The next morning Richie woke early and stretched out before getting up and taking a shower. Standing under the shower longer than usual, he had no idea what to do anyway. He would have to go downstairs soon but he preferred putting it off as long as he could. Last night he hadn’t gone back down to meet the rest of the people and didn’t look forward to it now either.
After his shower and getting dressed he sat back down on his bed and picked up his guitar, playing some chords. He knew he wanted to work on some songs for a solo album but during rehab it just didn’t feel right, it would probably influence his songs so he stuck to playing songs he knew instead of composing.
After about an hour of playing his guitar he felt more relaxed and started to feel hungry and wondered if breakfast was still available downstairs. Yesterday Tina had told him what hour’s breakfast, lunch and dinner was but he wasn’t really paying attention. He put his guitar down and got up to go downstairs.
When he walked down the stairs, he had an overview of the living area and noticed nobody was there, the space was empty except for someone sweeping the floor, he assumed he was part of the cleaning team.
He went back to where he had come in yesterday, the front desk, to ask where everybody was.
“Richard, what are you doing here, you have to be in that group therapy.” Tina told him when he walked up to the desk.
Richie felt like a little child being caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to do and didn’t know what to say but repeat her. “Group therapy?” “Yes, you would have known if you were at orientation last night.” She explained sternly, a bit annoyed.
She seemed nice yesterday but now he wasn’t too sure anymore. “Orientation?” “Here,” she took a piece of paper from under her desk, “every week after dinner we show everyone their schedules, so you have to be there.” She started pointing out which days he had therapy during the week and at what time.
The schedule also told him who volunteered to make meals and if there were any special occasions. He thought his schedule was rather full. He had 2 hours to talk to a psychologist each day, 3 days of group therapy which was all morning. After that he would have 2 hours with an addiction therapist.
He had done it all before so he knew how it would go, back to why he started drinking, realizing why he had started, learning to live without it and the last few days they would spend looking towards the future. Last time he had left before they talked about how to fix it but he had heard how the system worked. It was the group therapy he didn’t look forward to. No one here had lived his life of lifestyle, they wouldn’t understand it. As much as he thought he was just like any other person, he was not.
It was almost 10.45 and he could hear his stomach growl, reminding him he was hungry. “Did you have breakfast?” Tina asked worried now.
He thought it was funny, just a few minutes ago she seemed annoyed with him and now she was worried.
“No, I haven’t, can I still get some?” “You know where the kitchen is; just make sure you go tomorrow.” He took the piece of paper with his schedule on and left in search of food.
He found the kitchen and walked inside, not expecting anyone but he was wrong. There was a lady cooking eggs by the stove. Shouldn’t she be at that group therapy too?
“Morning.” He said. She jumped and dropped her ladle, she clearly hadn’t expected anyone walk into the kitchen either. She put her hand on her chest where her heart was. “Geez, you scared me.” She said as she turned around to face him.
He recognized her, he had seen her the night before. What was her name? He searched his brain but he couldn’t remember it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I missed breakfast so I came to see if there was anything I could still get.” He explained to her, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. He’d seen her last night, he knew he did, hadn’t he noticed how beautiful she looked then? Damn it, he’d even talked to her! He kept searching his brain, someone must have mentioned it. What did they talk about last night?
She emptied the pan of eggs onto a plate and placed her plate on the table, walking back to the counter she took the box of eggs and handed it to him. “Breakfast,” and she sat down at the chair that held her plate in front it, far away from him.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, he talked to her the day before, he couldn’t just say, hey I’m new, who are you?
He took the box of eggs, cracked a few in the pan and kept going over the conversation yesterday. When, who was it? Carl, that was it, he had told him who everyone in the room was. Then he talked to her, he tried to repeat the conversation.
“I forgot your name.”
“Richie.” He had said.
Sarah! It was Sarah, he remembered now. That was it, Sarah, she was beautiful.
The whole time he was cooking, she hadn’t said anything and he was too busy thinking of her name to say anything.
He finished his eggs and sat down at the table across of her. “How are you today Sarah?” He asked, thinking how smart he was to remember her name and took his first bite of his eggs.
“I’m good Richie, how are you? You seemed uncomfortable yesterday.” She looked up at him across the table. She reassured herself the table was wide enough and he was three feet away from her and took another bite of her eggs.
“Better, a little bit more hopeful today.” He said positive and believed his words, there was no point about sulking around a rehab centre, he should get his life in order so he could go back on tour and in the end, see his daughter again. He had to be positive.
“That’s good, usually it takes people a day or two to get used to it. Missed group therapy, did you?”
He did but what was her excuse for being in the kitchen, he had understood the whole group had to be there, no excuses. “I did, what about you?” “You haven’t been there yet, they’re so boring. Besides, I don’t like acting like a kid like they do. They finish it off with a group hug, wouldn't surprise me if they even had a little dance.” She actually chuckled when she said it, surprised with herself.
More regret came to his mind, group hugs, dances? That was way too much for him.
“You don’t like that either, I can see it by your reaction.” She said, paying close attention to his facial expression. “It sounds like... crap.” Swearing probably wasn't a good idea. “It is, I sneak out every day, they gave up on complaining.” Sarah explained to him. “Who made you come here?”
Made him come? He had to be here, for his own health, he wasn’t doing this for anyone else, except for Ava. “I need to do this, I have my daughter, my work, so I have to fix this.” He said a little bit defensive.
“Of course, I’ll put it in another way, who dropped you off? No wife and children?” She hoped she hadn't insulted him, she didn't want to do that as uncomfortable she felt, she didn't.
