“I have a sponsor,” I respond, peering into his icy eyes that remind me of my wife’s when she’s frigid and unfeeling. “She’s probably done with me by now. A few months ago, she stopped reaching out.”
“That’s the thing about addicts, whether they’re sponsors or not, it’s hard to give up. Our vices own us, but it’s up to us to choose to alter our lifestyle to soothe that. Your sponsor, is she a recovering addict?”
I nod, thinking of Bobbie, wondering how she’s doing and if I’ve driven her to madness. Her love for Lo’s little brother always brought me a sense of peace, knowing it was more than a job to her. That I mattered, not just my progress. And that’s why she and I connected.
“She doesn’t struggle like many of us.”
He shakes his head immediately. “I’m sure, like me, that’s untrue. You’ll always be an addict, just as I will. It’s ingrained. An addictive personality that clings to something. She has her own struggles, but she just hides them well from others. Since you have a sponsor, I hope you’ll do what’s right for you and your wife and take that first step.”
With a sad acceptance, I take the card and wait for him to tell me why he came here.
“Lianna needs to be moved to a facility. At first, I didn’t know if she was battling the detox or what, but she’s going to need to be admitted soon. There’s something off with her mind, altering her behaviors, and until a psychiatric physician looks over her, I’m going to need to do this the hard way.”
“Whatever needs to be done, let me know.”
“You’re too good for helping her while struggling with your own vices,” he praises. But I’m not a good man. A very selfish one is more like it.
“Anything else?” I ask, trying to shoo him away. Understanding flickers over his features, and then he’s turning away to leave.
Now, it’s my turn. To change. To try. To fix my wife and our marriage.
“Let me fix you, Sous. I hate that you’re hurting and never want you to be forced to hurt yourself. I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”
“Toby,” she cries, tears slipping down her cheeks. Gripping her wrist, I feather my fingers over her cuts and see two new ones.
“What’s making you hurt, Josephine? Tell me. Let me fix it.”
Her eyes shine with tears, ones that are heavy and burdened by pain. She’s so sad at this moment, broken and damaged, just trying to live.
And that fucking hurts.
Pain isn’t an easy emotion to tamper, it’s one as invasive as a disease, it spreads and consumes, killing its host once its destination is reached.
“I want a baby.” Her admission is soft and bereft. It’s so tender and filled with desperation. It’s a plea all while being hopeless in the dark.
During this moment, I love her even more if that’s possible. I’m feeling an intense need to save her, protect her, be whatever she needs just so she’ll never hurt herself again.
Rubbing the fresh red marks, ruddy crimson smears with the action. The hurt in her solemn eyes begs me to stop and pretend they’re not there. The shame she’s experiencing is as present as the moon tonight. It’s so true and frail. Leaning down as the pain leaks from her eyes, My lips touch the vermilion slices. I kiss and soothe. I love and conquer. I’m here and always will be.
“It’ll happen, Sous. I fucking promise it will,” I swear. Whether we have to go to every doctor across the world, every clinic that specializes in fertile care, I’ll do it.
Not a fucking dime will be spared.
“It won’t, Toby. It won’t happen. I’m broken. So goddamn damaged and hideous.” I let her wrist and arm go, pressing into her. Her skin feels even more fragile beneath my rough palms.
Rubbing circles across her cheeks, I try and convey the emotions in me. Heavy ache burrows itself inside me, seeing and feeling every agonizing sensation she’s feeling.
How can I love the pain away from you?
How can I love you enough?
How can I love your scars if you pretend they don’t matter?
Her sodden gaze pierces mine. Sad and lonely, her quivering lips cause the inner turmoil to boil over and beat all the happiness out of me.
Kissing her nose, I breathe her in. Her sunshine scent mixed with the spicy aftermath of Fireball whiskey