Page 78 of Beautiful Life
“Do you love me?” he asks again.
I know I said it last night. I remember saying it. I even remember meaning it, mind, body, and soul—down to my bones. Even in my drunkenness, I remember how good it felt to say it out loud. But this morning is different and the barriers I’ve lived with for so long are standing tall and as strong as usual.
“Answer me,” he demands.
I nod my head in his hands and his eyes flare.
He lowers his face even closer to mine. “Say it, gem.”
I owe it to him and want to give it to him more than anything. As I feel my tears falling over my lower lids, I exhale on a shaky voice. “Yes.”
He leans in to kiss me, saying against my lips, “Okay. Talk over.”
He brushes the tears away from my face before kissing me again. Then he straightens, takes my plate to the sink, rinses it, and sticks it in the dishwasher. He smirks at me, cocky-like, before sauntering around the island, through the great room, and around the corner to his bedroom. I vaguely hear the shower turn on from far away and I look down to my coffee wondering what just happened.
I hear another whine at my feet and see Finny sitting with his happy tail sweeping the floor in back of him, probably wondering what we’re going to do next or if it’s later yet.
I put my hand to his head and sniff away my tears while vowing to my dog, “I’ll never drink again.”
*****
I look over at Tina, wrapped in the throw I brought her along with three other bags of stuff including more clothes, lotions, a little makeup in case she feels like it, and some more hair products because everyone knows new hair products make you feel good. We’re having an unusual bout of warm weather for the middle of March. Tina said she wanted some fresh air, so she and I are sitting on a park bench overlooking the gardens and walking paths of the treatment center.
She’s been quiet but has answered every question I’ve asked, seemingly reflective and thoughtful in her answers. She looks much better than she did when we checked her in just a week ago. Her coloring is back to normal, her hair is clean, and she even looks like she’s gained a little weight—not looking gaunt and sickly anymore. She’s gone quiet and as hard as it is, I’m trying to take stock from Tony’s playbook, letting her have her silence.
Long moments pass before I hear her say, “They said mom tried to come and see me.”
I turn to frown at her. “She found you?”
She’s sitting with her feet on the edge of the bench, hugging her legs to her chest and her head is turned toward me with her temple resting on her knees.
“I guess. My counselor came and talked to me about it. Told me you told them to keep her away but asked me if I wanted to see her. We started to talk about why you would keep her away and it led into a long session of what it was like for us growing up, how she was with us, things like that.”
“Did you see her?” I ask, not understanding where she’s going with this.
She shakes her head, looking back out to the landscape resting her chin on her knees. “No.”
“I’m sorry, Tina,” I say. “I didn’t think it would be good for you right now. It’s not like she’s an encouraging, positive person. I was only trying to protect you from that.”
“I know you were. I told them I didn’t want to see her in case she comes back. I’m learning I need to control the influences in my life and I think she’ll be too much for me right now.”
“I think that’s a smart choice.”
“She was an awful mom,” Tina adds, still staring out to the landscape.
“She was,” I agree.
After moments of silence she asks quietly, “How are you so normal?”
I can’t help my single sarcastic guffaw. “Well, I certainly don’t feel normal. I think she did a number on both of us, just in different ways.”
“Maybe.” After many moments of silence, she quietly adds, “I’m trying, Leigh, but it’s hard. Nothing has ever been so hard.”
“It will probably get even harder.” I reach over to squeeze her hand. “If you feel like you need to stay past the thirty days, I’ll pay for it. I’m sure Tony won’t mind if you stay with us at his house when you get out or you can stay at my apartment. Mom is there right now but I’ve just decided she’s overstayed her welcome. I’ll take care of that today. As long as you’re not using, I’ll be here to help you. I promise to do everything I can to get you back on your feet as long as you promise to fight to get better.”
Turning her head on her knees again to look at me she says, “I know you will because you’re you. I’m sorry I’ve never been there for you.”
I frown and tip my head to her in question.
