Chapter Text
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MIKE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
PRESENT DAY
September 2nd, 2005 3:57 PM
Alcoholics Anonymous
“Hi, I’m Mike. I’m thirty four and I’m an alcoholic.”
His sentence cracked through the silence like a gunshot, old chair creaking underneath him. It reverberated off of the wood paneled walls of the rehab center, everyone circled around him nodding and repeating back:
“Hi, Mike.”
He wrung his hands together, eyes flicking from person to person. It was day thirty of sobriety, and he still was not used to everyone watching him like this. Like he might break or relapse right in front of them. He’d done it before. He’d probably do it again.
“Thank you for joining us again, Mike.” Delilah smiled, “And congratulations on thirty days!”
It should’ve felt good, should’ve felt worth something. But Mike felt empty and numb as he stared at his sponsor. She had encouraging eyes, and he’s told her that multiple times since she started helping him.
She motioned for him to breathe, eyebrows risen.
He inhaled. Exhaled.
“Thank you, Delilah.” Mike responded, rubbing his clammy palms on his jeans, “I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Mike.” She smiled warmly, “Now tell us—how has it been navigating sobriety?”
Mike’s heartbeat quickened, chewing helplessly at his bottom lip as a lump formed in his throat. He’d written everything down prior to AA, but his hands were glued to his knees.
He’s been sober for thirty days and somehow it’s been the worst thirty days of his entire life. Worse than last time he was here, worse than Will finding him blacked out at the local dive bar a block away from their apartment with piss all over his pants.
“Um,” Mike started, meeting eyes again with Delilah, “I wrote some stuff down. I’m not good with words, really.”
The group around him nodded along as he spoke, watching him intently. The AA group he was a part of had always been welcoming, never judgemental, and he was glad to share his experiences with these people. He knows how hard it is to talk about these things, this disease that plagues him, but everything is easier when you have people to lean on.
He wasn’t so lucky the first time around.
“Go ahead whenever you’re ready.” Delilah spoke, hands displayed outward in a friendly stance, “Take your time.”
Mike shakily reached into his back pocket and pulled out the small notebook, cover wrinkled and worn from rubbing against the fabric of his jeans.
He cleared his throat once, twice, three times, before gripping the edges of the notebook paper with both hands.
“I wrote down a few good things before I start to get to the bad stuff,” Mike laughed curtly, “Sorry. Anyway. My daughter, Nora, just started kindergarten a few weeks ago. It’s crazy to think how fast she’s growing.”
A few chuckles were heard from around the group as Mike continued to read from the page
“She’s obsessed with dragons. Anyway. My husband—“
A cold sweat broke over Mike’s body.
“My—“
The page started to blur, lump growing bigger and bigger in his throat, unable to swallow it down this time. Mike’s lip trembled slightly as he looked up from the notebook and to Delilah for help.
“It’s okay, Mike. Take your time.”
His body shook, fingers clenching the sides of the notebook tightly, crunching it against his skin.
He tried to breathe out, hoping to release something from his lungs, but nothing came. The person next to Mike, whose name was Daniel, put a warm hand on his shoulder.
“You got this.” He whispered, “You’re good.”
Mike nodded as if to try and reassure himself, before going back to read out loud.
“Sorry. My husband is an artist. He’s been drawing dragons since we were little. My daughter likes them a lot. She took one to school with her and she’s made a ton of friends from it. It’s funny to watch her talk about them when she comes home.”
Mike released the white knuckle grip he had on the notebook and continued.
“I spoke to my father the other day. First time in months. It went better than I thought it would, and he promised to come see me sometime soon. Not sure if he really means it, but I’ll take it.”
The silence in the room was deafening, Mike’s eyes scanning over the last few bullet points he had written down.
He skipped the last few, eyebrows wound together.
“That’s all I have for good things. Uh, now onto the bad things.” Mike let go of the notebook and rubbed at the back of his neck, “I’ve been in my head a lot. I can’t really sleep anymore. Being at home feels weird now because of what happened last week.”
Delilah leaned forward in her chair, “What happened?”
Mike shut the notebook, putting it inside of his jacket. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.
“I got served divorce papers last week. Things have not been going well with Will, and I don’t really know how to talk about it but now it’s out in the open, so.”
No one said anything. Just continued to listen.
“I wanted to drink last week when I saw the packet on the dining room table but I ignored it. I slept in bed with Nora that night because she asked me to read her a bedtime story. I woke up and thought maybe I had dreamed it but I walked out into the kitchen and it was still sitting there.”
“We’re proud of you for not drinking, Mike. That takes a lot of courage.” Delilah motioned toward him, “I’m so sorry about the divorce.”
Mike leaned forward in his chair, “Not sure what happened. I don’t even know what led to it. Will didn’t even tell me he was thinking about it he just did it.”
Silence again.
He picked at his fingernails, “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Mike.” She sighed, “You know that, right?”
“Yes. Okay.” Mike tried to muster up a smile but nothing came. He swallowed again and tried to refocus on the paper.
“Good. Continue.” Delilah sat back into her chair.
