On Mystic Lake

Look, Annie, the glacier lilies are blooming. The thought came out of nowhere, cutting deep. He could no longer turn to her and say whatever came to mind. Besides, she was going to a place where flowers bloomed all year.

The urge for a drink came on him, hard and fast.

He closed his eyes. Please, God, help me hold on . . .

But the prayer was useless. He felt himself starting to fall, and there was no one to catch him. He lurched for his car and jumped in. The car spun away from the bridge turnout, fishtailing back onto the highway, speeding back toward Mystic.

At Zoe’s, he found his favorite chair empty, waiting for him in the darkened corner. It was middle-of-the-day quiet, with just the occasional clinking of a heavy glass on the bar and the low buzz of a television.

It looked like it always had, and for no good reason, that surprised him. The same oak bar, flanked by empty stools. The same cheap fans, circling tiredly overhead, barely disturbing the smoky air. There weren’t more than a handful of people in the place, the old faithfuls who’d staked out their usual spots and sat, glassy-eyed and smoking, clutching drinks.

“Jesus, Nick, where yah been?”

Nick looked up and saw Zoe standing by him. She plunked a drink down in front of him. Then, with a slow nod, she turned and headed back to her place at the bar.

Nick took the glass in his hand. It felt cool and smooth and comforting. He swirled it around, watching the booze shimmer in the dull light from an overhead fixture.

He brought

the drink to his lips, inhaling the sweet, familiar fragrance of the scotch. Drink . . . drink, said a tiny voice deep inside. You know it will take the pain away. . . .

It was seductive, that voice, luring him into the fragrance of the scotch, promising a solution to the pain in his heart, a blurring filter through which to remember Annie.

He wanted to guzzle this drink and then order another and another and another, until he could barely remember that he’d loved her in the first place.

But then he thought of Izzy.

Can I come home, Izzy? When he’d said those words to her, he’d wanted her trust more than anything else in the world. And he wanted it still.

The booze wouldn’t help; the rational part of his brain knew that. He’d get drunk—be a drunk again—and then what? Annie wouldn’t be any closer to coming back to him, and he would have failed his little girl again.

He slammed the drink down, threw a ten-dollar bill onto the table, and lurched to his feet, backing away. At the bar, he waved at Zoe. “I’m outta here. ”

She grabbed a wet towel from underneath the bar and wiped the wood down, eyeing him. “You okay, Nick?”

He tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Good as always, Zoe. ”

He raced out of the bar. His hands were shaking and his throat felt uncomfortably dry, but he was glad to be out of there.

He ran until his side ached and his breathing was ragged, until the need for a drink didn’t consume him. Then he sat for two hours on a park bench, watching the sun slowly set on Main Street. Breath by breath, the panic and fear passed. The pain was still there, throbbing on his heart like an open wound, and he recognized that it would be there for a long, long time, but Annie had changed him, helped him to see himself in a different and kinder light. That’s what he had to focus on now. He had a life that mattered, a daughter who loved and needed him. Falling apart was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

By the time the AA meeting started, Nick had pushed the need for a drink to a small, dark corner of his soul. He filed into the smoke-filled room behind a string of friends.

Joe was right behind him. He felt Joe’s hand on his shoulder, heard his rough, sandpapery voice, “How are you doing, Nicholas?”

Nick was able to smile. “I’m doing okay, Joe. Thanks. ” He took a seat on a folding metal chair, and Joe sat down beside him.

Joe eyed him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Nick knew he must look pale and tired. “I’m okay, Joe,” he said, settling onto the hard plastic seat.

Joe grinned and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Nicholas. ”

Nick closed his eyes and leaned back, sighing deeply. At first, he didn’t notice the tap on his back. When he did, he snapped upright. His heart pounded with anticipation. Annie had changed her mind, she had turned around and come back. He spun around in his metal chair—

And saw Gina Piccolo standing behind him. Her unmade-up eyes looked tired against the chalky pallor of her face. He noticed that the nose ring was gone, as was the black lipstick. She looked as young and innocent as when he’d first seen her, riding her bike to the World-of-Wonders putt-putt golf course all those years ago.

He got slowly to his feet. “Gina,” he said. “What are you doing here?”