Intervention

Well, my weekend was insane. Like, I don't mean good parties, drunk for two days, I mean literally INSANE. There was absolutely NOTHING to do Friday night - I worked an hour later, went home, and sat in front of the TV until I went to bed at 11. BOO!! All of my friends were either sick or broke, Brad was working, it sucked. Saturday wasn't so boring, but by the time all was said and done, I wished it could have been as dull as Friday.

After wondering all morning about what to do that night, I finally decided that since I'm going to Connecticut this weekend, I should try to save some money. Then I thought of the camp. I could go to the camp, relax, and spend very little money. Then a wonderful thought occured to me. I would ask Brad to come to the camp also ;) So I called him, and found out that he was supposed to work that night, but had already called in sick. I told him I was going to the cabin, alone, and that he was more than welcome to come. He said sure, that he was going on a snowmobile ride for the afternoon but when he got back fom that, he'd come right out. I asked what time I should expect him, and he said not late, probably between 7 and 8.

So I went out to the camp around 4 that afternoon, and got the power hooked up, and the fire built. Expecting all that to consume the better part of an hour, I was amazed that I had accomplished all of that in less than 10 minutes. So there I stood, on the porch that's built out over the side-hill, and stared at the brook and the trees beyond it. I was bored already. Here I was, alone, and Brad wouldn't be here for another 3 or 4 hours. What to do, what to do. Long story short, I occupied myself by doing small mundane tasks.

7 o'clock came and went. 8 o'clock also passed. Still no Brad. I wondered why he hadn't called. I checked my cell for voicemail, then realized that it was shut off. So I turned it on, and called his cell. No answer. I didn't think much of it, if he was on his way here, he'd never hear his cell ringing over the sound of his snowmobile. But at 9:30 when he still wasn't there, I kinda worried a little. I knew that he would be drinking, and he'd been too lucky lately drinking and driving. So by 10:15 when he still wasn't there, hadn't called, and I couldn't get an answer from his phone, I called Bitch. I really didn't want to, and wouldn't dream of telling her where I was calling from, but I just had this awful feeling like something bad had happened. And it had.

As soon as she picked up the phone, all I could hear was this loud sobbing. I could barely understand her, but I managed to pick out "...couldn't find you anywhere...you need to come out here...gone crazy" and the second I heard "gone crazy" my heart jumped into my throat. I hung up the phone and ran to the car. I drove so fast out of the camp road, had to stop and unlock the gate to get through, and the lock was frozen. I fucked around with that for at least 5 minutes, when it finally popped. Brad lived only about 10 minutes from there, and I think I may have made it out there in less than five. I ran inside, and it was totally quiet. I walked through the kitchen, and right before I walked into the living room, I heard Brad crying, and he said "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry". I walked quietly through the living room and down the hallway towards the bathroom. When I walked past the gun cabinet in the hallway, I noticed one of the glass doors had been smashed. A gun was missing. The bathroom door was closed, and all I could hear was Brad crying and saying he was sorry. I could hear nothing else. My adrenaline was off the charts as I reached for the doorknob, and just like in the movies, right before I opened the door, expecting to see Bitch laying in a pool of her own blood, I heard her say "Oh Jesus, it's just a scratch. Calm down." I stopped. Then I almost laughed at myself for thinking Brad had murdered Bitch. Then I got mad, wondering what in the hell was going on. I threw the door open, both of them screamed, and there they stood, Bitch's arm covered in blood, Brad sitting on the bathtub holding a shotgun. I just lifted my hands up, as if to say "What the fuck, guys???" Brad looked like hell. Bitch looked at me, then at him holding the gun. She was cleaning her arm off in the sink, and she turned back to me. I must have had this look of rage in my eyes, because she went "Oh, no no no, it was an accident. Brad, it's okay babe, it's just an accident." Brad couldn't stop sobbing, and Bitch looked at me and said "You need to stay here with him. I have to go to the hospital to get this looked at." I just nodded, still not sure what was going on. She walked out, and before I followed, I turned and looked at the gun. There was a trigger lock on it. Bitch must have read my mind, because she said "I have the key to the lock right here." So I followed her out to the front door.

"What the fuck is going on here?" I asked her
"He came home drunk, of course, and was in a rage over something. He's down on himself because he feels like a failure, and he said there was only one thing to do about it. He went to the gun cabinet, and when he took the gun out, the butt hit the glass and broke it. He went in the bathroom, and when I went in after him, I didn't know the gun had a lock on it, and I grabbed the end of the barrel. I forgot about the sight on the end, and when Brad pulled the gun out of my hand, the sight cut me. It was an accident. But I need to go to the hospital and get it looked at. PLEASE stay here with him, try to talk to him."

I said okay, and she left. I couldn't stop shaking, and I walked back in the bathroom. He was still sitting exactly how he was when I left him, and as soon as I sat down beside him, he handed me the gun. I took it and put it back in the case. I went back to him. I sat down beside him again, and before I could say anything, he totally collapsed onto me, and he was crying so hard. I just hugged him, still not completely sure as to what was going on. He calmed down a bit after 5 or 10 minutes, and I picked him up.

"What's wrong, man? You know you can tell me anything. What happened?"