“I thought we were okay. I thought we’d figure it out. It hurts to be wrong but I know I’m an asshole for putting Will through all of my shit. I just thought we’d be able to work it out.”
Mike thought it was hard to pinpoint when it truly went wrong.
July 20TH, 2005
Home 9:27 PM
“You’re drinking again.” Will grimaced, pushing him away, “Aren’t you?”
Mike steps faltered as he was shoved a few inches back, shoulder colliding with their dresser. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it, but fuck. He was drowning in work and the only thing that subdued the pain inside of his head was alcohol.
He’d been here before, multiple times, and each time he came out better but this time felt different.
He was fucking wasted. He knew he was because he didn’t try to step toward Will and say sorry. It was like the words had formed in his brain but wouldn’t leave his mouth. His nervous system was buzzing, and he could feel the liquid sloshing inside of his stomach each time he took a step.
“No.”
His voice came out unsteady, slurring against his tongue, falling short as Will shot him a dagger with his eyes.
“Unbelievable.”
Mike tried to level himself by putting an arm on the doorframe as he wobbled. “Don’t be mad.”
He watched through blurry eyes as Will made his way across their bedroom, speeding past him to look into their hallway before tugging Mike closer to the bed. He shut the door quietly, turning around with his hands crossed over his chest.
“I didn’t marry a fucking drunk, Mike.” He sneered, “This is the third time you’ve done this.”
Mike sunk down onto the mattress, mouth agape as if he could fix this situation with a few simple words. Despite being drunk, he knew Will was hurt but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop the need that pumped through his veins, the addiction that settled deep into his bones and thumped through him like a heartbeat.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Mike whispered, running a hand through his hair, “Please—“
“No. You don’t get to apologize because you don’t mean it.” Will pointed a finger at him, “Your daughter is asleep next to our room. Our daughter.”
Mike closed his eyes and immediately thought of Nora. Her black, curly hair. Big hazel eyes. Her front tooth was missing and every time she smiled Mike was reminded of how much she looked like Will.
“I love you.”
“Not going to fix it this time, Mike.” Will scoffed, pushing himself against their bedroom door, “Why do you keep doing this?”
The slight tone switch in Will’s voice caused Mike to sober up for a second, realizing now that he was crying.
“I don’t know.” Mike muttered, body heavy. He wanted to get up and hug Will and reassure him that he wouldn’t do this again but he did. He would do it again, again, and again.
“We can’t keep going in circles like this. You’re hurting me, Mike.” Will’s voice broke on the last word, “I try so hard to get you to talk to me about what’s eating you up inside but you won’t let me in. Even after all of these years.”
Mike felt himself sink deeper into the memory foam, head lolling to the side. Will’s words struck a chord within him, but it felt as if he was trying to swim to the surface of his mind but was struggling to. He couldn’t form a word, or a coherent thought, and Will was standing above him at the precipice of the dock, hand splayed out for Mike to grab onto.
Mike couldn’t reach it though, and as he sunk deeper, he felt himself slipping away from Will and into a black hole that would only grow bigger.
“I’m so sorry.”
That was all Mike could say, blinking away the glares in his eyesight. Why the fuck did he do this? What was wrong with him?
“You’re not. Or else you wouldn’t have done it again.” Will answered, raw, uneven. Like his vocal cords were worn down from trying.
With whatever energy Mike had left, he rolled to his side and tried to get up, pressing his hands deep into the mattress to force himself to sit straight.
“I’ll go back to rehab. I’ll—“ Mike hiccuped, “I’ll go to AA again. Fuck. Will, I’ll do anything. Don’t—“
A wrecked, thick sob withered its way out of Mike’s throat involuntarily, as if his body was holding on to it for too long. It popped like a cork, slicing through the quiet bedroom.
“I don’t know what’s wrong w-with me. I try to fix this shit but—“ He slurred, “Nothing ever happens. I want to be good enough for you, Will.”
Mike was fully crying now, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he put both arms out in front of him, trying to beckon Will to his side. He could see Will through the tears, watching as he tapped his head against the wooden door a few times.
Will was hesitating. Mike knew he was. In his alcoholic haze, he could still tell when Will was holding back and pushing down the words he wanted to spew in the hopes to snap Mike back to reality.
Mike felt the bed dip down next to him, and next thing he knew there were hands around his neck and whispers in his ear.
“Let it out, Mike.” Will murmured against his cheek, “I’m here.”
Will was holding him, brushing his hair back from his face as he sniffled into his shirt. Mike had hit rock bottom again, and this was the third fucking time. The third time Will had to console him for his own doing, his own fault, his own twisted goddamn issue of being unable to control this.
Will smelled like their apartment. The autumn air. Cinnamon. Vanilla. He was warm and breathing into Mike’s hair like a lifeline, and Mike knew he was mad at him but he still held onto him like he hadn’t done a thing wrong.
“Do you hate me?” Mike spoke into Will’s chest, rubbing his face against the soft cotton of his shirt.
There was a staggering few seconds of nothingness, and Mike wasn’t sure if it was taking so long because he was so wasted or if it was because Will really did hate him.
“I don’t hate you, Mike.”
He felt Will’s fingers falter in his hair as they moved down to his neck, then his shoulder blades. His skin ached and his chest was burning as Will gently nudged him into the bed.
