Marlene is not really sure when things started going sideways. It doesn’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things, maybe, because the end result is the same. It matters to her though. Was it when she started studying? Fresh out of high school, in a new place by herself for the first time? Or was it later, when her friends started growing out of it and she didn’t?
She remembers vividly still the kind of parties they would throw when they were eighteen, nineteen, all of them cramped into one living room or another, not enough space to sit or even to stand, drinks on every available surface. It was good, so incredibly good, to let go. Her friends shared this sentiment, of course, Sirius and James especially. The three of them used to be the wildest partiers around, going out every weekend and surfing from party to party.
Actually, looking back on it now, it probably started when she started badgering them to go out on Friday and Saturday, and then also on Thursday because the weekend was nearly there and only James had morning classes on Friday and he was immune to hangovers anyway, come on, why not? Please? Why not Wednesdays too?
Or maybe when she started keeping it a secret, the going out. She used to revel in the attention of her friends, grandly telling them the stories of what happened in the club and the fights she witnessed. But that was before all of her friends started looking at her a little funny, saying things like oh you went out again? I thought you was there Tuesday as well?
No, she contemplates, fingers fumbling to open her pack of cigarettes, it was definitely when she started drinking alone, before going to classes, before work. Before going to the grocery store because it was daunting to go without being a little bit buzzed, a little bit loose.
“How are you doing?” Regulus asks now, coming up beside her on the balcony. He leans on the railing, looking down and out at the traffic below. Marlene takes a pull from her cigarette, feeling the smoke swirl in her lungs for a few seconds before she blows it in the opposite direction. She feels a little fuzzy, honestly, the result of the weed she’s smoked this afternoon and the drinks after. She doesn’t really remember how much she’s had, but it’s enough to make the whole world go topsy turvy if she doesn’t close one eye or squint.
She wouldn’t answer at all, probably, if it was anyone except Regulus asking. She’s been a bit volatile, lately, she’s well aware, and she doesn’t want any arguments which can explode in her face. She doesn’t know how to fix it, even though she’s trying her best (no one else seems to notice, but this is really the best she can do now).
But it is Regulus, and she quite likes him. Has had a soft spot for him since she met him, actually. It’s unclear to her why, exactly, but she’s felt a connection from the moment she met him in that kitchen in Sirius’ house. It’s probably how they’re a little alike, what with the way they have a hard time managing their emotions.
“Marlene?” Regulus prompts, and now he’s looking at her sideways. She likes him most because he doesn’t look so worried all the time, unlike Mary and Lily and Remus, with their disapproving gazes and judgement (they don’t really look down on her, Marlene knows that, but it still feels really shitty to feel like you’re not a part of the conversation, like people talk about you behind your back). Also, possibly a little bit because he joined later, and so he didn’t know her before.
“Yeah,” she rasps, taking another drag before the cigarette runs out. They’re silent for a bit. Marlene closes her eyes, feeling the wind on her face. Inside was so hot, and the cool November air is soothing to her feverish skin. One more reason to like Regulus; he doesn’t need to fill the silence with unnecessary bullshit.
“And classes?” Regulus asks after a few minutes, when Marlene has stubbed out the first cig and lit a second. Marlene shrugs in response. She hasn’t gone to classes in days now, or maybe weeks. She can’t actually remember. She’s quite sure she went to a lecture last week, on Tuesday or maybe on Wednesday, but she didn’t take any notes and left during the break.
When she doesn’t answer, Regulus lets out a little sigh, peering back into the night. “Marlene,” he starts, and Marlene wants to cry because she knows that tone. She’s heard it from Mary and from Lily and from James and Remus and even from Sirius. “Listen,” he continues bravely, still not looking at her, “I know you don’t want to hear it and I know you especially don’t want to hear it from me. God knows I don’t want to say it.” He turns to her then, eyes fierce. “But you need to get your shit together.”
Marlene stubs out her cigarette even though she’s only halfway through. “Did Lily send you? She’s such a meddling bitch,” she bites out, and somewhere in the corner of her mind she immediately feels a pang of guilt. Regulus’ mouth pulls to the side in disapproval, but he lets it slide.
“Fuck no, Marlene. I’m saying this because I care, yeah? You’re my friend,” he says, tone hard but gaze soft. “Actually, you are one of my best friends, and I don’t want to see you this way.”
Marlene waves him off, stumbling around him to the door to go back inside. She fumbles with the sliding doors until Regulus helps her pull the handle back and lets her inside. She wants to be angry with him, but she can’t, so she mumbles a quiet thanks when she passes him. Even though she isn’t angry, she doesn’t feel like socializing anymore so she collects her things and goes home.
The next morning (or afternoon, really), when she wakes up and goes downstairs to get some Advil, she finds the contents of her bag strewn about her kitchen table from where her bag tipped over the edge. Cursing, she goes to clean it up. Amongst her lip balm and deodorant and wallet she finds multiple pamphlets on how to quit drinking and support groups in the area.
