“But do go to her.” I point a finger at him.
“I will.” He nods solemnly.
* * *
I’m walking down the road when I feel someone’s presence behind me. The person is hesitant to step closer. I feel her turmoil in the air. The person needs something from me but doesn’t want to be near. Interesting.
“Is he all right?” a feminine voice says from behind me.
“He will be,” I answer as I keep walking.
“Why did you bring him home? Was he hurt?” The voice is to my right now, and I glance at the woman. She vaguely reminds me of someone I can’t place. Throwing constant looks behind her and keeping a healthy distance between us, she keeps following me.
“Just drunk.”
“He’s drinking so much now.” Pure sorrow laces her words. I glance at her again. Her head is bowed downward, and she’s chewing on the inside of her cheek. Mark was constantly doing that too.
“Is he?”
“Yeah.” She nods and glances back again, her long neck moves in a swallow. “He didn’t drink so much before. I’m worried he’ll get in trouble at work, and he loves it so much.” The sigh that follows is super sad, and it makes me do a double take. “He’s been calling out sick a ton because of, you know, being drunk the night before.” Her voice shifts. “I don’t know why he would do that. He loves his job so much.”
“Because he doesn’t have anything else to lose,” I blurt before I can think.
She stops. “What?”
I stop too and face her. “He feels like he doesn’t have anything else to hold on to. That’s why he doesn’t care anymore.”
Her face pales. “He has a sister he loves very much.”
“Sometimes, sibling love is not enough.” I see how my words are breaking her heart, but she needs to hear it. Something tells me she’s the main character from Mark’s story.
“How much love is enough?”
“Are you asking me? Do I seem like a good person to give advice?” The corner of my lips lifts.
“You are the only one I got now, so yeah.” She shrugs.
“Do you love him?” I watch her face. Not really knowing this woman, I don’t know how deep her feelings run.
“Yes.” Her whisper is loud.
“So why aren’t you with him?”
She’s watching my face, contemplating how much of her story she can trust me with. Then she bites her lower lip and lets out a loud exhale. “He found out something, and now I’m afraid he will never look at me the same.”
“Why is that?” I narrow my eyes at her.
“Because he will see me as… a bad one.” The last two words are barely audible.
“A bad one?”
“Yeah.” She nods, not meeting my eyes.
“A bad one what?” I tilt my head with pure curiosity.
She swallows. “A partner.”
“Are you a bad partner?”
