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Alfred POV"Alfred? You haven't presented yet."Arthur's voice somehow slices right through the many cotton balls crowding my brain. I look around at everyone seated at the oval table, all with varying degrees of boredom and the same impatient, expectant expression.This is fucking stupid. Fucking stupid.My jaw clenches, fists tightening in my sleeves as I shuffle up to the front of the room, booting up my computer and pulling up a PowerPoint presentation."Is it just me, amigo, or is Alfred... really not himself?"I hear Anton whispering to Mattie and resist the urge to growl.I ramble on through my presentation, barely holding it together. One slide. Two. Three. Now it's fucking over. Fucking finally.With a slight tremor in my voice, I address Francis, who is leading the meeting. "Yo Francis, I'm going to run some errands. I'll be back."He nods, winking. "Of course, Amerique. Don't get lost."Playfully rolling my eyes at him, I leave.The hallway is too long. Much too long. Breaking out into a run, I pass right by room after room, stopping abruptly when I see the elevator open.Ducking behind a door left ajar, I wait for the person to pass, not daring to breathe until the sound of their jingling keys is gone. I dash back out into the hallway, passing right by the elevator and heading for the stairs.I'm met with two locked French doors that have a sign in French saying, "Stairs closed for maintenance. Please take stairs in West Wing or take the elevator."I suddenly can't breathe properly. I have to take the elevator. I fucking hate elevators.The elevator doors slowly close on me as I cling to the wall, fingers tracing over the rosary around my neck. I always have it on, even on business days, always hidden under my button up shirts."Alfred."Startling, I look around for the source of the voice, but finding no one, of course. I'm alone in the elevator. I'm alone. No one else is here with me. I'm just hearing things, as usual.An eternity later, the elevator finally stops, and I practically leap out of there, taking in large gulps of air. I lean on the wall, head leaned back, taking deep breaths. "Why were the stairs blocked off?!"After weaving through people and letting the guards scan my ID card at the door, I make a run for it to my car, trying to not burst into uncontrollable nervous laughter as I unlock it and climb inside. I double lock the doors and roll up every bulletproof window except for the driver's side, to let cigarette smoke escape as I drive.The world blurs past me as I pull out of the parking lot and zoom away to where my hotel room is. With one hand, I light a cigarette, sticking it right between my teeth. One pull off the death stick later, and I'm laughing with relief. The radio is crooning some song by Radiohead, and the sun is shining.My Bluetooth goes off, and I hear a call coming in. Making a rather feral irritated noise, I press the button to let it through. I sigh in relief when I hear Mattie's voice. My exhaling is followed by more inane laughter. Jesus, I really need to get myself together."Hey, Alfred. When do you think you'll be back?"I'm trying so hard not to laugh, but it's like holding back tics. I mean, it's kinda the same thing at this point. "Oh, you know...""Alfred...you know this meeting is important..."Turning the corner, I take another pull off Le Death Stick. "I know, I know. Hahahaha! I'm just going home to do stuff.""Bro. Why are you laughing? It's not necessarily a laughing matter, it's about the trade deals.""Okay, one to ten, how badly do you need me there?""Uh...like a six. But that does not mean you can just shirk off! Alfred! Bro. Where's your head at?! Are you listening to me?""I'll be back. I got shit to do, Mattie. Bye. Give Che a big ole kiss for me, would ya?"With that, I hang up the phone, giggling as I turn left off of the highway.The hotel is pleasantly buzzing with snippets of conversation in French and patrons entering and exiting. The lobby is nearly empty as I cross to the front desk, cigarette long gone in an ashtray in my car.The receptionist nods at me as I hold up my ID, granting me access in crisp French. I answer back in the language, my inflection nearly identical.My hotel room is cozy and warm when I enter, courtesy of the old fashioned heater attached to the wall.After locking and re-locking the door behind me and checking the windows, I open the refrigerator to retrieve my poison. My breath hitches when I see that I only have one bottle of whiskey left.Bitch, you can't drink on your goddamn pills.I growl