365 Days Clean

CW: References to substance abuse

“Hurry up!” Michelle hissed. “He’ll be here in less than 30 minutes.” The decorations were set. The ribbons were draped. An Oreo cake was gifted and frozen as the cherry on top of this special night.

Michelle was pushing everyone about. His nieces, their grandparents, and his homeboy Tony, who delivered the fountain drinks. Yes, oh yes, today would be a surprise party he would not believe.

As for whom the surprise was meant for, he was finishing his invoices at work. 4:39 pm. A full half-hour over his shift’s official end. The stack of book orders to catalog multiplied exponentially at the start of the new school year. Elijah was swamped with 45 textbooks to log and 21 memos to email to an industry’s worth of clients and students. His fingers had lead in them. His tongue felt especially heavy. It started wandering in history, to the days he didn’t fear taking the edge off. To the days when life used to feel like easy street.

“Elijah, I’m leaving. Can you add these orders into the spreadsheets?” requested Andrew, a rival coworker he went to some parties with back in his college days. He was gone by shift end, no matter what, to work on his avant-garde novel, meaning someone had to put in overtime for the orders he put off lest they get a lecture from the manager like two months ago.

“Only if you promise this is the last time I cover for you. Employees oughta do what their assigned, right?” Elijah had to remind him, since he was somehow always selected to cover him.

“I do enough work the moment my shift ends. I gotta get some time to write. You know that," Andrew said back.

“Yeah, just dump ‘em on the desk.” Andrew complied, frowning.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask again, since you want to be high and mighty now that you got this coordinator job. Did you forget how much you used to hit the beer pong back in the day?”

“Have a nice night,” Elijah ignored him, knowing he’d pound his keyboard for even longer. What gives him the right to say that? What possesses him to feel good about making more work for others? It…shouldn’t matter, my decisions before coming here. I’m here now.

It was that type of decorum Elijah endured, along with the already tight schedules he had, that made the cravings even more sore. Almost as sore as they were when he couldn’t enjoy the stuff anymore after his sister, Michelle, threw it away. Cold turkey rehabilitation was an acute kind of hell on Earth. Convulsing, vomiting, warzones in his head every waking moment. He was admitted to a clinic for twelve days, and by the final day, he’d bellowed the bass and some blood out of his voice box for one more taste. One more sip of Everclear or Vodka, THEN that was it.

Elijah finally clocked out by 4:54 pm. Monday was Labor Day, so he had the day off. While brainstorming what to do with it in his Altima, old celebrations with his frat in college were parked in his lap. Andrew was there, those foreign divas from Korea were there, and everyone was drinking. The buzz struck Elijah the way lightning strikes a tree. It made him participate. It made him take risks for the women. It supplied him a memo of short pleasures that never beat the resume of long regrets he’d made as a dropout, as a 34-year-old man, making $20 an hour.

A quaint Liquor joint would wave him goodbye on the road home next to a supermarket. Maybe. Maybe one sip of some wine wouldn’t hurt. Elijah left the lot and began the journey home.

Meanwhile, Michelle’s behind-the-scenes stunt had been fully orchestrated. Everyone had their own gifts in-hand. Michelle made everyone wait in the attic, and she kept watch through the door. “Is he not here yet,” niece Gabby worried. “Doesn’t his work shift end at 4:00 pm.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” added Levy, the other niece.

“It’s 4:30 now, since he’s been complaining about being swamped with paperwork,” Michelle said. “But even then, he’s always home before five…”

Within a vacuum of silence, everyone feared the worst.

“I hope this ain’t it, but maybe he’s out drinking again.” Tony theorized.

“No!” denied Mama Cross. “He didn’t relapse. Not after those twelve days in the clinic, suffering those withdrawal symptoms. I saw his eyes. They told me he would quit for real!”

“Yeah. And he has been like that since.”

“So what’s taking him so long then?”

Nobody had an answer.

“I’ll call him,” Michelle said. Seven-two-seven, one-three-one, nine-nine-zero-nine. There was an instant disconnect. Michelle couldn’t even leave the message. This happened a lot when Elijah would disappear into his liquor-fueled jaunts in the dead of night. Michelle turned full of agony, prepared to weep.

“Call the cops,” urged the grandparents.

“Wait. Let’s have a little more faith. Old habits die hard. This doesn’t mean he relapsed,” Michelle said.

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t either,” Tony said.

“Aren’t you supposed to defend your best friend?”

“Michelle, I love him, but I know how that stuff can change people. The worst addicts say drinking is more natural than breathing, and he was ON that stuff not too long ago. I told you, I told him that he should’ve stayed in the hospital for much longer, but he was too eager to get out.”

