You Never Call Me When You're Sober Mga Nobela at Kwento

Harley Jay was drunk. I could tell by the way he answered the phone, the slight slurr of his words as he told me to "just stay safe" and that he'd see me the next day. I guess his five year sobriety chip was well and truly down the toilet.

“Thanks.” “I’ll fix that. After we finish today, first ten shots’re on me.” “Riley, I’ve been sober 33 days now.” “Yeah, I’ll fix that, too.” “I’m already getting a contact high off of Killian. I’ll probably get drunk just breathing the whiskey fumes off of you.” “Don’t turn into a pussy on me now,” she said, slugging him in the arm. “Actually, don’t turn into a bigger pussy on me now.”

"Sure. Good deal." "Jimmy, you gotta be sober. That going to be an issue?" "No. I haven't touched anything in more than three weeks and I'm going to keep that up. But maybe we should start Monday. That'll give me a month dry. Sort of a nice, round number. It's not too bad. I just need to sorta get my head straight. I don't want to be flipping out on people here because I want a drink." "Okay. If that's an issue, Big Mike can help. He's my sponsor."

"You were a late-bloomer, but I'm pretty sure you had your goddamn balls. They dropped when you were a freaking baby." "Either way, we are no longer kids." "That's for damn sure." "Yup," Caleb smacks his tongue against the back of his mouth, producing this "ta-ta-ta" sound; some habits never die. "So, have there been more unsuspecting victims you've called or just me?" "No, this is my first-time drunk dialing." "Ah, there is always a first time for every serial caller. Do you feel the adrenaline pumping? That's how you know it will happen again."

wondering where Sophia went, she is not answering my phone calls. I hope she is safe. I prayed silently. Sophia: Hey Babe, come home and you ain't in. We need to talk, love ya. Sent an hour later and there was still no reply. "There you go..." I took the first shot and it burnt my throat hitting the right spot "Ahh, exactly how I like it" I poured three shots at once before I remembered the football practice tomorrow, I shouldn't be drinking but "oh well" I finished a whole bottle by the time I had finished my 2nd bottle, I feel lightweight but this wouldn't do, I haven't forgotten about any of my damn troubles, especially Sophia's. "Another button," I said hitting the tabletop to get the g

He said that if I didn't leave the restroom within one minute, that photo would go live on the company website. Thus, I had no choice. I turned the egg to the lowest setting and awkwardly walked out with my legs pressed tightly together. The video call was still ongoing. I minimized the window and set my phone on my desk, with the camera aimed at me. "Turn it up one level." The cold command came through my earpiece. But somehow, the thrill of it made me obey without thinking.

"The hard part isn't staying sober. It's deciding to. Everything after that is just following through." "You make it sound simple." "It's not simple. It's the hardest thing you'll ever do." I held up my phone. "But you can do hard things. You just have to decide they're worth it." "And if I decide they're not?" "Then I walk away. Bella walks away. Lily walks away. And you die alone, drunk, with nothing but your guilt for company." I met his eyes. "Is that what you want?" "No." "Then make a different choice."

Me , the broke and rejected one? But instead I said : "Wow. I don't know what to say, I mean...". "You're going to be rich. Its What you've always wanted", he said ,patting me on the back. "I'll text you the address. Be there by 9am tomorrow morning. The board would like to talk to you". "Let's get a drink or something", I said. "No. No need. I'm on sobriety. Autumn and I decided stop drinking for the health of Dennis Jnr".

Less than a month after the first attack, and he already broke his promise about sobriety. I was trapped. Living with someone that I knew was not going to be sober anymore. I had no job, no money to speak of, and Christmas was in just a few days. I was trapped with a monster, one that when he was sober would tell me he loves me, and when he is drunk hates me. I had never been trapped before. The feeling was like the Earth was crushing down on my shoulders, and I could dig but I would never get to the surface.

And then my mother’s words, sharp and cutting, telling me I’m nothing but a failure. I down another drink, and then another. The edge starts to blur, the sharp corners of my thoughts softening just enough to breathe. My phone vibrates on the counter. I ignore it. It vibrates again. And again. I glance at the screen. Scarlett. “Goddamn it,” I mutter, letting it ring. But she doesn’t stop. Call after call, the screen lighting up over and over until I finally grab the phone and answer. “What?” I snap, the alcohol making my voice rougher than I mean it to be.