Chapter 31
I stopped drinking the morning after Declan and Bronson died. I had no choice. The first taste of the day made me gag. The second caused my stomach to heave. The third had me racing for the toilet. By the time I spit up the fifth mouthful, my fog-induced thought processes finally kicked in. Alcohol and grieving didn't mix.
But how would I survive the utter anguish if I couldn't get drunk and stay drunk?
I grew up in the sixties, but I was in my early thirties before I had my first whiff of m*******a. The stench was disgusting. And sticking white powder up my nose wasn't an option.
But while it's true I couldn't eat and I couldn't drink, I was too cowardly to follow in Declan's footsteps. Suicide meant being brave, and that is something I've never been. Actually, I'm convince