under my breath. "Fuck!"Fuck you too.Grumbling, I open the cupboard where I'm temporarily keeping my medication. "I'll just take another fucking pill then."I swallow it dry with no water, humming loudly as I warm up some leftover pizza. The microwave makes me impatient, and I end up eating the pizza cold. A painful bout of hunger takes hold of me, and suddenly I'm digging through the trash for food.Vmmm-vmmm.My phone vibrates on the counter next to me, scaring the living shit out of me. I yell and fall to the floor in hysterical laughter. "FUCKITY FUCK NUGGETS!"I answer the phone, putting the call through Alexa. "Hello, whoever had the audacity to call me.""Alfred, cut the bullshit. It's me, Doctor-""Oh shit, Doc, I'm really sorry. Go on.""As I was saying. We are very sorry to inform you, your insurance can no longer cover your medication."I stop excitedly dancing in place and freeze, my breathing almost complete stopping."I am very sorry, Alfred."I hang up the phone, head in my hands. Then, I'm on the floor laughing so hard it hurts.When I've recovered from my laugh attack, I pack up my belongings. I'd better head out of here and go back home. None of the other nations can see me like this."Alfred.."I'm able to find my private jet and fly back home. I can easily drive it myself, but as of right now, I don't trust myself alone with an airborne vehicle.My driver's buddy who tags along with us sometimes, Eddie, is sitting in the other chair across from me, whistling some tune I can't identify at the moment. He looks like he walked straight out of a 90s grunge magazine. Hell, the dude even looks like Kurt Cobain but with black hair instead of blonde.Eddie gives me a half formed smile and a single raised eyebrow as he watches me playing with an old set of komboloi. "You look rough, dude."My eye involuntarily twitches, bringing along a shudder in my shoulders. The meds are already wearing off, and so my tics commence. "Great o-observation. Are you Sherlock now? Does that make me Watson?""Uh huh. Ooh-kay. Lemme guess, your meds ran out again?""This wouldn't be so bad if I could just fucking smoke but I've done that before. I've smoked in a plane. It went down, there was flames, screaming, moaning, everything. I still have the f-fucking scars if you wanna see the-""You're having withdrawals, aren't you?"I feel sweat beading on my forehead. I can't keep my body from twitching now. The pain and pressure is building up in my chest faster than I can release the tics. "N-no, this happens when I'm off the meds, you know that, dude.""You just hit the point and then ran right past it while eating a cheeseburger. Don't pout at me like that, it's literally all you eat. That's what I'm sayin, Al. I think the meds are causin' the withdrawals."My stomach growls at the mention of cheeseburgers. I really try to focus, but now all I can think of is a fresh, warm-Eddie's fingers snap in front of my face. I jump and that's when I remember that we were in a serious conversation. "Uh...med withdrawals, right, Edward?""It's Eddie, for the last fucking time. And yes. Anyway. Every time you're off the medication, you're really sick. You shake all the time, you're super fucking cranky, you're either compulsively eating or puking, and sometimes you have to call off stuff you planned."I wrinkle my nose. "It's not that bad when I'm off them."Eddie leans forward, eyes widened for emphasis. "Alfred. Yeah it is."I let that sink in, gnawing on my lower lip. I've been wearing at the spot over the last three hours, to the point that I taste iron now. "Well shit. So I'm addicted to my meds?"Eddie's face is pinched with something I can't recognize in my current state. All I can think is that he looks like a hassled mother. "Alfie, if you're gettin' addicted to them, they ain't helpin you."My mind begins to spin. Everything is spinning. My head is a merry go round going way too fast. "Slow down.""You want the jet to slow down? We're really high up over some mountains, buddy, it ain't happeni-"The record player of my thoughts keeps going faster, faster, fucking faster, until...it scratches to a stop. The same words are coming out of my mouth, the same phrase repeated over and over."Alfie, can you take a deep breath, bud? Shit.""Bitch bitch fucking.""Why's his stupid alien on here?! Alfred, we gotta talk about the weird creatures you keep befriending.""Bitch fucking fucking.""Did you hear that?!"Tony hops into my lap, staring right into my eyes with his oddly shaped ones. "Bitch....bitch....bitch..."I feel an odd heat...and then, out of fucking nowhere, I'm