Ernest Hemingway (papahemingway) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2020-02-27 22:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | dan torrance, ~ernest hemingway 2 |
Who? Hemingway, Dan, anyone at Booze Club
Where? Booze Club
When? Thursday evening
What? Bit of a cry for help
Open? Yes
Rating? TBD
Hemingway was sure that there was probably some sort of rule against turning up to an AA meeting drunk. Not that Dan had ever warned him, and he hadn't always been entirely sober at the meetings since returning to the station once more. No doubt they'd smelled the liquor on his breath, even as he'd downed coffee in an attempt to mask it. They'd definitely seen that he was hungover, not just tired. Maybe they knew not to push, that he'd come around in his own time.
But time had gone on and on, and he was sure they were sick of the sight of him by now. Why keep showing up if you weren't going to put any real effort into turning it around again. Maybe that was the problem - he didn't think he could actually do it, but if he didn't try, he never had to find out if that was actually true.
Today was different, today was probably a little too far. He'd turned up tipsy before, he'd turned up hungover, but today it had taken real effort to actually find the place. He'd stood outside with his forehead against the wall trying to make the station stop spinning, and it had taken five attempts to actually open the door properly.
Once successfully inside, he'd managed to knock a chair over, although he did apologise to it. He didn't even attempt coffee, knowing he wouldn't be able to pour properly, and he was quite afraid that he might throw up if he tried to put anything else in his stomach. This wasn't good, and there was no covering this mess up with bravado and talking a big game. That was the point - this was what they had to see, because whenever it came to actually talking, he glossed over details, gave the sort of answers he thought people wanted to hear, and never mentioned that he often blacked out whole chunks of the day.
He'd slumped into an upright chair, and was looking up at the ceiling that was spinning around and around above him. Don't be sick, don't be sick... he wasn't sure if it was better or worse when he closed his eyes.