37 growled. He turned sharply from the bakery and headed towards the frozen foods. As Rob turned the corner of one of the isles, he was met with the liquor department—a large sprawling selection of perfectly marketed bottles of wines, beer, and spirits. Dread settled in his stomach. He was stopped by a large bottle of vodka on an endcap, his body engulfed with temptation. “God, I love vodka,” he mumbled under his breath as he grabbed the bottle and cradled it. Conflicting thoughts dashed through his mind, but none so strong as the desire to consume the bottle. He forgot his hunger as he made his purchase. It had started raining again as he walked back to the apartment. He felt the heavy raindrops fall onto his hooded sweatshirt. The sky was an angry gray and a large boom of thunder echoed in the distance. The apartment was still silent when he entered. He beelined to the bathroom and shut the door. He waited in the bathroom a long time before he opened the bottle. He took a long drink, followed by another, letting the liquid burn his throat. This time the alcohol was slow to numb his senses. He waited for a moment, closing his eyes, willing the vodka to pull him into oblivion. Nothing. Rob was jarred back to reality when he heard a gentle knocking on the door. “Are you okay in there?” Katy asked, her voice uncertain. He didn’t respond right away. He was stunned. He looked at the half-empty bottle and felt a rush of something the alcohol had always numbed before—shame. He opened the door to the bathroom and shakily handed Katy the bottle. “Please take this from me,” he said. “It doesn’t work for me anymore.” Rob watched as Katy cautiously took the bottle, walked to the kitchen, and poured its contents down the kitchen sink. He moved toward the living room and took a seat on the couch, putting his head between his hands and mumbling angry words at himself. Katy returned from the kitchen and sat down on the floor in front of him. “You know—I’m a huge Harry Potter fan,” she began after a long moment. “Albus Dumbledore said: ‘Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.’ That’s the one thing that scared me when I thought of getting sober: all the shit I was hiding from was going to come rushing back all at once.” “What did you do when it got to be too much?” Rob asked. “Honestly, my worst day of being sober was so much better than my best day of being drunk. Sure, the emotions I was fighting to hide were there, but I discovered that the alcohol never really helped me to begin with.” “I suppose you’re going to throw me out now?” She took in the weather outside. It was raining in sheets with lightning constantly flickering across the darkened sky. She hugged her knees and rocked back for a moment. “No. I want to help you if you’re willing to do the work. Everyone needs redemption and I think you’re ready for yours.”
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