Richie laughed. “No, my best friend, but he schemed the plan with my ex-wife.”
After his shower and getting dressed he sat back down on his bed and picked up his guitar, playing some chords. He knew he wanted to work on some songs for a solo album but during rehab it just didn’t feel right, it would probably influence his songs so he stuck to playing songs he knew instead of composing.
After about an hour of playing his guitar he felt more relaxed and started to feel hungry and wondered if breakfast was still available downstairs. Yesterday Tina had told him what hour’s breakfast, lunch and dinner was but he wasn’t really paying attention. He put his guitar down and got up to go downstairs.
When he walked down the stairs, he had an overview of the living area and noticed nobody was there, the space was empty except for someone sweeping the floor, he assumed he was part of the cleaning team.
He went back to where he had come in yesterday, the front desk, to ask where everybody was.
“Richard, what are you doing here, you have to be in that group therapy.” Tina told him when he walked up to the desk.
Richie felt like a little child being caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to do and didn’t know what to say but repeat her. “Group therapy?” “Yes, you would have known if you were at orientation last night.” She explained sternly, a bit annoyed.
She seemed nice yesterday but now he wasn’t too sure anymore. “Orientation?” “Here,” she took a piece of paper from under her desk, “every week after dinner we show everyone their schedules, so you have to be there.” She started pointing out which days he had therapy during the week and at what time.
The schedule also told him who volunteered to make meals and if there were any special occasions. He thought his schedule was rather full. He had 2 hours to talk to a psychologist each day, 3 days of group therapy which was all morning. After that he would have 2 hours with an addiction therapist.
He had done it all before so he knew how it would go, back to why he started drinking, realizing why he had started, learning to live without it and the last few days they would spend looking towards the future. Last time he had left before they talked about how to fix it but he had heard how the system worked. It was the group therapy he didn’t look forward to. No one here had lived his life of lifestyle, they wouldn’t understand it. As much as he thought he was just like any other person, he was not.
It was almost 10.45 and he could hear his stomach growl, reminding him he was hungry. “Did you have breakfast?” Tina asked worried now.
He thought it was funny, just a few minutes ago she seemed annoyed with him and now she was worried.
“No, I haven’t, can I still get some?” “You know where the kitchen is; just make sure you go tomorrow.” He took the piece of paper with his schedule on and left in search of food.
He found the kitchen and walked inside, not expecting anyone but he was wrong. There was a lady cooking eggs by the stove. Shouldn’t she be at that group therapy too?
“Morning.” He said. She jumped and dropped her ladle, she clearly hadn’t expected anyone walk into the kitchen either. She put her hand on her chest where her heart was. “Geez, you scared me.” She said as she turned around to face him.
He recognized her, he had seen her the night before. What was her name? He searched his brain but he couldn’t remember it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I missed breakfast so I came to see if there was anything I could still get.” He explained to her, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. He’d seen her last night, he knew he did, hadn’t he noticed how beautiful she looked then? Damn it, he’d even talked to her! He kept searching his brain, someone must have mentioned it. What did they talk about last night?
She emptied the pan of eggs onto a plate and placed her plate on the table, walking back to the counter she took the box of eggs and handed it to him. “Breakfast,” and she sat down at the chair that held her plate in front it, far away from him.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, he talked to her the day before, he couldn’t just say, hey I’m new, who are you?
He took the box of eggs, cracked a few in the pan and kept going over the conversation yesterday. When, who was it? Carl, that was it, he had told him who everyone in the room was. Then he talked to her, he tried to repeat the conversation.
“I forgot your name.”
“Richie.” He had said.
Sarah! It was Sarah, he remembered now. That was it, Sarah, she was beautiful.
The whole time he was cooking, she hadn’t said anything and he was too busy thinking of her name to say anything.
He finished his eggs and sat down at the table across of her. “How are you today Sarah?” He asked, thinking how smart he was to remember her name and took his first bite of his eggs.
“I’m good Richie, how are you? You seemed uncomfortable yesterday.” She looked up at him across the table. She reassured herself the table was wide enough and he was three feet away from her and took another bite of her eggs.
“Better, a little bit more hopeful today.” He said positive and believed his words, there was no point about sulking around a rehab centre, he should get his life in order so he could go back on tour and in the end, see his daughter again. He had to be positive.
“That’s good, usually it takes people a day or two to get used to it. Missed group therapy, did you?”
He did but what was her excuse for being in the kitchen, he had understood the whole group had to be there, no excuses. “I did, what about you?” “You haven’t been there yet, they’re so boring. Besides, I don’t like acting like a kid like they do. They finish it off with a group hug, wouldn't surprise me if they even had a little dance.” She actually chuckled when she said it, surprised with herself.
More regret came to his mind, group hugs, dances? That was way too much for him.
“You don’t like that either, I can see it by your reaction.” She said, paying close attention to his facial expression. “It sounds like... crap.” Swearing probably wasn't a good idea. “It is, I sneak out every day, they gave up on complaining.” Sarah explained to him. “Who made you come here?”
Made him come? He had to be here, for his own health, he wasn’t doing this for anyone else, except for Ava. “I need to do this, I have my daughter, my work, so I have to fix this.” He said a little bit defensive.
“Of course, I’ll put it in another way, who dropped you off? No wife and children?” She hoped she hadn't insulted him, she didn't want to do that as uncomfortable she felt, she didn't.
Richie laughed. “No, my best friend, but he schemed the plan with my ex-wife.”
