SEANA BRUFF - RECOVERY

Based in NYC, Seana Bruff started writing at the University of British Columbia where she studied political science and creative writing. Seana found her writing voice by way of theatre, the intricate characters and electricity of live shows inspired her to write character driven stories that focused on examining human motivation. While writing allows her to create full story arcs that reflect her thoughts on an issue, her experience in theatre has allowed her to reflect how these conversations would realistically sound. Seana continues to act and to write fiction, screen plays and theatre pieces today.

Recovery
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​Hot water to cut the nausea, cold water to calm the sweats: Sunday morning. Andy sat, hunched over in a metal folding chair that had been forgotten on the side of the church corridor, waiting to pick up his niece from Sunday school. The long beige hallway stretched on for what seemed like a mile, accented only by deep chestnut crosses that had been installed every ten feet, looming from above. The harsh florescent lighting cast everything and everyone in a sickly shade of yellow. Andy’s heart pounded against his chest, pulsating into his head and running like an electrical current down to the small patch of sweat that had formed in the middle of his back. His breath felt acidic over his tongue.
This was the fourth or fifth time Andy was supposed to have been “sober.” He had lost count of how many legitimate tries he attempted amongst the trivial challenges of his youth, the “Sober Octobers” or the “30 dry days.” Small or large, they all failed. There was the time after he forced himself to see a therapist that he managed to get six months of sobriety out of: “I’m just gonna take it easy tonight,” until he was on the verge of excommunication from his friends; the excuse had run its course. Another year, after he got fired from his first real job, he tightened up. But he just exchanged one thing for another. Drinking fell out and, in its absence, he found himself inflicting a strict rigidity into his life, with the desperation of a man trying to reclaim twenty years. The tension he enforced only welled larger and larger, building the cliff higher and higher. He broke that sobriety stint by driving his car off the road with an open bottle of Jameson in the passenger seat. The crash was the only thing that shook through Andy’s meticulously built facade of success that complimented the Andy everyone loved: the twelve Whiskey rock’s deep Andy. By this time in his life, he didn’t even enjoy the feeling anymore, the glamour and euphoria. He had simply built up a life around those fleeting highs and was chained to it. He had defined himself in impossible terms and was sentenced to a life in constant pursuit of it.
            “Uncle Andy!”
Lexi came bounding down the church hallway, dressed head to toe in purple. Her brown hair, which had been pulled into a pony tail at the beginning of the day, now had a halo of tangled flyaways – a sign of a good day spent running around. She was everything a kid is supposed to be.
 
