Lars
AS MUCH AS Molly thought she knew me, I knew her twice as well. I loved her first and longest, not that I was keeping score, but it was true nonetheless.
I loved her for two years before she even knew my name.
When she said yes to dating me, I made it my job to know everything about her.
It was really the only thing I knew how to do well.
I hadn’t really been good at school. I was one of nine children and sometimes fell through the cracks. But I loved my big family more than anything.
I always thought I’d have that with Molly.
“Want some soup?”
There was only one way to tell her what I really needed to tell her.
“If you give me any more soup, I’m gonna have a problem that even alcohol can’t fix.”
She bunched her eyebrows right above her nose.
“What I’m trying to say is that I think I’m ready for something a little more solid.”
“Oh, I thought your stomach was upset. I thought it might help.”
“It did until it started to give me the runs. How about we go to town and get a burger.”
I felt the stink eye she gave me down in my marrow.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Lars.”
“Give me a break, Molly. One more can of soup and you’ll be more worried about me suffering an Oregon Trail fate than dying from alcohol.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. That was the first time I noticed she wasn’t really allowing herself to smile. Every time she did, she stopped it almost before it started.
Her clothes were baggy.
Even her socks slouched around her ankles.
Her ponytail was straw-like.
“I’m not gonna get a drink if that’s what you’re jabbing at.”
“I’m not jabbing at it at all, Lars. I’m sure of it. I know for a fact the only place that serves burgers is also a bar.”
The redness in her cheeks grew to a flame.
“Well, then you come up with something else, oh righteous one, because I’m not eating another spoonful of soup. Deal with it.”
That was rude, I but was hangry.
If she wouldn’t give me what I really wanted, the least she could do was feed me a decent meal.
It wasn’t like I could drive.
“I’ll drive up there and get them if you’re going to be a jerk about it.”
“I am.”
“Fine.”
We didn’t speak much for the rest of the day. I tried like hell to hide the quaking in my body that had moved from just my hands to my torso and in some moments, it was as though my intestines themselves were rattling with nervous energy.
Even my intestines wanted a drink.
I tried to rationalize it as I conjured up a stupid speech in my head, sitting on the swing that overlooked the lake.
It would calm me down.
Just one beer would make all of these symptoms go away.
It would be better than every noise making me jump three feet in the air.
Holding onto one drink would be better than trying to hold onto you–you won’t stay–the alcohol is always there for me.
The vodka doesn’t run.
There’s always more whiskey to soothe me.
At least they are reliable.
She wouldn’t fall for it, of course. All of that speech making was in vain.
I’d only gone a few days without a drink and already I was making plans on how to make her leave so I could get another one.
The water was still for a while. The wind whipped through the boughs of the pine trees above me, and I focused on them as much as I could. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe in and out in sync with the waves that consistently hit the sandy edges.
It was all too silent.
I smiled at the thought that it was almost as silent as when I had a few drinks in me.
Some days silence was the only solace I could find.
And in that solace is where I heard the retching.
Loud and clear, I heard Molly inside the cabin heaving and gagging worse than I did the night after a good time at the bar.
I jumped off the swing and ran in but the door was closed.
“You’re not okay, Molly.” I grouched through the door. It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t asking her any more questions just to get lied to.
She wasn’t okay.
Something was very wrong.
“I’m fine. Really.”
I pounded on the door with a closed fist. “You’re not fine. The least you can do is tell me the truth. You never used to lie to me–ever.”
“Hold on.” A few more coughs were followed by the running water and the sounds of her brushing her teeth.
When she opened the door, she looked more like the ghost of Molly than an actual human.
“What’s going on, Molly. And don’t even think about lying to me again. Just say it.”
“I’m sick, okay? Happy?”
She brushed past me, her rail-thin body sliding against mine. Every cell in my body awoke.
I hated all of this alive crap. I didn’t feel alive even when I was awake and breathing. I felt like a shell of someone who was once a good soldier, a good son, and a good husband.
What was left was just like one of those chocolate Easter bunnies–hollow on the inside.
“Why did you come here? You should be in a hospital or something.”
“Something.” She grunted back.
“Why?” I demanded, involuntarily raising my voice.
“How could I not, Lars? You needed someone to help you.”
I got closer to her. She was facing the window, shaking like I had been earlier.
“Jameson could’ve helped me. My family. Anyone. Anyone but you.”
She laughed a little. “They’re tired. They’ve been helping you. You don’t even know how much.”
“Tell me why you.”
“I just had to. If you needed help, if you needed someone, if you were hurting yourself. How could I not?”
There was something in her voice. The lilt in which she said the words.
She still cared for me?
That couldn’t be.
People who cared for each other didn’t leave.
They stayed.
People who loved you stuck around, right?
“How sick are you?”
“Sick enough to throw up every once in a while. Can we just let it go?”
All of those feelings she had revived in me–I hated them all. They had me wanting to cross the room and pull her into my arms for what she was doing. Because no matter what my body was telling me, no matter how many times it told me to run to the closest liquor store, no matter how many times it told me to drown myself or shoot myself or hang myself, my heart was telling me that what she was doing was the best thing for me.
It was what I had needed all along.
She was what I needed all along.
And darn it all if I didn’t listen.
It took three steps to get to her.
By the third step, my arms were already around her waist. She melted into me like she was waiting for someone to hold her upright.
I would be that someone–even if it was just for a little while.
Even if she left me all over again.
“I’m sorry you’re sick. I didn’t know.”
She shrugged and wiped away tears I didn’t know she was crying.
For the second time that day, I closed my eyes to reel in everything I was feeling. She felt so right in my arms again.
But I knew it would be short-lived.
I let go of her with a jerk. Everything came back to me in a jolt.
You can’t hang on to someone who is hell bent on leaving you.
“What’s wrong?” She turned to face me. “Is something hurting?”
I sneered at her. She was putting on an act. I could see it all now.
All that sweet outer coating was just that–a ruse.
She just wanted to hurt me again.
I knew it.
“No. Nothing’s hurting and it won’t be, no matter how you try to…to…trick me!”
“Trick you? What?” She took a few steps toward me. I put out my palms. I wouldn’t be touching her again. It was too dangerous.
“Look, you came to help me, great. Just do what you came to do and then leave. I know you know how to do that.”
She looked down, probably in shame.
She should be ashamed of what she did to me.
To us.
“Okay. Mood swings. That’s normal.” I rolled my eyes as she nurse-whispered to herself.
“Yeah, especially because of soup!”
Wow, Lars. Yeah, soup was the real issue here.
“I can’t…”
She ran into the bathroom with her hand over her mouth.
She was sicker than me.
I didn’t see her eating soup.
Maybe all she needed was soup.
Oh, goodness, I’m talking to myself.
A thought popped into my head and before I could even rethink it, I hit the door running. Really running.
There was no one who could stop me from getting a burger now.
No one.
Not even the one person in the world who could save me, she was busy saving herself.