back. My hands are trembling, I'm really confused and can't remember how I got here, but I'm back. "Thanks, Tony.""Fucking fucking!"The little extraterrestrial guy hugs me with his skinny arms, and then dashes off back to whatever he was doing. Even I don't know what he does when I'm not watching. "I owe you one, Tones.""You're literally so fucking weird. Is this why none of your friends are human?"I frown at him, and then my eyes go wide in alarm. "You're not human?!"Eddie actually slaps himself in the face. I wince at how loud it is. "No, Alfie. I'm human, okay? Shit, I know that look. How about you take a nice long nap?"I cross my arms. "No.""You'll feel so much better~"Wordlessly, I shake my head No."What if you had angel milk beforehand? Huh? We could put vanilla in it too~"I feel myself beginning to cave. Angel milk really sounds nice. I really want some. But I'm not taking a nap and I always have angel milk before taking a nap. "No...""Alright. Let me know if you want any, though."I nod, zipping my jacket all the way up to my chin and taking my arms out of the sleeves. Hugging myself around my stomach under the warm, cozy jacket, I curl up in my seat and look out the window. We're over a mountain range, a beautiful painting of reds and browns and oranges and greens that I wish I could paint myself. "Pretty!"Soothing lofi music blooms in my background hearing, slowly rising in a crescendo.I slowly drift off to sleep, head resting against the window.~~~~~~~~~~~~~The apartment is dark and cold when I let myself in. One of the other tenants, my neighbor Jim, shakes his head at me, stopping in the middle of the stairs to regard me. I tilt my head slightly, wondering why he has that pitying look on his face. "Why the long face?"Jim sighs, a long, sad one. "They at least had the decency to put your stuff outside the door in bags."I hit my hand on the banister, not even caring when a loose rusty nail tears through my palm. "SHIT!""Alfred, your hand!"I don't give a shit about my bleeding hand as I run down the hallway, arriving at my apartment. Sure enough, all my stuff is in white garbage bags, stacked on top of each other. Luckily, I didn't have much in this apartment, but that doesn't mean I don't still feel like I just got kicked right in the nuts.My phone rings right as I'm hauling all my stuff into my car. Jim helps, watching with crossed arms and a pensive expression as I slam the hatch and slump against it, lighting a cigarette.I scoff when he's still looking at me ten minutes later. "Whaddayou lookin at?"Jim’s arms are crossed like a disapproving father. “I’m lookin’ at you, Al. Are you plannin’ on drinkin’ that whole thing before you drive?”Downing the rest of it, I crush the empty can right against my skull and toss it in the nearest trash can. “Yep. So uh, I guess I won’t be seein’ ya much anymore. You want my phone number or whatever?”I find a Taco Bell napkin in my jacket pocket and scribble my number down with a Sharpie.He folds it up, inserting it gently in his front breast pocket. “Thanks, Al. I’ll definitely keep in touch. Where are you headin’ now?”Blowing air out of my cheeks, I take another hit off my cigarette. “I was thinkin’ of North Dakota or something.”He affectionately slaps my shoulder. "Let me know when you get halfway, will ya?”I manage a smile. “Of course.”He nods, looking relieved. “Good. Be careful out there, kid.”I get into my old Lincoln, winking at Jim as I gun the engine. “Same to you, old fella.”Indiana is soon far behind me hours later. I keep driving, never looking behind me. The sun migrates across the sky from east to west, occasionally obscured by clouds, ducking behind tall buildings and trees.Around 2pm, my hand begins to uncontrollably shake, and it’s then I realize, I have no alcohol in my car.Tucked in a foothill in the Iowa plains and endless corn fields, I finally find a liquor store.I head in, counting my cash as I peruse the aisles. After filling up my arms with bottles, I let the cashier scan my shit.The young woman gives me a raised eyebrow as she scans my Jack Daniels. I fidget in place, not meeting her eyes."Your total is $40.66."I pay with all my cash, bid her goodbye, and leave.All my alcohol sits in the back of the car, save for a cocktail of pepsi and Mike's in the front cupholder.The sun is getting real low in the sky. And I'm really craving angel milk. Damn my fucking weakness for angel milk.It gets dark out. The huge fucking ball of nuclear fission in the sky sinks lower and lower on the horizon, spreading beautiful sunset pinks and oranges and reds like Bob