Read Online Buried by Robin Merrow MacCready - Free Book Online Page A

Matt and Deb laughed about something at the other end of the room, and Cindy and Hanna sat quietly side by side, each in her own world.
    â€œOkay, time.” Lydia set her coffee on an empty chair beside her. “If you need me, I’m here. Otherwise the floor is yours. Who wants to start us?”
    Liz raised her hand. “Me, I’d like to share.”
    â€œOkay, Liz,” Lydia said.
    â€œMy name’s Liz, and I’m the daughter of an alcoholic.” She bit her lip.
    â€œHi, Liz,” we said.
    â€œMy father hit bottom. Last night he took off when he was drunk. He didn’t come back until this afternoon.” She looked at me. “Claudine helped me get through a hard day. I couldn’t have done it without you, Claude.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. I was shocked at her honesty, the way she easily spilled her guts to them.
    â€œDad wants to talk to Mom and me when I get home. I’m not sure what to do or say.”
    â€œJust take it one day at a time, Liz,” Deb said.
    â€œRight. You can’t cure him; you can only take care of yourself,” Hanna said.
    Liz nodded. “Well, he’s definitely out of the Pleasure Zone now. I can’t trust him anymore.”
    â€œPleasure Zone?” Lydia said.
    â€œYeah, the P.Z. Dad used to handle it okay. You know, not too drunk and not too sober. His Pleasure Zone. But now he can’t control it. He’s crashing.” Liz started to tear up. “It was bad last night; he acted just like a real drunk.” The room grew silent. Except for an occasional sniff from Liz, nobody spoke.
    Mom always acted like a real drunk, but Liz’s dad could be smashed and function at the same time. I was always jealous of that. I tried to catch her eye, but she wasn’t looking anywhere but at her clipboard, where a pool of tears had collected.
    â€œYou knew it was a myth that alcoholics could control their drinking,” Hanna said. “You knew it, right?”
    â€œYeah, but like I said, I didn’t think he was a real drunk. I guess—” She blew her nose. “I guess I thought he was different. Better.”
    Matt let out a dramatic sigh and stretched his legs. “You mean better dressed.”
    Deb laughed and kicked Matt’s boot.
    â€œMatt, that was so low,” Cindy said. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Low.”
    â€œWell, yeah, sorry. I’m just so sick of people not saying what they think. When my old man gets smashed, I just tell him off and leave. When he sobers up, I come back. Simple. You can’t do nothin’ about it,” Matt said. “Why’s everyone so friggin’ polite all the time?”
    â€œI’ve never told him what I think about his drinking,” Liz said. “It wasn’t a big deal until this year.”
    â€œI didn’t talk with my parents at first either,” Cindy said. “But you’ll find out it can be rewarding to share your feelings. I did with my parents, and we all cried and now we share all the time.”
    I stayed as still as possible. I didn’t want to be in this conversation.
    Matt said, “That’s a crock. You think that’s how it works for everybody? We all cry and then have a group hug?” He threw up his hands. “You realize that you sound excruciatingly superior?”
    Cindy looked pale.
    He sat on the edge of his seat. “People, listen to me. The reality is that you can’t trust a drunk with your feelings.”
    Lydia cleared her throat. Here it comes, I thought, she’ll take over. But it was just that: throat clearing.
    Matt was right about the trust thing, but I wasn’t in the sharing mood. I wanted to disappear.
    Â 
Friday night was mall night, but Liz announced that she was going to spend it with her family, since her dad was going through a bad time. That was good—I wanted to spend some time rearranging the kitchen. After