Furiously, she goes to tear them up, but when she has her hands on the pages she can’t get herself to do it. She goes lax, pamphlets falling onto her lap as she starts sobbing, sitting on her dirty kitchen floor in her pyjamas at two in the afternoon.
(After her mental breakdown she downs a bottle of vodka. Small steps.)
-----
It takes Marlene six months to get the courage to go to one of the meetings. She wears a hat and a dark sweatshirt without any print and the whole way there she glances over her shoulder, paranoid that she may run into someone she knows. The meeting is in the gym of a primary school building. When she gets there she second guesses herself so much that she almost doesn’t go in, too unsure and afraid that she’s in the wrong place.
It’s only when someone else comes along, an older man who eyes her as he walks by but doesn’t say anything before he moves through the double doors, that she takes a deep breath in and follows.
It’s less intimidating then she thought, when she gets into the room. There’s a table to the side with coffee and tea and biscuits, and there are folding chairs which are arranged into rows. Marlene had been afraid they would’ve sat in a circle like she’s seen in the movies, and she would have to be visible to participate.
An older lady walks up to a stand at the front, and everyone present moves towards the chairs in some unspoken agreement. Marlene hurries to follow, sitting way at the back, as the room quiets and the woman in the front smiles. She looks very motherly, short and round and happy.
“Hi everyone, good to see you all. I see many familiar faces, and some new as well,” she starts, looking at Marlene when she mentions the new people, and Marlene sinks down in her chair in shame. “For everyone who doesn’t know me yet: my name is Pomona, and I’ve been sober for thirteen years.”
The whole meeting makes Marlene’s head spin. There’s a general introduction, and then Pomona invites people to come up and talk about their experiences. To Marlene’s surprise, many people do. A girl talks about her difficulties when her parents took her out to a fancy dinner, and a man admits to a relapse after a month of hard work. A boy younger than her tells them about his issues at work in the restaurant, where drinks are always within reach.
It’s not that she thought she was the only one; of course she isn’t, everyone knows how widespread problems with alcohol are. But it’s so freeing to hear other people talking openly about what they struggle with, about how difficult it is to see everyone drinking when you’re trying to quit.
In the end, when Pomona thanks them for sharing and closes the meeting, people stay behind to mingle, cups of tea in hand. The girl who talked about her fancy dinner comes up to Marlene, smiling at her in a disarming way.
“Hi, I’m Alice,” she says, holding a hand out to shake. “I haven’t seen you before.”
Marlene shakes her hand, if only out of habit. “Yeah, no, I haven’t been. This is my first time.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Have you been sober long?” Alice asks, and Marlene flushes as shame runs through her. She isn’t even sober now, having taken some liquid courage before attending. Mutely, she shakes her head. “Hey now, don’t worry, we all start somewhere,” Alice says, still smiling. There’s no trace of judgement in her tone at all.
They talk then, for so long that people start folding the chairs and putting them away around them. It’s a relief, Marlene finds, to actually admit to things out loud without any kind of judgement being thrown her way. Her friends try, of course, but their best isn’t perfect, and Marlene would never even dream of admitting to them that she’s actually quit uni altogether and that she’s been out of work for two months now.
“Can I get your number?” Marlene asks when they’re standing outside, the doors long since locked behind them. It’s already getting dark, but standing together with Alice Marlene doesn’t feel too paranoid about being seen anymore.
For the first time, Alice’s smile slips as she grimaces. “Oh, I’m sorry Marlene, but we’re discouraged from having too much contact with other members of the group outside of the meetings. It’s easier to relapse when you do it together, you know.”
Marlene tries not to take it personally, even though it is a little bit of a blow. “I guess I’ll have to come back to the meetings then,” she tries to joke, a wobble in her voice but it’s worth it because that smile is back, and when they part ways Marlene doesn’t stop smiling until she’s back home.
-----
She keeps going.
Every Tuesday evening, she shows up. It takes a lot of willpower, especially in the beginning, but she goes anyway. Through rain and thunder and sunshine she makes it there, sits down in the middle next to Alice and listens to what others have to say. She stops drinking, and starts up again, and stops and starts and stops and starts. It’s a continuing effort, but slowly the periods she can go without drink get longer and the periods she relapses become shorter.
After five months, when Pomona asks whether anyone wants to share, Marlene gets up.
It’s difficult to walk to the front of the room with so many eyes on her, and when she gets there and turns around to see her waiting audience she almost walks right back to her chair. She doesn’t though. Instead, she wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans. Her heart is in her throat, but she speaks anyway.
