As she saw Alana take another swig from the bottle, the sensation of fear came rushing into her chest. It wasn't the kind of fear that was momentary. No, it is the fear that is always in you, waiting for a trigger that would set it off. It has a past, made up haunting memories and scars that run deep. Anika diverted her scattered attention to the article on her phone, but it wasn't helping, only made things worse. But she only released a sigh, locked her phone and placed it back in her pocket. She didn’t want to be selfish, not now. She didn’t want to make this all about herself, because this wasn’t about her, this was about Alana.

There she was, swaying drunkenly as she held onto the counter. Anika arrived just in time as the bartender placed two more shots on the table. A ruckus was playing out around them, with people cheering as though a wrestling match was playing out. Anika tried to decipher what was happening, but the circle of the crowd was only tightening around the scene. Just as she was about to sit down, a roar erupted from amongst them. She flinched a little, wanting to escape. Taking a seat at the counter, she glanced at Alana, who was facing the scene, her drowsy eyes gazing at some point beyond. When she noticed Anika her eyes widened and lips stretched into a smile. That did little to lighten the feeling in her chest. Anika managed a small smile and reached a hand out to brush Alana's hair from her face.

“Where were you all this while?” Alana said moving in, “I was looking for you.”

“I was getting wor-,” glass shattered and shards exploded into the air. Alana gasped, jerking backward as if one of the pieces struck her.

“Alana, are you hurt?”

Her hands were clutching her head, she looked dizzy, "No."

The fight only worsened. A guy flung a chair at the glass doors, and someone screamed; it was a complete disaster. “Let’s get out.” She held Alana's hand and she held it tighter as they slogged through the crowd of jeering people and out of the bar.

One thing Anika realized a few months into being a clinical psychologist was how difficult it was for practitioners to follow what they preach in their own lives. Sitting in the midst of the darkness that night, Anika was recounting all of the instances during her time as a student when she had to address patients with addiction. She fiddled with the bracelet around her wrist and thought about how she has had such conversations a thousand times before, but all of that experience simply lay collapsed in front of her as she fumbled for words to say to Alana.

“I don’t know how to start this conversation, so let me just say it,” Alana seemed well aware of what was to come. She leaned against the bench, curled up, her gaze downcast. "You need to stop drinking."

“Well I’m trying,” she muttered.

“Oh yeah? How much did you have tonight?”

“I just had one shot,” Anika raised her brows. “And three shots.”

"It's just one night, Anika. I've been sober for months," she paused for a moment before months.

“Exactly. You made progress. Now you’re only backtracking.”

“It's only occasional,” she sighed, which only frustrated her further, “And you have to understand that it’s not easy—”

"Alana," She was contemplating whether to say it or not but decided quickly, “You know why I keep pestering you about this? Because it's hard enough that I’ve had to live with it once, I don't want to live with it all over again."

Anika was just as surprised as Alana. But she felt relieved, as though she released a breath she had been holding in for too long.

A breath she held in for twelve years.

When she looked at Alana, she was looking straight at her. "What do you mean you had to live it once?"

Anika sighed, "My mom was an addict."

There was a pause. “You never told me before.”

"I never told anyone." She couldn't admit it even to herself. She couldn’t stand the thought of both of those words being in the same sentence.

There was so much on her mind, but Anika kept quiet. It felt as though everything she wanted to say was right there, in that silence. It felt thick with emotion and it surrounded her, like bars of a cage.

“Was she abusive?”

She was taken aback, “What?”

Alana said nothing, only continued looking at her.

“No.” She pretended not to remember all of those times when she would hit her after downing an entire bottle and then wondered whom she was pretending to.

Again, a silence ensued. It was almost cinematic with the traces of wind and rustle of leaves. The park was empty except for them, and the moonlight was their only illumination.

“Anyways," Alana was about to say something but she cut her off, deciding that this wasn't the time to talk about it, "I’ve had a mother who suffered from alcohol addiction and it’s just scary to see what it does to a person. And to the people who love them.”

"I love you too," Alana finally said, softly. She leaned in and kissed her. Anika loved how she was the kind of person who loved physical comfort, the kind who would make her feelings known, albeit unintentionally.

She finally pulled away, her face heated up. Looking at her watch, she said, "It's getting late. Let's call Aaron and go home."

“No, I don’t wanna walk,” her face was buried in Annika’s shoulder as she mumbled the muffled words.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep.” Too late. Anika shook her head and brought her phone out, dialing Aaron, who was supposed to pick her up. She decided that they would just have to lug Alana to her feet. This happened every single time.

And as much as she was trying not to think about it, she couldn’t. She opened up something that was buried in her memories for years and could still feel the pain from those wounds. When you’ve had to live with something like that for such a long time, it becomes a part of your identity. It did for Anika. For years she was trying to detach herself from it, trying to reconcile with her reality. She remembered those moments of desperate loneliness in college when the debilitating realization of everything she had been deprived of struck her. It was her mother, that was what hurt the most.

However, at that moment, the only feeling Anika was experiencing was that of hopeful relief. She never told anybody, a large part of the reason being that she was afraid of the reaction she would get. As she gently shook Alana, she thought telling her was the right thing. It felt like placing a missing piece of a puzzle in its place, like their relationship was complete. From the distance, headlights glared in the darkness and Aaron pulled up the car in front of them.

“Ready to go?” he asked, peering outside.

Anika smiled and nodded, “Yes.”