouri State University. I hadn’t seen Joey in years. Mom was never big on seeing the family. Being a hooker probably was a good reason for not seeing anybody. She did her best with me, but when she ran away with one of her clients when I was 16, I wasn’t surprised. I waited until I turned 17 and filed for enunciation. Since I didn’t know my father, I couldn’t go live with him. But I did know that Joey was my cousin (at least one of them, at any rate). He went to Northwest on a basketball scholarship. Maybe I could crash with him for a while. Give me a chance to start over.
I called the library after I passed Kansas City (God . . . it was a really long drive to Maryville!). I explained what happened to my boss. And she said that she understood. She said she would take care of all the paperwork for me. Said not to worry about the two weeks’ notice thing. She understood. I would miss working for her.
When I made it into Maryville, I called the number I had for Joey.
Hello?
Hi, I’m Kim Parsons. I was calling for Joey.
Who?
Joey. Joey Wegman.
Yeah yeah, I heard that. Who is this calling?
I’m Kim Parsons. I’m his cousin.
Kim?
Is this the right number? I asked. With everything that was not getting understood, it seemed like a logical conclusion that this was not the right number.
Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s Joey. I just haven’t heard from you in a while.
Yeah, it’s been a while.
So why are you calling?
I need a place to stay, actually. I can pay a couple months’ rent, if you want, but I need to get away from where I was staying before. You’re the closest thing to family that I’ve got.
Silence. I hate silence. It always feels like something is going unsaid in silence. Being someone who likes to talk, it just feels wrong when things go unsaid. However, Joey is male. Their views on silence are completely different from female versions of silences. And, I was asking to move in with him. I didn’t even know what his living situation was.
Yeah, that’s fine. You can crash here. Don’t know why you would want to . . . Maryville isn’t that exciting a place to be.
Trust me, it’s better than where I was.
He laughed and gave me directions to his apartment. We said our goodbyes, and I said I’d see him in a little bit. It had been years since I’d seen Joey last. Well, at least we’d have something to talk about.