“Hi. Uhm, my name is Marlene. I know most of your faces by now, because I’ve been here for some time now. Almost five months, already, actually.” She looks off the side to Pomona, who nods at her to continue with an encouraging smile. “Right, so. I had – have a drinking problem. I was studying, you know, psychology. I really liked it too. But I stopped going to classes and then I got laid off at work because I just – I kept drinking. My friends saw it too, but I was so angry whenever they said anything that I sort of distanced myself from them and then I felt even more miserable. So I came here and it was – it is hard, but I’m sober three weeks now, and that’s…” she trails off, not really sure where she’s going with her story but wanting to get it out nevertheless. “Five months ago, three weeks seemed impossible. So I guess I’m here to say that I’m trying, and I’m proud of myself.”
There’s some subdued applause, and Marlene, flustered, rushes back to her seat. Alice is there to congratulate her, of course, and she delights in it. She feels, for the first time in months, maybe even years, like she’s accomplished something. For the first time in so long, she feels good about herself.
When she’s walking home, she doesn’t take too long to second-guess herself when she grabs her phone and taps Lily’s contact.
“Marlene?” Lily sounds through the phone, and she sounds bewildered and cautious. Marlene can’t blame her, really. She hasn’t seen Lily in… well, too long, anyway. She hasn’t seen any of her friends in so long, because she learned early on that just being around her old life made everything harder.
“Hi, Lily,” she breathes now, nervous but excited because she hadn’t even realised how much she missed one of her oldest friends. “Do you want to, I don’t know, go for lunch tomorrow? Or coffee, maybe?”
There’s silence on the other end for a little bit, and Marlene waits with bated breath because she’s not sure. It’s not like she explained why she suddenly cut off contact, and she can imagine that her friends are not very happy with that. “Of course, Marlene,” Lily then says, sounding fond and relieved, and a smile worms its way onto Marlene’s face.
“Yeah?” she asks, and the smile is audible in her voice, and Lily laughs in response on the other end of the line.
-----
Marlene is nervous. She’s changed three times already, unable to decide on the appropriate attire for an art show. It’s not a proper art show, Regulus has assured her, it’s just a little get together to celebrate the end of their course and their art will be on display. Marlene secretly thinks he’s trying to downplay it a little bit. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on who you ask) for him, their friends aren’t fooled and so there will be a huge turnout for Regulus tonight. Only Remus and Peter aren’t able to make it.
So why is she nervous, you ask? Well, since she’s stopped drinking she hasn’t really been to anything you can classify as a party anymore. Every time she’s met her friends or gone out to dinner, they’ve accommodated her by not drinking around her in solidarity, which is a huge blessing because it was truly necessary for her to get past the first few months. Now, she’s been sober for nine, coming up ten months, and she feels ready to try to be around alcohol again. That doesn’t mean it isn’t daunting though.
She checks her reflection, sighing but deciding that it doesn’t matter. The plaid blouse she’s wearing over ripped skinny jeans is not high fashion, but it’s something she feels good in which is arguably more important. She’ll be fine. It’s nearly time to go anyway, so she doesn’t have time to second guess herself anymore.
As if summoned, the doorbell rings to announce that her ride is here. She gives her hair one more once over before turning on her heel, grabbing her phone and keys and going to get the door. She opens it to a grinning Sirius, bouncing on his feet.
“Come on,” he rushes, grabbing her hand and pulling her along down the narrow stairs to the car waiting out front, “we’ll be late!” Marlene tries not to laugh, really, but it’s a lost cause because she’s never, ever heard Sirius give a shit about being late to anything in her life. This is Sirius Black, the man who was twenty minutes late to his own graduation.
“We’re fifteen minutes early,” she says, but Sirius is too busy diving into the car at top speed to listen to her. She gets into the back next to him, and James turns around from his place in the driver’s seat to greet her. Lily absentmindedly mumbles a hello as well, typing something on her phone. Sirius urges James to stop stalling and start driving, which he does with a laugh.
When they arrive, it’s to a group of familiar people already waiting in the car park. Mary is talking to Barty and Evan when Marlene goes to say hi, and they catch up for several minutes before Sirius anxiously starts herding them towards the building.
Marlene is so happy she came, after all her doubting, because Regulus’ face when he sees all of them is priceless. They are laughing as they come in, and Marlene sees Regulus glance their way before doing a double take and promptly turning red. He excuses himself from where he’s chatting to a stern-looking woman to come up to them.
“You guys!” he splutters, going for a quick one-armed hug with Sirius, “I said you didn’t have to come!” His eyes linger on Marlene for a second, looking absurdly pleased to see her. He doesn’t smile, exactly, but his eyes bunch up a little and his eyebrows lift and he suddenly looks friendly and open. They’ve all gotten used to it, how he doesn’t smile that often (of course he does smile sometimes; he just saves it for special occasions). He gives her a nod, which Marlene can decipher to mean that he hadn’t expected her to be there but he’s happy she is. No one knows just how hard it’s been for her, but Regulus always seems to come closest.