Ross's paint brush. Damn, I miss that guy.My eyes are getting heavy. The alcohol must finally be hitting me now. Well, I guess I’ll find a fuckin’ hotel then.I can already tell it’s getting too close to my bedtime. I really want some goddamn angel milk. Not even good milk or anything, I’d take sour milk with corn syrup at this point.I find a Holiday’s Inn in a little prairie town. After paying and checking in, I lock my door, draw the blinds, and move my food into the fridge, my alcohol sitting safely in my trunk.The microwave works but beeps like a goddamn alarm clock. A paper coffee cup holds my angel milk just fine, despite being made of paper and flimsy.My long fuzzy socks are on under my old shitty corduroy pajama pants, my favorite dinosaur hoodie is on, and old lullabies in various languages play in my ears. I make a point to avoid anything remotely British, not wanting to think about those years, that specific British man.My phone goes off, playing a sound that's too loud. I cover my ears and swear before I remember that it's Canada.“Alfred! Thank maple you answered. Where the fuck did you go?! Are you back home?! Alfred?”I pout. My brother is swearing at me. And I'm a little too drunk to process it. "Don't be mad at me please? Hiiii, brother."“I, um, I’m not mad at you for leaving, dude. Are you drunk or something?”“No? Well...I mighta had beer earlier but I’m not that drunk.”“.....how much beer?! Did you drive?”“How else did I get to this hotel? Driving! Duh. I don’t like talking about this…”“Why not?! You’re clearly drunk right now! I think it’s a bit of a problem, Alfie..”“...wanna go to bed, Mattie…”“......”I yawn, trying to keep my eyes open. “....wanna go ta sleep..”“Alfred, are you okay?”“....I’m tired. I think I’mma sleep now.”“Of course, Al. Of course. You’d better, uh, sleep after all the driving and beer. I’ll call you in the morning?”“Yeah...yeah.”“Love ya, Alfie.”I mumble ‘I love you’ and hang up. Sleep claims me then at my bidding, stealing me away to a better world.
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Alfred POVI wake up shaking, spasms seizing my entire body in a tight vice and not releasing me. Withdrawals. I've got them bad.The effort it takes to drag myself out of bed and crash onto the floor to army crawl to the refrigerator is enormous. Sweat is dropping down my forehead and the bridge of my nose as I use the counter to get to a kneeling position. I can barely get the fucking door open and grab out the nearest bottle I can find, a bottle of Everclear.I'm so desperate to get my fix and stop this awful shaking that I spill the potent drink all over myself. "Dammit!"The withdrawals eventually cease, and I'm proper drunk before I realize...I can't take my medication now. Oh wait...it ran out.My phone goes off across the room. I stand up, still quite wobbly, and answer the call.One of my band mates answers the phone. "Hey, Al."Normally, I'd say something friendly. But I'm not sober right now. I'm kinda drunk off my fuckin' ass and let's just say... I'm interesting when drunk."Alfred? Are you there?"I want to crack a brilliant, genius joke or say the greatest one liner ever. But...I can't think of anything! My mind is blank, unable to scrounge up a coherent thought. "Is your... refrigerator running?""....your voice is very slurred, dude...."I scoff, slumping on the sofa. "Yeah? Your....your point?""You sound drunk. Very drunk.""Yeah. I am. Whaddya gonna do about it? Take my Everclear from me?""Alfred...we have a show this week."Sighing in frustration, I flop onto the couch. "I'm just trying to relax before the show.""Really."I nod, realizing too late he can't even see me. "I can't function without something in my system, dude. You know that."I hear an irritated noise. "Has it occurred to you that that's not healthy?"I'm about to hang up when he continues, "You're not alone, you know. You've got us. We could even cancel the show this week."Desperation suddenly seizes me, the alcohol only amplifying my emotions. "No! Dude! We've been working on this album for a year!""Alfred, we'd love to do it this week, trust me. But you're not okay. I don't think you should play this week."I'm sobbing before I can stop myself. "Noooo.. y'all can't do that..."This time I hang up for real, staying in my lazy position on the couch as I hold my phone to my chest. Awful feelings I've been trying to hold back are flooding me.An hour later, I'm still laying on the couch, pitiful and tearful as ever, when I hear a knock on the door. My phone then starts ringing. "Alfred? You awake?"I answer in a raspy