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drugs and alcohol have made your life unmanageable?
I know they did, I reply. I partially hate myself for sounding like
such a sycophant, but also love how good it feels to not always be so
defiant.
We re going to get along just fine, she says, and she smiles as she
walks away.
The day I m getting out, I decide to check the messages on my ma-
chine. Everyone else has been calling their voicemail somewhat ob-
sessively, but I ve been doing a decent job of acting like I didn t
actually exist before I came to Pledges. We talk a lot about how we re
being reborn here in Culver City, but I ve taken that even further by
deciding that everything that happened before wasn t really my life.
Even though I ve gone over everything in group and in post-group
smoke-athons, when I talk about the girl who did coke all day at work
or Special K with strangers and passed out besides Dumpsters, I feel
like I m actually talking about someone else a troubled girl I once
knew, but not me. Here in rehab, I ve been learning that I m not
much like who I thought I was I m more nervous and thoughtful
than I am bitchy and fabulous and I m starting to see that I m also
reliable and considerate, and do actually care about other people.
Thinking about my behavior with Stephanie and Brian and everyone
else makes me shudder, but Tommy and Rachel keep telling me not to
regret the past, and that I can deal with all of that when I m ready.
But on my last day, I know that acclimation back into my life will
feel less overwhelming if I deal with my messages, or even the fact that
there might not be any messages, ahead of time. So even though the
receiver for the pay phone feels like it weighs about a hundred pounds,
I force myself to dial the numbers. I d gotten so accustomed to that
cold-sounding computerized woman s voice informing me that I had
no new messages that I m shocked when I hear her announce that I
146 A N N A D A V I D
have twenty-three. Christ, I don t think I ve had twenty-three people
I know call me in the past year. The first one s about a sample sale I
missed, the second is a wrong number, but my heart starts racing on
number three.
Amelia, it s Stephanie, I hear, and I prepare for a verbal assault.
But she continues, I heard about what happened with Absolutely Fab-
ulous, and. . . God, this is stupid. I m an asshole for e-mailing you that
ice princess note. Will you call me? Also, someone is spreading these
crazy rumors about you going to rehab! She punctuates that with an
enormous laugh. Please call and let me know you re okay. Are you up
north with your family?
I push 2 to save the message and wonder what the hell I m going
to say to her. She said the word rehab like someone would say mime
school or prison like it was basically inconceivable. I remember
feeling the same way before I got here.
The rest of the messages are from random acquaintances, some
who d heard that I d been fired, some just checking in. It seemed
shocking to realize that I actually do have people who care about me
when I ve spent so much time alone, convinced that the whole world
hated me. I guess this is the alcoholic mind Tommy s always talking
about. In one of the first groups I went to, someone had shared about
how alcoholics and addicts see things as black or white either every-
thing s terrible or it s wonderful, we re in love or we re in hate and
that accepting that life is full of gray areas, of days and people that are
just okay, is challenging because we can t get high off that, or create
martyrlike drama around it. I suddenly understand that share com-
pletely, as well as the ones I d heard about how our minds are out to
convince us of things that aren t true in order to make us feel bad.
Tommy likes to call this the beast, and Justin is always saying, Your
mind is a dangerous place don t go in there alone! Standing there
and listening to the messages from my former life with the ears of my
new life, all the small comments and shares I ve heard over the past
four weeks start piling up and making even more sense than when I
first heard them.
P A R T Y G I R L 147
When I finish listening to the messages on my home voicemail, I
check my BlackBerry, which Kimberly unceremoniously returned to
me this morning. And that s when I almost pass out.
Amelia, darling, this is Tim Bromley I trust you remember me,
says a voice I could never forget.
I can t believe this is actually happening. Tommy talked a lot
about how our dreams would all come true if we stayed sober, but he d
also given a lot of lip service to the fact that we should try not to get
into serious relationships during our first year of sobriety. I feel certain
that an exception could be made for a perfect British man I d been
pining for, but I try to stay calm as I listen to the rest of his message.
Well, I wasn t going to leave this on an answering machine but,
you see, I heard what happened with you at Absolutely Fabulous.
My heart sinks as quickly as it lifted before when I realize he s just
calling to console me over getting fired. For a second, I hate him
there s nothing more horrifying than being pitied.
He continues, And I say their loss can be my gain. You live a wild
life and tell fabulous stories about it. Come write a column document-
ing your exciting, crazy adventures for Chat. I can surely pay you bet-
ter than whatever you were getting to do those naff celebrity stories.
And, well, I hope you don t think I m incredibly pompous for telling
you this but, well, the job would surely launch you into the cultural
stratosphere and possibly make you a household name. Call me when
you get this, can you? Oh, and by the way, I already have the per-
fect name for the column. He pauses, possibly for dramatic effect,
even though the moment has plenty of drama already. Party Girl.
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