“Of course we came,” James says warmly, smiling at Regulus. Regulus smiles back, and then he leads them all over to his section of the room, a stretch of wall showcasing a number of paintings and drawings and even some sculptures. He explains all of them with animated movements, his eyes sparkling and words, for once, overflowing. It’s a delight to see him like this, and when Marlene shares a look with Sirius she knows he feels the same.
When Regulus finishes explaining, they all disperse, mingling with the rest of the crowd to look at the other works. It’s quite crowded, actually, which throws Marlene a little. She’s already spotted a table with refreshments near the back, did the minute she came in, but she’s avoiding it like the plague just in case there’s anything tempting.
It’s some time later, when she’s studying a painting of a kite in weird colours, that someone comes up to her. She doesn’t notice at first, too busy tilting her head to see whether it’s actually supposed to be a kite or maybe something else, until the man clears his throat. When she looks, he holds up a tray with a number of long-stemmed glasses, something bubbly in them. “Refreshment?” he goes when she doesn’t grab one immediately.
Marlene isn’t proud of it, but the first thing she does is look over her shoulder to see whether any of her friends are watching. Then, her thoughts catch up to her, and panic slams into her ribcage like a physical force. It’s such a blow that she actually takes a step back, and then another one, as she tries to distance herself from the temptation. “Oh, no. No, thank you,” she shakily says, hand coming up to refuse. The man sweeps away immediately, going onto the next guest, unaware that he’s just ignited a minor mental breakdown in one of his patrons.
Marlene turns around, heart pounding, to go and find one of her friends because the evening suddenly looks a lot less exciting and a lot more like a minefield, only to run straight into someone. Hands come up to steady her, and when Marlene looks up she locks eyes with the most gorgeous woman she’s ever laid eyes on.
“I’m sorry,” the woman says, eyes scanning Marlene from top to bottom, “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you alright?” Her hair is piled up on her head in thick braids, black hair interwoven with silver to give an ethereal look. She’s wearing a long, green dress of some shimmery fabric that catches the light and seems to throw it in every direction, and she’s wearing a ton of gold jewellery to match. Marlene fish mouths for a moment, caught in the beauty of her.
“Hi,” she manages eventually, and then, because her heart is still pounding and she’s actually, honest-to-God panicking, “no.”
“No?” the woman repeats, looking her over once more, presumably to check for damage.
“No.” Marlene says again, eyes tearing away from the goddess in front of her to try and find someone she knows. “I need to – do you know, uhm, Regulus?”
It’s a shot in the dark, but the woman looks so much like an artist that Marlene can’t help but think she’s also from the course. “Oh!” The woman indeed says, and starts leading Marlene by the shoulder, “I just saw him. Here, let me take you there.”
It’s crowded, so while the woman shoulders her way through the masses, her hand slips from Marlene’s shoulder down her arm to hold her hand instead. It’s a mindless thing, just because it’s practical, but Marlene can’t help staring at the point of contact as she walks along like a dog on a leash.
Her hands are so soft, is the thing, and when Marlene risks a soft squeeze she feels the contrast of the hard metal of the many rings she is wearing. At the squeeze the woman looks back inquisitively, but she just smiles when she sees Marlene is still there.
They break through the worst of the crowd to see Regulus leaning against the wall next to James. They’re talking, and James is laughing and the sight of it finally allows her to draw in a full breath again. The woman doesn’t stop, but marches straight up to Regulus with Marlene in tow, only releasing her hand when they’ve come to a stop in front of him.
“Dorcas,” Regulus goes, relaxed smile on his face, “are you having fun? Did your parents show?”
“Yeah, they were just there but they’ve left already,” the woman, Dorcas apparently, explains impatiently. “Listen, I found – uhm,” she continues, before turning to Marlene with an apologetic smile, “sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Marlene,” Marlene supplies, holding her hand up to shake just to feel that soft palm beneath her own again, “pleasure.” Now that she’s here, with her friends and away from the drinks, she feels much more in control of herself. It feels a bit silly, how affected she’d been. Nevertheless, she tries to make up her bad first impression by ticking up the charm now, smiling in that way she knows works on people, the left side of her lips curving up more than the right.
Dorcas grips her hand softly, eyes going to her lips for a fraction of a second before shooting up to look at her again. “Dorcas. The pleasure is all mine.” Does Marlene imagine it, or does she sweep her eyes over her body after?
“Right,” Regulus interrupts them when they’ve been staring in each other’s eyes for several seconds. They hastily let go of the other’s hand to turn to Regulus again. He looks less than impressed, crossing his arms. “You found Marlene. Congratulations?”