voice, "Yeah. Sure. Come in."The guys enter my dingy apartment right as I'm tipping more booze to my lips. I hold the bottle by the neck, slumping back into the couch as they traipse in.The guy who called me, Lip, sighs and stares at the patchy carpet. Evan is looking at me with an unreadable expression. Shane just looks...sad?I clear my throat, not even bothering to sit up. "I'm drafting a song..."Lip shakes his head, eyes closed. "Alfred....."Holding up my good ol notebook, I go on, ignoring when I hiccup. "You get drunk enough, you know, you uh, you can write some profound shit."Shane gives a nervous chuckle. "You say that every time you get wasted."I sigh, nodding wordlessly as I look at the half-empty bottle in my hands. "You know....I kinda fucking hate living this way."Evan speaks up, preoccuping himself with tracing his finger along the wall. "You considering rehab?"With great effort, I make myself sit up, slumping over anyway as I look up at them, struggling to resist the urge to finish the bottle. "Whatever it takes."The poison in my hand wins over, and I swallow the rest of the stuff, gulp by gulp.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Six Months LaterThe sunlight in my eyes is dizzying as I walk up to the trailer the boys are staying in. I confidently knock on the door, shifting my backpack on my back.Lip answers, holding a Caprisun. His eyes widen and he drops it in shock, embracing me with one arm. "What the fuck?! He's back, y'all!"Laughing, I skip into the trailer, dropping my backpack on the floor. Shane is grinning ear to ear. "Aww look at 'im, he's smiling! So you're okay? You're good now?"I nod, bouncing on my toes. "YES!"Too excited to hold back anymore, I dig out my notebook. "I'm back for good, boys. And I think I have finally perfected our first hit single."I show them the notebook, flipping to a page bookmarked with stains and a sticky note.The first line reads,'You know....I kinda fucking hate living this way.'~~~~~~~~
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Alfred POVThe next world meeting, Ivan surprises me by sitting next to me.I turn to the older, colder nation. "Hey, Ivan."He smiles tiredly. "Privyet, Alfred."I can't help but notice his breath smells like booze, and his cheeks are flushed. It's not uncommon for the Russian to get drunk, but during a meeting?"Hey, bro." Mattie says, sitting on my other side. Anton joins him, and I wave. Ivan waves before drinking from a flask.When Ivan presents after Yao, he seems much more relaxed, more loose, even giggling a little as he drops his pen.I go next, sighing when Tony once again put memes without my permission on the slides. Everyone chuckles, and I smile, this time feeling much more grounded and stable.When I sit back down, Ivan claps. I blush, and then immediately curse myself. Why am I blushing? This is Russia!"...ohonhonhon, Amerique is blushing."I roll my eyes at the Frenchman, and Ivan smirks. I shudder, imagining what Ivan looks like shirtless, and him seeing my slightly chubby body naked.Okay, abandon that thought.I'm distracted the rest of the meeting, tapping my fingers on the table, Ivan softly humming next to me as he slowly gets more and more drunk.By the time the last country has gone, Ivan is swaying in his seat, leaning his head on his hand, eyes closed.I gently nudge his shoulder. "Ives. Meetin's over."His eyes fly open, and he stumbles to his feet, a silly grin on his face. "Alfred, I want drive you to McDonald's!"I chuckle. "Sure, we can go there, man. I bet you're hungry. But I'm driving, got it?"His hand lands on my shoulder, and he burps before slurring out, "I really like you."Everything stops. Oh, this can't be real. It's just a dream, right? I pinch myself. No, it's really happening.I cup his face. "You're drunk."He grins goofily. Why is he so cute? "Maybe, Alfred. But I'm very honest when drunk."My face gets hotter. "Dude... "Ivan giggles again and stumbles a little. I pull him out of the room, through the elevator even though I hate elevators, and press the first floor. I press myself against the wall."Alfred...time to play..."I ignore the voices, clenching my hands inside my sleeves. Focus, Alfred. Ignore them. Make sure Ivan doesn't do something stupid."Alfred, are you afraid of elevator?" Ivan asks innocently, head tilted cutely.I sigh. "Not necessarily. I just hate how small they are."When the elevator stops, I gently guide Ivan through the building, through the parking lot, and into my car. He slouches in the passenger seat, and I move his seat back to make room for his long legs.When we pull up to McDonald's, Ivan orders a salad, a chocolate frosty, and a double cheeseburger. I get the same thing, along with hashbrowns. After parking, we eat our food, Ivan eating unusually fast. I observe him to make sure he doesn't choke, and he doesn't, to my relief."