“Hey! There she is!” Andy said slamming his cold water back and stacking the cup
beneath the hot water in his other hand. “How’s my girl doing?”
“Goooooooood! We did so much today! We got to glue these little furry balls to a giant wall to make a flower, and then we played tag for like seven whole hours, it was aweeeeeeeeeesome!” Lexi said bent backwards to look up at Andy from the hug she had enveloped him in, before skipping off towards the parking lot.
Looking after her, a tightness formed in the back of his throat. To be confronted with something so pure and happy was almost unbearable.
Andy struggled with the car seat he kept in the back of his trunk. Finally wrestling it out, he strapped it into the sleek leather interior of his latest model Mercedes. They looked out of place together, one being the antithesis of the other. But Andy loves these afternoons when he gets to play house, imbued with an instantaneous feeling purpose.
They fell into a comfortable silence on the way to Andy’s sisters house. Lexi, exhausted from the morning at Sunday school, silently looked out the window for most of the trip watching houses pass by.
“Do you think God chooses your life?,” Lexi asked out of the blue. The question hit Andy with the same effect as if the sky had opened up and a giant alien swallowed him whole.
“Getting deep today, huh Lex?” Andy glanced through the rearview mirror trying to
read her face. “Um, no, well, no… I think sometimes cosmically things line up, or maybe cosmically things are supposed to line up and sometimes we miss those trains. You know? Your choices always changing your outcome,” he rambled, trying to grasp at the few conclusions he had managed to come to over his life. A new wave of nausea washing over him.
“Hm. Like, what cereal I have in the morning can change my life?”
“No, like what city you live in, what kind of friends, how you live,” Andy listed off, as screenshots of each one flashed in his mind. Him and his friends sitting around a table pouring out Champaign. Work lunches spent chatting in suits over scotch. Andy laying on his couch paralyzed from anxiety. The face of every woman who has grown tired of trying to keep up with his lifestyle- always thinking that at some point he would choose them over a night out.
“Ok. I don’t think I wanna live in this city then,” Lexi shrugged.
 “What makes you say that?”
“It all moves fast, no one has time, everyone looks sad,” Lexi decisively said. Andy couldn’t help but feel a smile twitch onto his face, the clarity of her wisdom could cut through diamonds. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the worry started to form that one day she would be able to tell when he had had one too many or was feeling rough when he picked her up in the morning. The anxious feeling in his stomach was becoming increasingly harder to ignore.
“Huh,” is all that Andy could muster back.
Andy’s sister was in the kitchen when they arrived, prepping the afternoon snack. Her hair sat in a haphazard bun that hadn’t been touched since she got off work Friday. The ripped and spotted shirt she slept in since she was a teenager hung off her shoulder.
“Hey! There you guys are. I was starting to get worried.” Her eyes darted between her brother and her daughter, scanning.
“Calm down Marissa, Sunday school just ran late….after all, they played tag for how long?” Andy turned to Lexi, scoping her up and lifting her over his head. Lexi, now suspended in the air, began laughing. “Seven whole hours!?”
“Ok, sorry…alright you two! Put her down and wash your hands. I’ve got food ready,” Marissa said with a tired smile, the faint hint of anxiety still present in her eyes.
Watching Lexi run down the hall, Andy felt Marissa turn to him- scrutinizing the bags under his eyes and clocking the crumpled T-shirt. He already knew his voice was too raspy.  Wordlessly, she walked to the medicine cabinet, shook two Tylenol out on her hand, got a glass of water and held it in front of him- forcing him to meet her eyes. Andy played with the idea of denying it for a moment before reluctantly accepting. The two stood at opposite ends of the kitchen, disappointment and anger charging the air between them. Marissa was the first to speak, “What was it this time?”
“Out with friends, someone got a promotion and bought a couple of bottles for the table. One thing led to another.”
“Of course.” Marissa infused her words with a crushing air of indignance. He promised her and she needed him.
“Oh, come on Marissa. I’m not drinking drinking again, it was just for the promotion, I’m not going out for the shits and gigs of it, it’s not like that anymore,” Andy said, trying to minimalize.
“I don’t have anyone else, Andy. Mom and dad are gone. Lexi doesn’t have anyone but me and you, and you can never just fucking get it together. Let me make myself clear. Drunk, hungover, high, I don’t give a fuck whatever else. You ever drive her remotely, remotely, not all there again, it’ll be the last time you ever see her.” Marissa turned her back to Andy, dismissing him, before she turned around and added, “It’s just fucking exhausting. I can’t take care of two of you.”
Andy cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. He looked like a kid in time out. “Okay, I get that, I do. Honestly, it was just a one-time thing. I’ve been so much better lately and you know that! I’ve been trying to help out more with Lexi. It’s just hard. Work people are always drinking, friends are always drinking, there’s only so many times you can say “no, I can’t go” or go and not have a drink, before you turn into THAT guy,” Andy clumsily tried to explain.
“You are fucking forty Andy, it’s the time in your life when you can be THAT guy. Learn to say no god dammit. If the only thing you and your friends can “bond” over is a drink, that sucks. That fucking sucks. I’m calling bullshit on that,” Marissa said, daring him to try and rebuke her.
The drumbeat of Lexi’s footsteps running down the hall began and grew increasingly louder, a silent agreement seemed to pass between the two: table the issue and put on a smile.
The rest of the afternoon passed with little incident. Movies, homework help, dinner and
then came time for Andy to head back home. After he collected his things, Marissa caught him on the way out the door, “Remember what I said. You can’t keep doing this, I need you around, okay?” She gave Andy a swift hug that let him know she hadn’t totally given up on him and shuffled him out the door.
 
 
***
5: 23 PM: “Hey man, long weekend plans: the boys are getting a Limo for the day- pick up at 9 am, boozy brunch, drinks on the boat, into a BBQ at night. U in?”
“Sorry can’t, I’m out of town that weekend.”
 
 
3:30 PM: “Happy hour?”
“Sorry, working late today, maybe another time!”
 
9:32 AM: “Client Meeting. Pick a fancy restaurant, the guy really likes his wine…. Pretentious dick.”
“Why don’t we just have it in the office? Save the expense.”
 
10 PM: “Hey dude, haven’t seen you in like a month, where the fuck are you? We’re thinking of going out this weekend, join- it’ll be fuckin nutzzzzzz”
“I don’t really know, not feelin too hot.”
 