“Oh, right. Yeah, she asked for you, looked a bit out of sorts. Though I suppose you’re good now, aren’t you?” That last bit she directs to Marlene, voice going a little softer, a little lower in pitch. Marlene smiles to herself, because she’s no fool; she knows when she is being flirted with.
Marlene is just gearing up to say something flirty back, something like with someone like you around, how couldn’t I be?, but James has straightened up in alarm and cuts between them, peering over their shoulders like he can spot the threat in the crowd.
“Out of sorts? Are you okay? Did something happen?” he asks, getting in between her and the crowd like he can shield her from whatever is out there. He turns back from where he was scanning the area behind them to run his eyes over Marlene.
“No, there was –” Marlene stops abruptly, sliding her eyes over to Dorcas. She wants to explain herself, about the drinks and the temptation, if only to prevent herself from changing her mind. Her friends will keep an eye on her, she knows, and interfere if she makes stupid decisions (she has a pretty low opinion of herself; she doesn’t even realize that she’s making all the right decisions and that she’s actually very capable of handling it herself. Still, it’s good that she’s asking for help). However, she also wants to impress Dorcas, and she doesn’t think admitting to being an alcoholic will make a very good first impression. “There were a lot of people,” she sheepishly continues, feeling lame but unable to think of an alternative explanation on the spot.
Dorcas just nods though, looking like this is a perfectly normal response. Regulus is squinting at her in thought, still leaning against the wall. There’s a second or two in which they just look the other in the eye, Regulus assessing and Marlene begging silently not to bring it up. At the end of it Regulus just looks away from her, gaze sliding to Dorcas instead. Marlene thinks he’s going to say something about it, maybe offer an explanation, but he just asks her about her part of the exhibition, which launches them into a whole conversation.
James takes the moment to lean into her a little bit. “Are you really okay?” he checks, eyes intent. Marlene glances at Dorcas, but she’s still deep in conversation with Regulus, now leaning next to him as they both crane their necks to look at something he points out in the distance.
“Yeah, don’t worry. Someone offered me a drink and I had a little moment, but I’m fine now.”
James bobs his head, looking away from her. “Good, that’s good,” he says, and then Regulus and Dorcas swoop in front of them, looking strangely giddy with bright eyes and grins. It looks sort of funny, because the childish excitement looks so at odds to Regulus’ suit and Dorcas’ whole ethereal appearance.
“We’re going to talk to McGonagall about something, we’ll be back later,” Regulus rushes out, and then they are gone, leaving James and Marlene blinking at their backs.
“Well,” James finally says, when the crowd has swallowed the two of them up, “want to stick with me for a little bit?”
“Sure,” Marlene says, and James holds out his arm to her, bowing a bit like they’re in the sixties and he’s asking her to dance. Marlene does a clumsy little curtsy with a laugh, holding her imaginary skirt to the sides. She hooks her arm in his and James strolls away to look at another stretch of wall with her, all the while giving commentary on everything in a funny voice until Marlene has a stitch in her side from laughing so hard.
That’s how Dorcas and Regulus find them again, Marlene snorting with laughter as James analyses a painting of a landscape mock seriously, hand on his chin like he’s stroking a goatee.
“And if you look at it like this,” he’s saying, holding out his other hand in a V-shape and tilting it along one of the trees, “you can actually see that the artist painted this to show his struggle to accept himself, as represented by the crying face you can see in the trees if you squint.” Marlene is laughing too hard to try it, actual tears in her eyes.
“Actually,” an amused voice goes behind them, “the artist just wanted to paint this because the assignment was to paint a place you find peaceful.”
Feeling caught, Marlene and James whirl around to find Dorcas there, Regulus behind her biting down a smile. After a second of surprise though, Dorcas’ words catch up to her and Marlene falls into another helpless bout of laughter, which sets off James too.
“I’m sorry,” Marlene goes, wiping the tears from her eyes, “we were fucking around. Is this your part, then?”
Dorcas nods, looking off to Regulus for a second before cutting her eyes back to Marlene with a startling intensity. When she speaks, it’s with a devious smile and that same low tone she used before. “Would you like a tour?”
James is nodding enthusiastically beside her before she can answer, but he’s whisked away by Regulus at the speed of light, gone into the crowd before Marlene can process the movement. Dorcas’ eyes don’t stray from hers, the eye contact so intense that it genuinely takes her breath away for a second. Instead of answering, she breathlessly nods. When Dorcas offers Marlene her elbow in the same way James did jokingly before, Marlene shyly takes it, feeling like a character in a movie and infinitely pleased about it.
Dorcas leads her past the entire wall slowly, taking her time to explain all the pieces with slow sweeping gestures. Her voice is low and calm, speaking slowly but not too slowly, exactly the sort of pace that makes you hang onto every word, eager to know what comes next but not slow enough to make you lose interest. Marlene, for her part, asks question and points at things and flirts a little bit, maybe, but mostly she listens, enraptured by the other woman.
