October 2009
“Heeey,” I drag out as I attempt to get up from my chair. “Dinner,” I grunt. Mia stares at me like I’m speaking a different fucking language. “What’s for dinner?” I try again, annoyed.
“Pot roast.” Her reply is short. While she’s calm, she definitely has an attitude, and with the alcohol in my system, it pisses me off.
“What if I don’t want roast?” I’m finally up but stumble a few steps, sloshing my Jack Daniels around in my glass. My head is hazy and I’m a little dizzy. I keep moving to keep from feeling it. I found I can trick my body and not puke that way.
She sighs like she’s about to talk to a child. What the fuck is her problem? I just asked what was for dinner. “Then starve. It’s been cooking all day and I’m not making something else because you don’t want it.” She won’t even look at me, just keeps flipping through her magazine while she uses her snippy fucking tone. I wasn’t awake when she made it, so I had no idea. Of course, I hardly roll out of bed before noon anymore.
I look at her sitting on the couch without a care in the world. “Yeah, you just sit there and judge me.” I rock back and forth a little and snarl at her.
“If you feel judged, then that says more about you than me. I haven’t said a damn word.” That’s all it takes to set me off.
“You’ve got your nice, cushy job telling people about bullshit they don’t care about. You think people actually care about some hundred-year-old lady’s birthday? No. You know why? Because we all have real problems. We don’t have time for that stupid shit or your feel-good stories.” She doesn’t respond and that pisses me off even more. I want her to get mad. I want her to fight with me. I need someone to take this out on. “You go to work knowing everyone is going home. There’s no danger, no roofs collapsing on your friends.” Even through my drunken fog, I can hear the hate and bitterness in my words.
“Then retire!” she yells at me. “Do whatever you need to do, but I’m over this shit, Blake. I’m over it! I’m sorry you lost Gary, but—”
“No!” I take my glass and hurl it across the room. It hits the wall and shatters upon impact. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know shit, Mia!”
When I look at her, I expect to see tears. A sick part of me hopes to see them. I want to transfer my pain to her. I expect her to get up and run out of the room, but she doesn’t. What I see in her eyes is ten times worse. She’s disappointed in me. I look away, not able to stomach it.
“You don’t know shit,” I murmur again before falling back into my chair.
“Then tell me, Blake. Talk to me.” She comes and kneels in front of me. There’s no anger in her expression, only worry and hurt. I’m hurting her on a daily basis and that kills me. I’m such a bastard. “Because right now I see a man who’s turning into my mother. A man who puts his booze above his wife, just like she put it above her daughter. I won’t live that life again. I can’t. I deserve more.”
I hang my head in shame; her words are like an ice bucket being dumped on my head, sobering me up. The reason Mia came to live with her dad is because her mom is an alcoholic. She wasn’t able to care for her, so she handed over full custody. She hasn’t seen her since. I’m repulsed by myself. Absolutely disgusted I remind her of her horrible mother. “I’ve tried to stop since they put me on leave, but I can’t.” Chief noticed I was taking Gary’s death pretty hard, so he gave me some time off to sort out my shit. I’ve been trying to numb it ever since.
“Why not?” There’s no judgment when she asks, making me feel more comfortable with telling her the truth.
“Because the first thing I see when I wake up is Gary’s face, and it’s just too hard. I don’t know how to deal with it,” I admit, looking down. I’m ashamed and embarrassed. I thought I’d be stronger than this, but I’m not.
“What did you do when your dad died? How’d you cope then?”
I glance up and look her square in the eyes. “I had you.” My voice is raw with vulnerability. It’s the most honest words I’ve spoken in a month.
She grabs my hands. “You still do, Blake. You still do. Let me help you. Use me as your crutch. You don’t need this stuff.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and lean my head against the couch. This is so much different than when Dad died. I wasn’t the cause of it then. I am now. How can anyone live with that? Gary’s funeral was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. To look his wife and kids in the eye and tell them I was sorry was crippling. They sobbed and there was nothing I could do to comfort them, to take the pain away. Because the fact of the matter is, I’m the cause of that pain. I lived and he died.
“But I do need it. It’s too hard. Do you know what it’s like to watch someone you care about slip through your fingers? One minute they’re there, and the next they’re not?”
“Yes,” she says very quietly. “I watch you drink yourself into a stupor every night. You’re slipping from me little by little, and I have no idea how to help you. I’ve tried letting you work it out, I’ve thought about talking to your chief about it. Hell, I even called your mother and she didn’t have a solution either.”
That gets my attention. Mom never mentioned Mia calling her. Of course, I can’t really remember the last time I talked to her sober. A sense of betrayal that she would go behind my back and run to my fucking mother creeps in and has me seething.
“I’m at a loss, Blake. But with every sip you take, you drift farther and farther away from me, and it’s killing me. It’s killing us.” I lift my head to tell her she had no right calling my mother about this, but my words die on my tongue when I take in her tear-filled eyes. This beautiful woman who I’ve vowed to honor and protect is looking up at me desperately. I’ve failed her. As a husband and as her friend.
“Do you think Gary would want this for you?” she asks. “Do you think he gave up his life for you to drink yourself to death?”
She’s right. Gary would probably smack me upside the head and tell me to man the fuck up if he were here right now. I squeeze my eyes shut, making a silent vow to myself, to Gary, and to Mia that I’ll try harder. I’ll do better and be the husband Mia deserves. Because I know she doesn’t deserve a worthless, piece of shit who yells at her about dinner and breaks glasses against walls. I nod my head and look at her. “Okay, I’ll try. I can’t promise I won’t fail, but I’ll try.”
The corners of her mouth twitch. This conversation has been a slight buzz kill and the sobering effects make it easier to pick up on the smaller facial gestures. “I’m glad.” She presses her lips together and I can tell she has something else to say. Her hands cup my face as she peers into my eyes. “And if you won’t or can’t do it for me or for yourself, do it for our baby.” She pauses, making sure what she’s said has sunken in. My mind is working slower right now, but I could’ve sworn she said something about a baby.
“Wh-what?” I blink rapidly trying to process all of this.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispers. “Three months.”
“I’m going to be a dad?” My eyes widen as they fill with tears.
“Yes. We’re having a baby,” she replies with a nod.
“Holy shit.” I grab her and pull her onto my lap as I hold her for dear life. “I can’t believe it.” My ear is to her chest, listening to her strong heartbeat. The same heartbeat that keeps our baby healthy. I stare at her flat tummy that protects and nourishes our baby. Placing my hand on it, I rub my thumb back and forth over the fabric in astonishment.
“You see,” she says gently as she strokes my hair. “There will always be tragedy in life, but we have to look forward to our blessings. This is our blessing, our reason for living.”
“I already had my reason for living, Mia. I have you. I guess I just lost my way a little. I’m so sorry, babe. I’m sorry I let you down.” I tighten my hold on her, amazed by her patience and strength. I know I haven’t been easy to live with these last few weeks, but she’s been strong in her silence and tolerance.
“Just come back to me, Blake.”
“I will. I promise.”