Your Little Bit Of Good

Into the brick wall of Helsinki winter I went from the warmth of my home, not bothering to dress in proper winter attire because I knew that where I was going would provide more warmth than any old parka would.

The cold seeped through my shoes and penetrated the meek fibers of my jacket much too quickly for my liking, an awful contrast of my house but even worse when compared to the Texas heat I was pining for still.

The mere thought of alchohol, burning in my throat and churning in my stomach ignited a dead sprint, but I slid to a stop once I was standing outside of the liquor store. A smidgen of will-power, that I was really wishing had kicked in before I had left my house, briefly prevented me from going inside but couldn't force me to turn around and go home. Through the frosted windows I noticed hundreds of bottles doing exactly what they were supposed to do on their designated shelves. The taunted me until I was in pain, standing still in the bitter cold struggling to focus on staying sober while the demons in my body, quite contrare, were trying my hardest to make me focus on getting wasted.

I tried praying like I used to do but couldn't manage this time. I was still to upset with God for taking away my mother the week before to believe he would do any favors for me.

Soon, the scales tipped against sobriety and I lifted my foot to step forward. Once my foot came down, the crunching of snow and the sound of my name rang in my ears.

"Anjilika, get in the car." someone said sternly from behind.

Before even checking to see who it was calling my name, I stumbled backwards until I was far enough away from that store to regain composure. I got into the passengers side of that jet-black BMW feeling relieved that I had been saved, yet dissapointed that I wouldn't be getting drunk.

"Anjilika, what were you thinking?" my savior asked, his voice laced with sentiment.

Finally , I turned to the driver and came face to face with someone I had been wondering about for quite some time. I had wondered if his sobriety was going as poor as mine, if he was weak enough to let himself dream about booze as many times as I had.

"Oh, Ville." I whimpered pathetically, feeling very ashamed of myself.

Why did we have to run into each other now? Why couldn't he have spotted me at the market, buying food for my dog or a gallon of milk like normal people do?

"Why were you at that store?" he demanded.

"Look, its just been a bad day and I wanted a drink, okay?!" I sniped, clawing at my knees and glaring shamefully at the dash when I said this.

"No, it's not okay. Don't talk to me like I'm stupid. I know that you're not just gonna have one lousy drink after a one-year's relapse. When you have a bad day, then just talk to someone about it. Talk to me. What's happening?"

My eyes met with his deep pools of molten emerald and I was brough to tears.

"I just got back from burying my mother, back in Texas."

He sighed and pulled off of the sidewalk so he could accelerate onto the road.

"And Boomer's gone too. I asked my neighbor to feed him and let him out everyday, and now he's gone."

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear about your mother. But drinking will never bring her back. And as for your dog, the only thing that will bring him back is you. Have you looked?"

I stayed silent. I didn't want to tell him that I only looked as far as my backyard before heading to the store, but he could guess on his own. Ville and I met in rehab the year before. We coached one another through it but had to go our separate ways once it was over. He could still read me like a book.

"So, pretty much, we've got all of the city to search?" he grinned but not too widely, knowing that I wasn't in the mood to return such a gesture.

"Yes." I sniped, as if it were his fault I had brought such shame upon myself.

He cleared his throat. "And what type of dog is Boomer?"

"Saint Bernard."

He glared to me kindly. "Well darling, I'll keep a well enough lookout that you can shut your eyes for a minute. You need it."

I could have declined and stayed up with him; After all, it was him that was helping me. But I was too damn tired and too damn upset to decline. Not acknowledging that Ville was sitting directly next to me, I cried myself to sleep.

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"Anjilika, look whose back!"

Those words barely woke me up. It was the drool being mercilessly lathered over my face that finally did it. My eyes shot open to meet those of a cheery Saint Bernard. I only let myself feel relief for a split second. After that, it was sheer disgust in myself. I got lucky this time, but the next time Boomer ran away could be his last if I gave up my search pre-maturely just for a drink.

Ashamed of myself, I laid down again and only extended my arm to scratch under Boomer's chin. I realized that we were laying on my bed.

"Thanks for comin' back, boy." I whispered, letting a few tears stray again.

Ville, whom my attention had completely bypassed, laid next to me and pulled the covers over us. He used that same arm to hold me and the other to pet my hair.

I was tense for a minute. This was exactly where we had left off. But I had never expected us to ever end up like that again.

I thought it was a once in a lifetime thing, us connecting so well. We were stuck together in rehab, forced to get along and feeling obliged to help one another accept sobriety. But once it was all over and we were living normal lives, he was a famous rockstar heart-throb and I was just a silly American girl gone bad again.

"Ville... thanks." was all I could say as he comforted me.

I guess all I had thought about us was wrong.

"Wouldn't you do the same for me?" he asked quietly, breathing on the back of my neck and making the hair stand up.

"Me? Absolutely. But... I was not expecting you to even remember me, to be honest."

He seemed to be offended by this and leaned over me so I could see his face. He was more hurt than anything.

"You were my first good memory of sobriety." he began. "You're the reason I've stayed sober. Even though we haven't been close, I feel like we're still in this together. I love you for that, Anjilika. I know things are terrible for you right now. I know that, now that your mother is gone, you feel like there's nothing else good to stay sober for. But if you want me to be your little bit of good, I will."

I tilted my head in confusion so he knew to elaborate.

"Would you like to start seeing each other more? Would you like to go on an actual date instead of just eating our sandwiches together in the cafeteria?" he asked me.

I let my eyes fall from him to the nothingness at the far end of the room. Seeing Ville more would be something to help me. But I wasn't looking for a date in any way, although I had always had feelings for him. It was so soon after my mothers passing that I still needed a few weeks before starting any new relationships.

"I don't know if I'm ready to date right now... " I whimpered, unable to make eye contact.

"That's fine, love. I'll be here until you are. I want to help you with whatever comes your way."

I was overwhelmed with what he had said. I could only hug him in gratitude. I wondered if he could be the ounce of good that could finally turn me towards sobriety. You can only wait and see.