They bump into Mary and Lily on the way, but even that doesn’t pull Marlene’s attention away aside from a short hello. By the time they reach the last drawing of Dorcas’ on the wall, Marlene is surprised to find that more than an hour has passed and the crowd has dwindled to only a few stragglers.
“Marlene!” James calls, walking over from where the rest of their friends are talking in a group. “Are you coming? We’re ready to go.”
It’s with regret that Marlene slowly untangles their arms (which have been pressed together for so long now that her arm feels cold without the steadying presence of Dorcas’). She turns to Dorcas with a small smile, and fully ignores James, who’s come to a stop several strides away from them.
“I had a good time, Dorcas,” she admits, adding in her name just for the way it feels to say it.
Dorcas smiles back, a curious glint in her eyes. “Me too, Marlene.” Her mouth wraps around her name like a caress, that smooth tone like music in Marlene’s ears. From the corner of her eye she sees James hastily retreat.
“Would you want to go for coffee sometime?” Marlene shoots her shot, pretty confident by now because there’s just no way she’s misinterpreted all of the last hour. Indeed, Dorcas’ smile ticks up a little, and she sounds amused when she agrees. They exchange numbers, Marlene putting her contact under the name Marlene (hot blonde), and then bid each other goodnight.
The others tease her, of course, when she gets back to the group, but she flips them the bird and shyly watches Dorcas leave. When Dorcas looks back she resists the urge to look away, and instead gives her a sharp grin. Dorcas watches her do it with a serene sort of gaze that makes Marlene’s hearts skip a beat, and then she’s gone and there’s only Sirius waggling his eyebrows at her as the rest starts walking towards the car park.
-----
They go out for coffee the very next day. Marlene wears her skinny jeans and leather jacket and styles her hair for about thirty minutes before she goes out, but she’s still outshined by Dorcas in her black skirt and purple top which shows the pouch of her lower belly. Her braids are down now, framing her face and highlighting the silver of her dangly earrings. She’s already sitting at a table when Marlene gets there, but she gets up to greet her warmly, kissing her on the cheek and lingering for a moment.
They sit and drink a cappuccino (or a cappuccino for Marlene and a mint tea for Dorcas, who admits that she’s not much of a coffee drinker at all. Marlene splutters why she’s agreed to go out for coffee, and they laugh when Dorcas admits that it’s because she just wanted to do something with Marlene), and then another and then another. And then, because they are still talking about Dorcas’ classes and her art and Marlene’s job and the increase in her rent, they decide to take a walk in the park nearby. They walk and talk until their legs are tired and dusk starts to set and they realize that it’s actually seven already and they’ve been talking for close to five hours.
When they walk past a cozy little bistro Marlene’s stomach grumbles, and they fall into a fit of laughter about it, clutching at each other even though it’s not that funny. It’s just nice to laugh together, and Marlene has found that Dorcas’ laugh is very contagious. When the laughter finally tapers off Dorcas pulls her inside, and they sit down at a little table with a red and white checkered table cloth and a little candle burning in the middle. Marlene is warm and happy and slightly flushed from the increase in temperature, and so when the waiter comes and offers them the wine menu she doesn’t panic at all, but politely declines. Dorcas closes her mouth from where she was going to say something of her own, and studies Marlene for a beat. Then, with a kind smile, she declines as well, and they both order a soda before the waiter sweeps away.
“You don’t drink?” Dorcas kindly asks as they’re both studying the menu. It’s mostly pizzas and pastas, Italian cuisine, which is good because Dorcas told Marlene at the start of their date that she’s a vegetarian and there are loads of vegetarian options. The question makes her heart beat a little faster, a little louder, but she doesn’t shy away from it.
“Nope,” she answers casually, popping the p. This conversation, at least, she’s had before. This is something she can navigate. Still, it’s slightly more nerve-wracking for the simple reason that she wants to keep Dorcas around, and so cares about her opinion. She desperately wants to change the subject, like she would with literally anyone else, but something holds her back. Somewhere, deep down, she wants Dorcas to know this about her. The courage is not all there yet, so she doesn’t elaborate but hopes quietly that Dorcas will not let this drop.
She doesn’t.
“Oh? Any particular reason?” Marlene surreptitiously takes a breath, gearing herself up. Dorcas doesn’t look like she finds it odd at all, open and curious.
“I’ve – I’m sober. I have been for about a year,” she says, because a year sounds loads better than ten months and also like she hasn’t been counting the days since she quit (which she has, obviously, but that sounds sort of desperate and she doesn’t want that). She studies Dorcas intently for any sign of which way this might go.
Her facial expression doesn’t change at all, that same warm smile on her face, maybe even slightly warmer. Her tone is warm too, when she says, “congratulations, that must’ve been hard.”