...so hungry, da." Ivan says bashfully.I chuckle. "That's the alcohol, dude."He smiles a little, and then it fades to a sad frown. "I drink a lot. I can't stop, but I don't want to."I pat his arm. "I used to be you, Ivan. It's possible to stop. I promise."His eyes are bleary. His tone is painfully sad. "How? I've been drinking for years."I sigh sadly. "I got sick of living that way. I can tell you're sick of it. You just have to stubborn about it, and most of all, not do it alone."Before long, we've pulled up to the hotel. I help Ivan down the hallways to his hotel room. He lazily points me, slurring out his passcode to my gratitude.Ivan stumbles to his bed, flopping down after yanking off his shoes. A childish smile grows on his face.I leave him to rest. The next day, to my surprise, Ivan knocks on my door. I answer, and he holds out a bouquet of flowers.I blush ear to ear. "D-dude!"He smiles, and I can tell he's been drinking again. But he's so pretty when he smiles. "I wanted thank you for yesterday."I grin and take the flowers. "Don't even mention it, dude."We get breakfast together, Ivan finding pancakes and dousing them in jam. I eat a breakfast sandwich, washing it down with coffee. I see him drinking from a flask when he thinks I am not looking. I feel something icy as Ivan gets more and more drunk, and the scent of booze on his breath only gets stronger.He empties his flask sooner than he anticipates, and he stares at the black vessel in his hand, gnawing on his lip. "Дерьмо. I'm out of vodka."I say sternly, "I'm not getting you more."He sighs. "As I knew you wouldn't. Thanks Alfred, I'll go sleep it off now."He stumbles a little as he heads to the elevator. As he walks away, I can't help but worry that I'm watching a slow car crash.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Eddie grins as I skip onto the private jet. "Hey, buddy. How're ya?"I do the so-so sign, and he raises eyebrows. "Uh-oh. Don't tell me you've been drinkin' again."I scoff. "Definitely not. No, that's not what's buggin' me."He puts aside his magazine as I sit across from him. "I'm worried about one of the other nations. You know, Ivan?"He gives me a strange look. "One of your political adversaries of the past."I enunciate, "Yes, of the past."He takes his magazine back. "Whatever you say, Alfred."I playfully roll my eyes before my smile fades. "He wants to stop drinking, but he can't.""That sounds familiar." Eddie comments from behind his magazine that obscures his face.I shake my head. "I know, right? I want to help him...but I don't know how.""Don't leave his side. Do what I did, stay right there by him." Eddie says compassionately.Sighing, I get up to get a burger from the kitchen. "Thanks, dude."When we land in Washington DC, I hug Eddie goodbye and get in my car, whistling to myself. I turn on the radio, skipping songs until I find some decent rock.Riiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiiing. My phone goes off, and I hurry to press a button, making my phone connect to my car's Bluetooth."Alfred, it's Ivan." His voice comes through the speaker.I say cheerfully, "Hey, dude.""I crashed car in France. I was driving drunk."Everything in me falls. "Shit, Ives. Are you alright?""Nyet. I hurt my head, my leg, and my chest. I....I think I'm ready to stop, Alfred. I'll do rehab, I'll do what it takes."I respond, "That's a brave step, Ivan. I'll visit you as much as I can.""Spasibo, Alfredka. I...I love you."My face turns hot. "Thanks, haha. I love you, too."
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Alfred POVThe next time I see Eddie, I'm high.The private jet is flying me to Switzerland. I'm slumped in my chair, wearing my Ray-Bans to block the bright light, my feet drumming on the floor as artificial energy courses through me. I'm also talking a mile a minute.When I take a breath, Eddie raises an eyebrow. "You have a whole pot of coffee before this or what?"I avert my eyes. "Somethin' like that.""The hell is that supposed to mean? You're not drinkin' again, are you?"I snap, "The fuck is with you asking that all the time, man?"Eddie raises his hands in a gesture of peace, and it only serves to piss me off more. I sigh angrily and get to my feet, staring at the wall, before I start to shake, and I feel my good mood crashing. Laughter