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“All week, huh? Then why does this say you bought that exact bottle today, hm?”
I flop back onto the couch, knowing I’m already fucked. She will no doubt reveal this discovery to our mom, who will probably enroll me in both therapy and the internship immediately. “Great job, detective.”
She puts the bottle in the sink, letting it drain as she walks over to sit next to me, pushing my legs out of the way despite my complaints. “I don’t mind the sarcasm, Andries, but I’m worried about you.”
I drape an arm over my eyes and close them. “You and everyone else I come into contact with, it seems.”
She pats my calf as if she’s comforting a dog, but I don’t kick her like I really want to. She’s trying to navigate this mess just like I am, but instead of feeling it all so intensely like I am, she’s trying to keep my head above water while also living her own life. If I wasn’t so trashed, it might make me sad, or thankful to have her beside me at least, but I’m numb right now.
“Let’s go home for the weekend,” she blurts out. “You don’t want to admit it, but you’re killing yourself being in here alone. If you’re noticing everyone being concerned about you, it’s because it’s so obvious that you’re breaking down. Let’s both just go home, and you can detox from the alcohol while getting some much-needed space. What do you think?”
I don’t love the idea of my dark bedroom back at the Van Den Bosch estate, but being fed quality food and not having to be alone constantly, even if I wanted to be most of the time, had its perks. And maybe if I can prove that I’m not having a mental break, Mom will drop the therapy or internship threat.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, the world spinning even as I lie still with my eyes closed.
She lets out a relieved breath. “Good. Great. I’ll call Mom when I leave and have them send a car for us, so you won’t have to worry about it.”
I wish I could sit up and properly thank her, but I’m fading into the less-than-restful blackout drunk sleep, and I can’t manage to rise. So I just tell her, “Thanks, Elise,” before becoming unconscious.
Right before I pass out completely, I can hear her opening my liquor cabinet and the sound of her pouring out all the bottles down the drain. I don’t protest. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
10
V.DB. estate, January 16, 2022
Andries
Knock,knock, knock. “Andries? Are you in there, dear?”
I pull the pillow over my head and groan, already regretting my decision to come back home for a few days to detox. It’s been a constant parade of my younger sisters, my parents, and the household staff trying to get me to eat every thirty minutes, while being less than subtle about making sure I wasn’t drinking.
Really, I wish Iwasdrinking. I felt like shit when I was cycling between drunk and hungover, constantly in pain and barely able to keep my eyes open, but having it all leech out of my system slowly is almost even worse. I’m thankful I wasn’t fully into alcohol addiction territory, because the small bouts of muscle spasms and cold sweats were some of the worst things I’ve experienced in my life.
I was a healthy kid, and a fit, strong adult. When I get sick, I’m only ever down and out for a day or two, but this detoxing bullshit is another animal altogether. It’s like every cold I’ve had and the full body pain from working out too hard while beingdehydrated, all rolled into one miserable package. And no one would leave me alone to just suffer, damn them.
“Yes, Mom, I'm here,” I groan.
She enters as soon as I confirm, bustling over to hand me a small clear cup with three brown pills and a chilled bottle of sparkling water.
“Take these, drink, and get up. We’re having a family dinner tonight.”
I tap my phone screen to check the time. “Mom, it’s noon.”
She huffs. “Considering you’re sweating out enough alcohol to start a brewery, and you look homeless, I figured you would need some extra time to make yourself presentable. Plus, your dad wants to speak to you before dinner.”
“Great, another lecture about being a failure,” I gripe.
She lightly slaps my shoulder, planting her hands on her hips as she looks down at me. “Not everyone in the world is here just to upset you, you know. I’m sure he just wants to have a nice father-son conversation, since the two of you see each other so little compared to how much you see the rest of us.”
Dad and I have nothing in common, but I don’t say that aloud. On some level, she must know already, but ignores the fact so she can pretend to have the perfect family. It isn’t a point of contention between me and Dad, though. We still have a decent relationship, even if our interests don’t align.
“I’ll go see him once I’m presentable,” I confirm to her, and she nods once, a self-satisfied smile on her face.
“Good! Casual dress for dinner tonight, but we’ll have a few guests, so don’t look too crazy, please. No sweatpants.”
“It’s like private school all over again,” I grumble, watching my mom putter about my room, straightening things up and tidying as she goes, as if she doesn’t have an entire staff to do these kinds of things. Not to mention that I’m an adult, perfectlycapable of doing it myself. It must just be a mom thing, trying to help in any way she can.
“You complain a lot for a very privileged young man, Andries,” she says breezily.