He took a deep breath, and said "I hope you've got some time, you're the only one here to listen to me. First of all, I'm an alcoholic..." and then he started crying again. I just let him go. On some level, we've all known Brad has a drinking problem, but no one could say it but him. And he finally said it. He cried for another 5 minutes or so, and then said he needed a cigarette. So we went to smoke, and after he'd inhaled 2 cigarettes, he seemed to be very calm. We went back inside, and he sat me down, and then sat himself across from me. He explained everything, how he was an alcoholic, and how he'd realized it a few months ago, but then got so depressed over it, he tried to drink that away. Then it was how he and his father had a shitty relationship, and he felt bad about doing something terrible to his grandparents when he was 14, and even though they'd forgiven him, he never felt like he'd made it up to them before they both died last year. He felt bad because his brother is so successful and Brad hasn't really accomplished anything since high school, which isn't true, but he's constantly comparing himself to his brother. Then it was how most of his problems stemmed from Bitch, but she was really the only person who could keep him grounded too, so he felt screwed there. Then we started whatever it is we started, and he had all these new feelings for me he never had before, and this piled on top of everything else just gave him so much to think about, and once again, he turned to alcohol. Then tonight, he was sick of dealing with everything and figured the easiest thing to do for everyone was just kill himself. He just said everything that was on his mind, which is what I've been trying to get him to do for so long, and you could see the relief in his eyes, the more he told me. We must have sat there for over an hour. Then he took me out to the garage where he keeps his snowmobile. I walked in, and it had been wrecked. He had done that on his way to the camp, and when he flew off, he dazed himself, and the only way he could remember to go was home. It wasn't a bad wreck, but you could tell he'd hit something. We went back inside, and together we dumped all of his beer out. He handed me the key to his snowmobile, and said "You need to keep that thing away from me for awhile. I need a major lifestyle change." He started panicking when he saw the broken glass and the blood all over the place, but I told him to lie down on the couch; I'd clean everything up. I did, and by the time I was done, he had come down the hall to see how I was doing. I told him I had finished, and he wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my neck. I turned around, and he kissed me again, on the lips. When he pulled back, he said "Thanks. I've got a long ways to go yet, and I need you and (Bitch) both behind me."

I nodded, and told him that everything he needed to do, he had to do himself. No one was going to carry him anywhere. But, speaking for myself only, I would be right behind him the entire time, supporting him. By that time, Bitch had come back, with 7 stitches in her hand. Brad still looked like shit, and he said he needed to go to bed, and would we come and sit with him. We both said yes, and after he got in bed, he started crying again. She laid down beside him, but he still kept weeping. She waved her hand at me, and pointed to the bed. I got up, and walked over to her.
"Lay down beside him. He might go to sleep then." So I crawled over top of both of them, and laid down beside him. I wanted to wrap my arms around him so bad, but I knew I couldn't. I stayed on my back, Brad was on his side, facing away from me. I pushed myself up against him, and within 2 minutes, he had drifted off to sleep. I lay awake for at least an hour, and I could tell by her beathing that she was still awake too. Neither of us said anything to each other. When I woke up the next morning, someone, most likely her, had thrown a blanket over all of us, and they were still both sound asleep. If I had tried to get out of bed, I would've woken both of them up, and when I looked at my watch, I saw it was only 7:30. So I laid back down. Brad had turned in the night, and was facing me. She was on her back with both of her hands up on her chest. When I laid back down, I turned to look at Brad, and I saw his eyes open. He gave me a small smile, and mouthed the word "Mornin'". I smiled back, and whispered "Mornin'" back to him. Then he mouthed "Thank you" to me, and I whispered "You're welcome". He asked what time it was, and he rolled his eyes when I told him it was only 7:30. He closed his eyes again, as did I. Then I felt his hand touch mine. His fingers opened, and he took ahold of my hand. He pulled it in close to him, down by his stomach. I thought for a minute that he was trying something, with her right beside us both, but he wasn't. He just held my hand there. I whispered "It's gonna be alright. We're all here for you" and then I listened to him breathe until I drifted off to sleep again.

Sunday was rough. Brad's parents came home from a weekend outing, not knowing anything that had gone on. His dad flew off the handle, of course, when he saw the gun cabinet smashed, and it took us all to explain what had happened, and what was going to happen. It was an all-day ordeal. Her mother kicked Bitch out, in a weird way. She told her that it was for her own good, it wasn't anything against her. She could do so much better. Knowing that they were probably going to kick me out next, I gathered up every ounce of nerve I could find. Brad's father is intimidating enough, but his mother doesn't take any shit off anyone, either. Sure enough, after his dad yelled some more, they walked towards me. His mom said "I think it's a good idea that maybe you leave too. And since you're probably the biggest 'drinkin' buddy' he has, maybe you should stay away for awhile." My face felt like it was on fire. I stood up, looked her square in the eye, and said "I am a drinking buddy by choice. More importantly, I'm a friend. I don't need to drink to be around him. I grew up next to Brad and I'll be Goddamned if anyone is going to tell me that I can't see him through this." and with that, I left. I drove around all afternoon, didn't answer my cell phone. Around 7 Sunday night, I checked my voicemail. 3 were from Brad, the last one saying that he was going to work, to call him there. I did, and he said after I left, his father told his mother that I was right. They had a long conversation, talked everything over, and Brad calling a rehab centre today. He apoligized for Saturday night; I apoligized for yelling at his mom, we laughed, and then he started to cry again. I told him that everything I said was true, we were all supporting him. I said how proud I was of him that he could admit this himself, and not to worry, everything was going to be fine. He calmed down again, and I let him go. I drove back to his house, walked in and apoligized to his mom. We talked for awhile, discovering that we were in fact on the same page. I left there, and went home, and went to bed. I slept better last night knowing that things were going to change for the better.

So that was my weekend. My best friend is an alcoholic. He's going into rehab. This week. Quite possibly today. But he's going to be a better person, who won't try to hurt himself anymore, and I had never realized what was going on completely until I saw that gun in his hand Saturday night. I also realized that if I'm going to be there for him every step of the way, my lifestyle has to change too. To me, that's a small price to pay in order to see someone I love more than almost anyone else, happy with himself.