CHAPTERTWO
“At some point, you have to decide to let yourself feel again. I blocked out the hurt by using, but the problem is you block out the good too.” -Me, while spreading my father’s ashes at sea. (Once Upon a Billionaire)
Walt
Last Christmas
Dee’s eyes flash as she shakes her head. This isn’t one of those fun flashes that leads to her leaping on me in a sexual tsunami, one that ends with us in a tangle of limbs burying our hurts in each other’s bodies. Those times when I catch her in my arms, cradle her fantastic, pert ass, and accept her tongue in my mouth. Those times when losing ourselves in sex trumps any high we’ve had in our collective pasts.
Sex isn’t supposed to be a substitute for sobriety, but it is a damn welcome respite from life when the going gets tough. Sex seems to be off the table for us tonight. This argument feels insurmountable.
Behind her, the blue lights on the tabletop Christmas tree glow, highlighting her cheekbones and shadowing the dent between her angry eyebrows.
“Don’t do this.” I attempt to mask my frustration by using a calm tone. AA has been a requirement to keep my job where I work for my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Nate, and Owen Construction, but meditation has been the true godsend. When I shut my eyes and watch my own hectic thoughts blow by, I send them a mental wave and remind myself that emotions are fleeting.
I hope this argument can catch a stiff breeze and blow by the same way.
“It’s done.” She folds slender arms. Her pale blue eyes watch me carefully. To see if I’ll challenge her? To see if I’ll agree?
“It’s Christmas, and I want you here.” I reach out to touch her and she expertly swings away. “I love you.”
Tears fill her eyes, shimmering there like glistening droplets of anger. She’s still pissed. Tonight I inched closer to losing her. I can feel it. When she overdosed last summer, her sister showed up at the hospital to collect her. Dee refused to leave with Shannon, asking to come home with me instead. I told Shannon she could trust me with Dee. That I would take care of her.
Shannon said I couldn’t keep Dee because Dee needed her family right now. It pissed me off, since “keeping” Dee sounded like we were discussing a homeless kitten, but I told her what she wanted to hear. Then, much as it killed me, I let Dee choose.
Dee ultimately chose her sister and agreed that she wasn’t well enough to live with me yet. We were in love, but the timing was bad. Letting her go was harder than getting sober. We lost each other that summer but found our way back to each other by spring. I thought by now we’d be solid, the worst behind us, but she’s backing away.
“You’re doing it again,” I tell her, anger seeping in to fill the cracks in my heart. Those are recovery cracks. Those damn cracks stay open until pain fills them in like grout surrounding tile. “You swore when you came back to me the last time that you would trust yourself. That you would let yourself be happy.”
She licks her lips and presses them together. When she says nothing, I continue.
“You know you can trust me. What you have to be careful of is not trusting yourself. It’s like you shut out how I feel about you because you feel unworthy.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me,” she snaps. “Two weeks ago, I drank, Walt. I’m an addict. I’m a bad influence. This isn’t about worthiness. It’s about you prioritizing your recovery. I’m no good for you.” She wipes her nose on her sleeve. “I am a danger to you. Are you too stupid to see it?”
I reach out, and she lets me touch her, thank Christ. When I bend to meet her reddened eyes, my heart aches. I won’t lose her again. We’ve come too far. “We take our lives day by day, Dee. There’s no guarantee I won’t backslide. There are no guarantees, period.”
“I understand why you never proposed.”
The accusation—an accurate one—comes out of nowhere. Or maybe out of somewhere, but I ignored the signs. I let go of her to scrub my face with both hands. “That’s not about you, and you know it.”
“I don’t blame you. There’s a part of you that knows I’m bad news.”
“Stop!” It’s not a shout, but I lifted my voice. Easing back into my calm tone, I try again. “I wanted to marry you before it was the sane way to think. But right now, I have to prove to myself that I’ll be good for you.”
“I’m not ready, either. I’m so damn scared.”
“To marry me?” I know marrying Dee this soon would be disastrous, but hearing that hurts.
“Yes. I’m just as scared of not marrying you. I can’t decide what I want, and not knowing is making me feel…fragile. Feeling fragile makes me want to turn back to old habits. Habits that are trying to destroy me.” Her voice cracks. My heart cracks. “I won’t take you down with me. I owe you that much.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I can handle you. You can handle me. We’ll get through this together.”
Shaking her head, she backs toward the door.
“Don’t go.” I advance. She retreats. “Dee, please.”
She yanks her coat from the arm of the sofa. “I’m sorry, Walt. I am.”
Then she walks out the door.