“No way,” Gabby said. “Uncle Elijah couldn’t have started again. He promised…”

“Ain’t no way we put all this up, got him that cake for nothing,” Mama cross said. “I won’t believe it till I see it!”

“We can’t wait that long, baby smurf. It’s too risky to rely on chance. Call them,” Grandaddy Cross said.

Before they could do that, there was a smooth hum crawling into the driveway. Elijah was finally home. Sober or not, that was the inquiry. Everyone hurried upstairs. Michelle was in the bathroom. She listened to him trudge his dress shoes, struggle his work case out of the trunk. He was yawning and sighing. He sounded like he had trouble walking. Michelle was ready to see her brother in another stupor. The door creaked open. He walked over and clicked the lights on. Michelle crept behind him. He carried a rack of something in his left hand. It was like a scene from three years ago, or two years ago, or one year ago.

“Elijah?!”

His eyes were red, his lips drenched, his retail uniform or casual was so disheveled and reeking of ladies perfume. “Hey, sister…” He’d stumble so far, colliding his spine with the table. “Sorry…I just had a good night tonight.”

The present Elijah skipped several feet back. His eyes were clear. His polo was still buttoned. In his hand was a case of alkaline waters instead of a rack of Coronas.

“You again, Michelle. Did you sneak in while I was getting water?” He asked. That was enough for everyone to confirm his innocence.

“He’s clean!” Michelle shouted. Then, Elijah’s nieces, grandparents, mother, and best friend tumbled down the stairs.

“SURPRISE! HAPPY ONE-YEAR CLEAN ANNIVERSARY. 365 DAYS AND COUNTING!!!”

Elijah didn’t respond. He took in the decorations hanging around. The frankincense aroma. The sounds of cheer he’d convinced himself he’d never receive. “What did y’all do?” he finally said.

“What’s it look like, dawg? You got eyes, tell us!” Tony said.

Elijah couldn’t maintain his professionalism once he dapped his homeboy up. “All this for not drinking for a year.”

“That’s not an easy addiction to hold at bay, boy,” Grandaddy Cross said.

“Gifts!” chanted Mama cross. Each member had something to give. Michelle’s gift, a crystal necklace. Mama Cross’s gift, a caramel handmaid suit made of linen. Tony’s gifts, a YouTooz Malenia action figure and a definitive Elden Ring disc. Levy and Gabby’s gift, some ruby bracelets. Grandaddy and Grandmama's cross gifts were the infamous Sunday dinner: Stuffing, meatloaf, Mac & Cheese, stashed warm in the oven. Elijah wasn’t even twelve the last time he could take the perfection that was their concessions. He was the first to take a spoonful of stuffing at the table. It gave him a high superior to any drug or drink he could consume. Then, it was time for dessert. Elijah’s eyes lit up like candlelight once he was bestowed the Troll-size Oreo cake he saw two years ago at Publix.

“It’s all for you,” Mama Cross said.

“No…” Elijah denied. “No way, mama. All this for me? I want all of y’all to take some of this.”

“Yeah!” Levy and Gabby weren’t pleased with this surprise as well. “He’ll get fat if he has it all to himself!”

“As if that’s why you’re complaining,” jabbed Grandaddy Cross with a smile.

Mama Cross thought for a minute. “Alright. What ‘bout half? One half belongs to us. The other belongs to you.”

Everyone coincided, split the cake, and let their tongues melt within the icy Oreo swirl. Just as Elijah remembered all those Sunday years ago, before he got a whiff of that bottle or blew a puff of that nicotine, life was peace, chock-full of sweetness as it should be.

“Even though we don’t have any birthday candles, I’d like you to make a wish, brother,” Michelle said.

Elijah swallowed and stared at the table. “Even better. I have a prayer for God.” The table clasped their hands together for grace. “Father Yahuah, thank you. I love you. I love my family. I want to keep walking the straight & narrow with my family. I don’t want no more drinks, no more hits, no more vices. I’ve already wasted 33 years on vices.”

“Hallelujah!” Mama cross' sanctity bled through.

“Have me keep this job. Have me learn how to build. Have me make a family of my own. Have me find peace with you as my guide and forgive me for my iniquities. Have mercy, father, selah.”

“Hallelujah!” The word echoed through every wall in the house.

“Oh, Elijah, look,” Tony pointed at the clock. 12:01 am. “Dang. It’s already Monday now, ain’t it?”

“Not a problem,” Elijah assured. “I got a day off today.”

“Nice,” Tony dapped Elijah up again.

“I guess we should say you’ve been clean 366 days & counting, shouldn’t we?” Michelle said.

“Every day from now on, I’ll be counting. For the rest of my life I’m gonna clean,” Elijah promised. “I ain’t got no doubt about it.”