Whatever he was going to say about my drinking was nothing compared to what I was screaming at myself. At this point, I hated myself. Hated that I had let myself drink again.
He came into the house, and the energy instantly changed. Whereas Scott had been mad at me, J seemed to be filled with rage and disappointment. It was the disappointment that pierced my heart the most. To have a loved one disappointed in you, was one of the worst feelings in the world. I wanted to run from him, and never look back. Never have to experience the look he was giving me right now.
He and Scott exchanged words, and then Scott left, without saying goodbye to me. I didn’t care. All I cared about was what J was going to do next.
We stood there, looking at each other for what felt like eternity. I crossed my arms, as if by doing so, I could shield myself from him. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and I noticed the muscles in his neck twitch.
Finally, he spoke. “Why?”
Out of all the things to ask an alcoholic, that was maybe the one thing we never wanted to be asked. For me, anyway. Because, it was the one question that I just sometimes couldn’t answer. Or maybe, it was the one question I didn’t want to answer.
I sighed, and fell into the couch behind me, dropping my face into my hands.
“I asked you why!” his voice boomed throughout the room.
Shocked, I jumped in my seat. I looked up at him. “I don’t know.” My words were pathetic, and he knew it.
“That’s not a fucking answer, Madison. Tell me why.”
Fucked. I was fucked, this situation was fucked, and I wondered if J and I were fucked. Again.
Resentment at what was happening flared in me. I stood and came face to face with him. “Have you ever made a mistake in your life that you felt like you couldn’t come back from?”
“Yes.” That was all he said, but it was enough for me to run with.
“I don’t know if I can come back from what we did to Rob,” I admitted. Finally. It had taken me years to say those words.
He looked confused. “You haven’t had a drink in over two years, and then today you get drunk. Because of Rob?”
I shook my head. “Today wasn’t because of Rob directly, but can’t you see, J? Everything bad that has happened since then has been because we killed him.”
“I killed him. Not you. And I still don’t see what you’re saying.”
“You only killed him because of me. And then, because of that, I started drinking. We broke up. I dated Nix. And the shit we’re in now is because of all that!” I laid it all out for him. Why couldn’t he see it?
“Babe, your thinking is fucked up. I get what you’re saying, but it’s fucked up. Everything in life has a consequence. If we all started analysing shit like you are, we’d all be screwed.”
“Alcohol takes away the shittiness I feel in my soul about it all. I haven’t felt like that for a long time, but Mandy brought it all back to me today. In answer to your question, that’s why,” I threw at him.
“Not fucking good enough, babe. You could have come to me, talked it through - ”
I cut him off. He just didn’t get it; he probably never would. “I don’t want to talk about it, J! Talking doesn’t solve anything; the problems won’t go away just because we talked about it.”
He was pacing now, and running his hands madly through his hair. “I think you should go to bed. This is obviously not the right time for us to discuss this,” he said.
“Yeah, well when we discuss it again, perhaps you can start talking about your shit too!” I yelled, and turned to go to bed.
He reached out and grabbed my wrist, turning me back to him. He was livid again. “What shit would that be?” he fumed.
“Your fucking club shit that you keep to yourself!” I yanked my arm free, and stomped off to bed.
The next morning, I woke up alone in bed. J didn’t come to bed last night. My head was pounding and my heart was bleeding. I didn’t know where our argument had left us.
I showered and got ready for the day. I also wasn’t sure if I still had a job, because I had just left the shop in the middle of the afternoon. The house was so quiet, and I wondered if J had already left. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he had; in fact, I would probably pay good money right about now to not have him in the house.
When I made it out to the kitchen, I found a note on the bench. J had left early, on club business. I felt a reprieve, if only for a short time. But it gave me the space I needed to get my head together, and start sorting through all the crap in there.