A weight falls off Marlene’s shoulders (subconsciously, she’d been holding herself back because something in the back of her mind had been screaming at her all day that there was no way that this beautiful woman would still like her if she’d show that part of herself. It’s not often that it’s a relief not to be right, but here she gladly accepts defeat), and she finds herself laughing and talking even more freely for the rest of the night. They eat their pizzas, and when they leave they drag their feet all the way to the metro. They linger for thirty more minutes before they decide to fuck it all and just go home together.
They spend the evening on Marlene’s couch, watching tv and occasionally making out, and they fall asleep together in Marlene’s small little twin sized bed, and the next day Marlene drops Dorcas off at her classes before she goes into work. When she gets there she checks her phone before putting it away and she finds three new texts from Dorcas.
Before lunch, three of her coworkers have asked her why she is smiling so much, some more unnerved than others.
-----
It’s hard work, being sober. People don’t realize this, but it is a conscious decision not to drink, every hour of every day. It’s true that it does get easier, as time goes by, because you get more nimble in turning it down when people offer and because you avoid situations which you know are difficult. However, it’s always an uphill battle, one other people aren’t even aware you are fighting.
Marlene relapses after two years of being sober.
It’s at an office party, which makes sense because it’s the only aspect of her life that she’s distanced from her sobriety. Not in the sense that she’s not sober at work, obviously, but in the sense that she’s never talked about it with her coworkers of managers because it’s frankly none of their business. Now though, it is a problem because there is no one there to hold her accountable. She doesn’t blame them for it, but she is slightly bitter about how alcohol is so normalized in society that her coworkers don’t think twice about dumping a glass of white wine in front of her without asking.
From the moment the drink is set in front of her, she’s out of the conversation. Nothing exists anymore, except the long-stemmed glass, condensation on the outside of it. She watches with trepidation as a drop of it slides down the side and drops on the table. Her heart is pounding, and her mind is full of white static.
She shouldn’t, of course. She knows this. But God, this is the first time in two years that she’s been this close to alcohol. She’s learned by now how to be around it, how to see others have a glass of wine or a pint without indulging, and she’s become a pro at turning a drink down without killing the mood. But she’s never had a drink of her own, one she could reach out and touch.
She does so now, gingerly taking the glass in hand. It’s cold against her fingers, and slightly wet, and when she leans the foot of it against her knee it leaves a dark circle on her jeans. Her coworkers burst out laughing around her, temporarily pulling her out of her thoughts. Weakly, she laughs along even though she’s not sure what it is about.
She sips the wine, then. The decision is not even a conscious one; she just has the glass in hand and her muscle memory fills in the gap. It’s a dry wine, a sweet undertone to it that makes her mouth fill with saliva as soon as she swallows that first sip. The sip is followed by a spike of panic so sharp that it feels like she reacts physically, but her coworkers don’t look at her so it must not have been as visceral as she thought.
She dumps the glass back on the table, hand shaking a little, as she wipes her mouth with the other. What has she done? She wants to fidget or leave, but she doesn’t want to look weird. Her coworkers already find her slightly odd, she knows, with her lip piercing and her mullet and her make up. Pretty much everyone else at her boring desk job is middle aged, most of them women with kids in school. They tolerate her, and try to include her but she knows there’s something missing, something they notice too. She doesn’t want to widen the gap by being weird as fuck during the office party, and so she stays put.
She tries to engage in conversation, but the drink is taunting her. What bad could it do? A voice in her head whispers, one she hasn’t heard in a long time. She tries to ignore it, but it keeps talking, low and soft but very persistent. In the end, there’s one thing she can’t argue against. You’ve already fucked up, might as well make the most of it before you have to go back to nothing.
She caves. She grabs the glass, and, carefully watching the people around her, drinks it at the same pace as the others. When Sarah from accounting comes by with the bottle for a refill, she nudges her glass in Sarah’s direction.
The thing is, alcohol makes her more social. Where before she was sitting at the sidelines of the conversation, listening to her coworkers talk, now she’s inserted herself, talking along and laughing at what they say. She sees some of them exchanging looks, approving ones, those types that say oh look at her, there may be some hope yet. It’s one of the reasons she fell into its trap in the first place, all those years ago.
When she bids her coworkers goodbye, bundled up in her coat because it’s cold as balls out, she’s pleasantly buzzed on four glasses of wine. The last time she drank her tolerance was so high that she didn’t even feel it until nearly a full bottle was gone, so she’s surprised at how hard these drinks are hitting her now. She giggles at herself.
Only then, walking to the metro laughing to herself, does the shame set in. The small smile that was on her face drops like a stone, and she stumbles a little before she stops walking altogether, because the realization hits her like a fucking wrecking ball. How could she have been so stupid?
