“Yeah, I guess.”
He took a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief. “I just… Oh Jesus. What wasn’t my rock bottom? I was out at the bars almost every night, and managed to pick a fight almost every time. A few times, I’d show up to the set of Red Nevada with bruises so dark, the makeup girl was paid overtime. Once, my face was so puffed out that shooting had to be put on hold until the swelling could go down. Biker guy. Real big bastard.” He chuckled dejectedly at the memory. “We got that movie finished by the skin of our teeth, and God. It really sucked when we did. I can’t normally watch any of my movies, but that one? Holy shit. I can barely even say the title. It really fucked with my career. Miramax heard all about my bullshit on—and off—the set, and that, combined with it bombing was enough for them to cancel my contract for Sanction. Instead of waking me up, it just allowed more time for drinking.”
I stayed quiet through his rambling. Not only was his monologue enlightening, but it was just too damned shocking for words. I couldn’t believe he was ever that broken person. It sounded nothing like the Trip I thought I knew; the sweet boy he was as a teenager, the confident man he was now. I smoothed a palm over the hair above his ear and just let him talk.
“I gotta say, though, the thing that really clinched it for me, the thing that truly woke me up… It wasn’t the fighting or the bruises or the threat to my career. It was Claudia.”
“Your sister was your rock bottom?”
He gave a chuckle and explained. “No. It was something she said. She’d stopped by unexpectedly one day—she does that a lot by the way, be prepared—and I was floating in the pool on a raft, passed out, fully clothed, just a complete disaster as usual. She thought she was being cute when she tossed a snorkel at me to wake me up. I did, for about a second, long enough to roll face first into the water. I didn’t come back up.”
My fingers had been twirling his hair, but at that, my hand stilled.
“She told me afterward that she had to jump in and drag me over to the stairs. All I know is that one minute, I thought going for a swim seemed like a great idea, and the next, I’m waking up to my sister shaking me, just screaming in my face. I’d pretty much tuned her out the whole time. But then… then she said, ‘You look like shit, Terrence! You look just like Dad!’ And if you don’t think that fucking got to me, you’d be wrong. And I knew it. I knew I was turning into the old man. The one asshole in the world I never wanted to turn into. I checked into rehab the following day. Second best move I ever made.”
“What was the first?” I asked, smiling, knowing full-well what he was going to say.
“Taking your virginity in that tent.”
I smacked him for that. “Asshole.”
He laughed, then sat up to face me. “Okay, fine. The best move was from Indiana to New Jersey. Because that’s when I met you. Happy?” He ran a palm across my jaw and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, my skin shivering from the sweet words and gentle touch. There I was, with Trip Effing Wilmington by my side once again.
“But that virginity thing is a pretty close third.”
“Shut up, you creep!” I snickered as I gave him a shove.
He smiled and grabbed my hand, looking down at our twined fingers as he said, “I got that letter you sent after I got out. It meant a lot. Thank you.”
When I’d heard Trip was in rehab, I kind of lost it a little bit. I was happy that he’d decided to get help, but I was stunned that his drinking problem had gotten so bad. That one letter was the only time I’d ever reached out to him over our four-and-a-half year separation. I wrote about ten different drafts before finally putting the tamest one in an envelope and shooting it off to his agent’s office. I was relieved to find out it actually found its way into his hands. “I wished I’d explained things to you then, but… as far as I knew, you were still engaged, and I didn’t even know how to tell you what I was feeling without…”
“No. The words of encouragement were enough. I wasn’t in the right place back then to hear anything more than that. I didn’t read it right away—I should confess that to you right now. It took me a few weeks to even open the envelope. Then a few more to actually read the letter. I was glad once I finally did. I was proud that I was able to resist getting drunk in order to do it. It was the first real test after I got out. So… thanks.”
It seemed like a strange thing to be thanked for, but I knew what he meant. “You’re welcome.”
He swiped his free hand through his hair and said, “I channeled all of my focus into getting back into shape after that. I figured if I was going to come back, I was going to come back stronger than ever. Any time I had the urge for a drink, I worked out instead.”