Page 45 of The Dis-Graced

“Can you honestly say you can give up alcohol and all other drugs? Because that’s the only way any of that could be made possible.”

“Plenty of alcoholic have families, why can’t I? I mean, we have enough money to hire a full-time driver for me. It’s not like I’d have to hold down a job.”

“Devon—”

“Fine! Just send me back. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“I just—I don’t get it. I’ve been checking in on you all week, and then this?”

“I came up here, thinking that since it was the weekend, you’d be at home. I felt, I don’t know, like I was going to do something. And I guess I did. I didn’t mean to, but when I saw her holding the bottle, I just… I hate myself.”

My heart softens as I see his very real struggle unfolding before me. I believe him, that he wants a normal and good life. God, that’s what makes it so tragic.

“Devon, I love you. I know I’m cold, there’s just so much water under the bridge. I don’t know how to be anything other than what we are, so I don’t think I can help you the way you need me to.”

“I get it.”

Devon walks past me, towards the elevator, head slumped.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Devon—”

“You have no control over me, Drake. Go, tell mommy, have me followed, but you can’t force me to do anything.”

As he proceeds towards the exit, I’m hit with worries that I’ll never see him again. That his eventual downfall will be my fault because I chose not to help my mother get him back to safety. I was stubborn, wanting so badly for Devon to function on his own, and this is something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life if I can’t get this situation under control.

“Dev,” I shout. “Let me help you. Let me bring you somewhere in the city, where mom won’t find you. I’ll get you help.”

“Naw, man. We’re done.”

Chapter 12

Grace

It doesn’t take me long to pack my things, after all, I didn’t bring much to Drake’s to begin with. I haven’t texted Luke yet. I’m too humiliated.

Just as I’m about to wheel my bags out the door, my phone vibrates with a call from Stephanie, who I haven’t talked to in a while.

Grace:Hello?

I greet my friend through sobs.

Stephanie:Oh my gosh, what’s wrong? Who do I have to kill?

I wipe tears from my eyes, and attempt to rein in my emotions. Stephanie knows I took a job, but I never told her who I was working for, as Drake required discretion.

Grace:I-I fucked up. I had this assignment, but now I have nothing.

Stephanie:Tell me, what happened?

Grace:I didn’t know the guy’s brother was an alcoholic, and I gave him wine.

Stephanie:Damn—that sucks. But if the guy was an adult, he has some level of blame.

Grace:I don’t know what to do now. I don’t have a job, and I’ll probably never work in my field again. I don’t even have my own apartment—Oh-my-GOD—I’m homeless.