2: 55 PM: “Dude, whatever the fuck you are going through, it’s weird how M.I.A. you have been”
“Sorry, things have been insane lately, we will do something soon.”
 
 9:30 PM: “Alright fuck this. Me, Riley, and Connor are on our way to your house right now, get dressed were going out.”
“hahaha ahhhh fuck…. Alright let’s do it.”
***
It was sometime around 1 am when Andy felt the familiar slump in his eyes. As he sat back and watched the bar around him, all the noise fell out and he was left watching from the outside as people around him obeyed the dance of the bar: throwing their heads back laughing, slamming tables to tell a story to their captive audiences, fruitlessly flirting with their waitress and exchanging glances with the cute girl at the table over. He was the puppeteer of them all.
Here, he elevated above the norm- living up to the potential, the quasi fame, the persona he saw in himself.
Andy’s phone had been buzzing for about a half hour, but he had long since numbed away his ability to care or notice. It was around 2 am when he finally checked it. 13 missed calls- Marissa. Even through the thick haze of whiskey, he knew something was wrong.
 
 
10 missed texts:
12:35 AM: “Andy pick up your phone.”
12:40 AM: “Andy, I know its late and I’m gonna just call you till you wake up.”
12: 55 AM: “I’m in the hospital right now, long story. We are all going to be okay, but    Lexi is sobbing and needs someone to take care of her. Basically, my fucking appendix is going to burst, and I need to do that stupid surgery.”
1:00 AM: “Andy.”
1:01 AM: “Andy.”
1:07 AM: “Even with do not disturb you should be hearing this now.”
1:10 AM: “Andy wake the fuck up! They are going to make her wait in the child care area alone.”
 1: 11 AM: “Fuck, Andy I need you.”
1:13 AM: “Andy.”
1:13 AM: “Andy.”
1:13 AM: “Andy.”
Andy couldn’t stand up right. If he showed up to the hospital like this Marissa would never let him see Lexi again, this would be it. Andy paced outside the bar. Every time he thought he came to a decision, he second guessed it. With one eye closed, he tried to tap out a message, fumbled his phone and it dropped on the ground. Andy used a sign pole to steady himself as he reached down, it began to buzz just as his fingers closed around it. Marissa. His finger hovered above the green answer button, arguing with himself over what to do, until it went to voicemail.
Andy felt like his legs might give out when he heard it. Instead of Marissa, it was Lexi. One of the nurses had let her use Marissa’s phone since she had just gone under. Lexi could barely hold it together, she had been crying so long she had gotten the hiccups, only managing to say “please come” before Andy could hear a soothing voice of a nurse in the background trying to prod the phone from her. The message ended with the nurses voice, “Hello sir, I am a nurse at Jackson. Just letting you know that I am looking after Lexi while her mom is in surgery, but she really needs someone here. She is not doing well, you are listed as both of their emergency contacts. We don’t have anyone else to call. If you could please make your way down to the pediatrics wing as soon as possible to get her, that would be great. Thank you.”
Wheeling around to the street, he tried to hail a cab and tripped. Steading himself against a car, he realized there was no point in this. There are mistakes you can recover from and ones you can’t.
So, he went home, went to bed and slept it off.
In the morning, Andy woke, took a deep breath and called Marissa. He feigned panicked confusion! Told her how he had missed every call! Every text! That he had just woken up and he couldn’t believe what he had done! Profusely apologizing the entire time.
Mistakes you can recover from and mistakes you can’t.
She forgave him. Afterall, it was 2 am and he was supposed to be sleeping. She had gotten a nurse to stay with Lexi for the whole surgery and promised her a new Build-A- Bear after this whole thing was over. Lexi was shaken but will be alright, Marissa said. Andy promised to come over and get Lexi so she could go home and let Marissa recover in the hospital.
“Thanks for stepping up recently,” Marissa said after they had finalized the plans, “I know... I know I got angry a while back, but I was just scared. For you, for Lex. But you did it.”
“Of course, Marissa, you were right. There are some things that are more important.” Andy walked into the bathroom and caught a glance at himself in the mirror, the shadow of last night’s whiskey had hallowed his face, “Ok, I’ll be there soon.”
It would be several months before he could meet his gaze in the mirror for more than five seconds, it would be a couple more after that before he could look at Lexi without wanting to cry and several years before he could admit to anyone what he had actually done. After that night he only picked up a drink once more. Halfway through his beer, he put it down- it disgusted him. Andy’s self-loathing and anxiety had reached its breaking point. Mistakes you can recover from and the mistakes you can’t.