She wraps her arms around herself, the cold making her shiver. How can she tell her friends? How can she tell Dorcas? Shit, Dorcas is waiting for her right now at home, and she’s going to have to go face her right now. Should she lie? Keep it to herself? Hope Dorcas doesn’t notice?
Who is she fooling. She saw her own face in the mirror just half an hour ago, blown pupils and flushed cheeks. She smells of it too, she knows. There is no way in hell Dorcas won’t notice the minute she gets in. She buries her head in her hands for a hot minute, feeling every bit of shame wash over her so intensely she just wants to drop dead on the spot.
Then, because she’s learned a lot in the last couple of years, she drops her arms and lets out an explosive breath. She can do this. It’s a setback, a major one, but she can deal with it just like all the others she’s had. She pulls out her phone. There’s only one person to call right now.
Lily picks up on the second ring.
“Marlene!” she greets happily, and Marlene bites her lip because she hates being the one to ruin her good mood. “Everything alright?”
She bites the bullet. “No. I fucked up, Lily.”
There’s silence on the other end for a second, and then Lily, sounding very weary, says, “you’ve been drinking?”
The guilt chokes Marlene. She hasn’t heard that tone of voice in so long, and it makes her feel so very small. It takes her back to when she was twenty and so lost. “I’m sorry,” she pushes out, and there’s a sigh on the other end of the line.
“You don’t have to say sorry to me, Marlene. It’s okay, I swear, you just caught me off guard for a second. Do you need me to come get you from somewhere?”
Marlene shuffles her feet. Lily doesn’t have a car, and it would take her more than half an hour to get to Marlene. She doesn’t even know why she called in the first place, other than that she felt the pressing urge to confess and there’s no one better to confess to than her oldest friend.
“No, it’s fine. I just – I wanted to tell someone,” she admits quietly, slowly starting back up again. “I wanted to tell you,” she amends then, because she could’ve called anyone but there was really no one else on her mind.
“Well, thank you for telling me, Marls,” Lily says after a pause, and then, “are you good to go home on your own?”
Marlene realizes that for all Lily knows, she might be five sheets to the wind by now, and rushes to clarify. “Yeah, I haven’t even drank much, it just feels so shitty to have done it at all.”
“Okay. Get home safe, yeah? Text me when you get there.” Her voice is warm and fond again, like the little lapse didn’t happen. Marlene doesn’t blame her for it. She knows how hard it’s been for her friends, first to watch her make a mess of everything and then to see her make stupid decisions from time to time. It’s never good to see your friends suffer.
She looks at her phone after she’s hung up to see she has a text from Dorcas waiting for her. How was it? See you in a bit x. It makes the regret rise, but Marlene pushes it down. She’ll survive. With renewed sense of purpose, she strides of to the metro.
When she gets home, she spends a few moments in front of the door just breathing, preparing herself for what lies ahead. By now the buzz has worn off, and it all feels even more stupid than before, and she can’t even remember why she succumbed to the drink in the first place.
“Honey?” Dorcas says as soon as she gets in, before she’s even closed the door. She appears in the hallway in her pyjamas, bonnet on and content smile on her face. The guilt must be clear as day on Marlene’s face, because Dorcas’ expression turns to worry in a heartbeat. She strides over, grabbing Marlene by the shoulders to get a good look at her. “Hey, what is it?”
“I –” Marlene starts, but she can’t get it out because she doesn’t want to. She wants to remain in the before, and saying it out loud would shatter all of that. Dorcas figures it out though, and her expression crumples.
“Oh, honey, come here,” she goes, holding open her arms and Marlene falls into them without hesitation. There’s a few tears too, ones she didn’t even notice were trying to get out but apparently they were because they’re very insistent now. “Shhh, you’re fine, you’re safe,” Dorcas soothes her, smoothing a hand over her hair.
“I’m sorry,” Marlene goes, and it sounds suspiciously like a sob.
“No, no, don't be, Marlene, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Hey, look at me,” Dorcas refutes, waiting for Marlene to look at her to continue. “These things happen, honey. I know it sucks, but they do.”
Marlene nods helplessly, some more tears falling from her eyes. Dorcas wipes them away with her thumbs, her hands lingering on her face. “It doesn’t matter to me. It matters what you do now, okay?”
Marlene falls into her, letting the familiar feel and scent of her girlfriend soothe her. Dorcas takes her to the bathroom, helping her wash her face and brush her teeth before they go to bed. Normally, Marlene is the big spoon but today she just wants to be held, so they fall asleep with Dorcas folded around her like a protective blanket.
-----
On Tuesday evening, Marlene goes to a familiar school gym, the same way she has gone the week and the month and the year before. She greets Alice and Pomona and many other faces as she always does, and grabs herself a cup of tea and a biscuit. When the floor opens, she gets up, wipes her hands of the crumbs and walks up to the front.
“Hi everyone, my name is Marlene, and I’ve been sober for four days.”