bubbles out of me, uncontrollable and unstoppable."Okay, Alfred, you definitely are on somethin'." He says, arms crossed, standing up now. "Come on, might as well 'fess up."I nervously scratch my neck. "I need the bathroom."He catches my wrist. "Absolutely not. I know you're going to the bathroom to do more drugs. Hand it over."I easily throw him off of me. "What, you want me to piss on the floor?"His face twists in disgust. "No? Go ahead, you weirdo. Geez."I head quickly to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I take an expired credit card out of my pocket, take out the little bag of white powder, and create a line of it on the counter. I snort through a rolled up ten dollar bill. The rush goes immediately to my head, and I grin stupidly in the mirror.After cleaning up the evidence, I wash my face and head back out, my mood much happier. Eddie eyes me suspiciously, and when I talk too fast, too much, not making an ounce of sense, he sighs, eyes closed, voice cracking. "Just tell me what you did, Alfred."I feel guilty, so I tell him. "Cocaine."His gaze is fatherly. "How long, Alfred?"I'm silent. He presses on, voice rising. "How long, Alfred?!"I can't look at him. "A week now.""What happened? You were doing so well."I shake my head and look out the window. Finally, after a few minutes, I say without looking at him, "Ivan and I fought, and we're on the outs now. He hasn't called or texted me since then.""That's rough, buddy." Eddie rubs my shoulder. I let him, beyond caring, unable to feel anything but the buzz of drugs in my system.When the private jet lands, I hug Eddie goodbye and find my rental car in the parking lot. Getting in, I gun the engine, and pull out.The meeting room is chaotic as usual. I sit by Mattie, my nose full of powder, higher than a kite."....paying attention? Al, are you high?" Mattie is asking me.I try to clear my head. "Yes. No, I mean yes. No. I'm completely...completely...what was I saying?"He sighs. "You're off your face right now."I drum my fingers on the table. My thoughts are going so fast. I get to my feet, grab my laptop, and put my presentation on the projector. I talk and talk and talk, even going off topic and ranting about...what am I ranting about?Finally, I feel the cocaine wearing off and I abruptly end my presentation, leaving the room before I'm supposed to.The bathroom is empty, thankfully. I make a line, snort it up, make two more, snort them up. By the time I'm done, I'm so high I can barely see or open my eyes.I leave the bathroom, stumbling, unable to walk in a straight line. When I find my seat again, Mattie looks...worried? I glance over at Ivan, and I see him frowning, hands clasped together in his scarf.When the meeting ends, I've snorted more lines in the bathroom, and I feel my heart thumping faster than it should. Ivan strides towards me, dragging me by the arm into another room.He crosses his arms after shutting the door. "Alfredka, I know you're doing cocaine."I gulp, and then start laughing, painfully, unable to stop. He waits for me to get ahold of myself. I eventually do, hanging on the back of a chair. "So what if I am doing drugs again? Why do you care?""Because I love you, Alfredka!" His voice breaks, and I feel a brief stab of guilt, before I sink back into my intoxicated haze.He comes up to me, holding my face, peering into my eyes. He lets go, sighing. "I can't in good faith let you drive yourself back to the hotel."I sway, and then say while clinging onto his sleeve, "Kiss me."His face softens, and he kisses my cheek. I pout, and he explains softly, "You can't consent right now. But I will cuddle you. And besides, this grudge has gone on long enough and frankly feels stupid."I wrap my arms around him, and he does the same, pressing his lips to my head. When we both traipse back to the hotel where he's staying, he checks us in and drags me into the elevator. I feel myself beginning to crash as we head into Ivan's hotel room. By the time we're both settled on the bed, watching a Swiss cartoon, I'm shaking from withdrawals. The bag in my pocket is calling my name, but I can't do it, not in front of Ivan.He holds me tighter, shushing me as I moan and even weep in pain. At one point, when I'm throwing up, he rubs my back and begins to pray. I listen and let it comfort me. Eventually, God must take pity on me, because my withdrawals ease. Or maybe that's because Ivan made me drink water.I sob into his chest. "Break up with me. I'm so pathetic!"He rubs my shoulder. "No. I'm not leaving you, Alfredka. You helped me get sober. Now I'll help you."