Will’s voice seemed distant, clouded. “Just go to sleep, Mike.”
Mike dragged himself up to his pillow, pushing his face into it.
His voice came out muffled as he pressed deep into the soft fabric.
“I love you.”
Warmth enveloped Mike and he knew Will covered him in a blanket. He felt Will untie his shoes, take them off. Remove his socks.
There was so much more he wanted to say, so much he wanted to explain to Will. It was hard to pinpoint why Mike couldn’t talk about what was hurting him, not truly. He knows if he tried to he’d end up by himself.
This would kill him and he’d end up alone. He’d be without the love of his life, without his daughter, without everything. It should’ve been a wake up call but everything else was blending into one as he let his head press into the pillow.
JULY 21st, 2005
HOME 7:04 AM
Mike woke up the next morning and got on the computer to look up rehab centers. He’d done this before, the first two times, and each time he got done with AA it felt like the cycle repeated.
Nora and Will were still asleep. It was only seven in the morning when Mike woke up on the couch still in his clothes from last night. And the worst part—the part that sat like a weight in Mike’s stomach was that he didn’t remember anything from when he got home to this morning.
As Mike sat down at the desk and aimlessly pressed a few keys on the keyboard, he stared at his reflection on the black screen.
He knew he had to do better. Be better. For Will. And for Nora. He’d gotten help before but now it just felt so far away from being something tangible.
The computer finally started up and Mike immediately clicked on his Gmail in the hopes of finding the link his mother had sent him a year ago. Sure, it was embarrassing that his own mother had to send him fucking links to rehab centers. Whatever.
Mike entered his password and watched the screen load, opening up onto a white page full of unanswered emails.
He hovered above the inbox section, clicking it quickly as he looked over his shoulder to make sure Nora wasn’t awake.
Mike scrolled aimlessly for three full minutes before he ended up in August of 2004.
His heart stuttered.
Received August 2nd, 2004 at 1:45 PM
From: [email protected]
Subject: Pickup
Hi baby!
Could you maybe possibly pickup Nora today from Mom’s? I have a client coming to look at vases around three. I should’ve asked you this morning but it slipped my mind. Pleaseeeeeee let me know.
I love you!!!!!!! :-)
Will
Sent August 2nd, 2004 at 1:56 PM
From: [email protected]
RE: Pickup
Helllooooooo my beautiful husband
I can pick her up. Work hasn’t been busy today so no worries. She mentioned this morning that she wants to eat tacos tonight for dinner. I’ll stop by the place near home after I get her! Ahhhhhhhhh :O
I love you.
Mike
He kept scrolling, finger cramping from how fast he was going.
Received August 29th, 2004 at 11:30 AM
From: [email protected]
Subject: Rehab
Mike,
I saw the email you had left open before I went to work. I wasn’t sure how to ask then, but we should probably talk when I get home. I’ll pick up Nora today.
Love,
Will
Sent August 29th, 2004 at 12:10 PM
From: [email protected]
RE: Rehab
I’m sorry you saw that. We can definitely talk when you’re home from work. I meant to tell you about it but I wasn’t sure how. Please don’t be mad at me.
I’m trying to figure this out. Didn’t want to upset you.
I love you.
Mike
Received September 15th, 2004 at 9:28 AM
From: [email protected]
Subject: Staying at Mom’s
Nora and I are going to stay at Mom’s for a few days. Jonathan wants to see her and I figured it would be good to take some space from each other. Jane’s gonna watch the shop while I’m gone. Let me know if you need anything.
Love,
Will
Sent September 15th, 2004 at 9:42 AM
From: [email protected]
RE: Staying at Mom’s
I didn’t think you’d actually go. I’m figuring my shit out, I promise. I’ve been going to AA like you said. Please don’t take Nora too. I don’t think I can handle that right now.
Just give me a few days, Will. Please. Let’s talk again in person before you leave. Once I’m done with work I’ll come straight there.
Please wait for me.
I love you.
Mike
He felt sick. Granted, it was his fault, but seeing it typed out again and remembering what it felt like to get that email at work tore through his body like a shockwave.
Mike hesitated for a moment before logging out and turning off the computer. He’d look for the link later. The desk chair scraped against their worn hardwood floor as he stood, joints cracking from the sleep he had taken on the couch.
He decided to do what he would always do. After he’d drink, he would wake up and shower, try to remember the night before, and make Will breakfast.
Try to fix the situation at hand with what little dignity he had left.
Showering was the only time Mike could stand under something hotter than the embarrassment he felt toward himself, and he’d let the water burn into his skin like a brand in the hopes to wash away the night before.
He really did try to remember what he’d said last night, but everything was congealed in his brain like putty.
The water sprayed across his back and it hurt, but he let it happen because it was the only thing allowing his feet to become steady again.
Mike finished his shower and got dressed. He promised himself to go about his morning as normal as possible.
A simple routine:
Wake up Nora.
Start breakfast.
Pack Nora’s bag.
Wake up Will.
Eat breakfast together at the table.
Take Nora to Joyce’s while they both go to work.
Nora’s bedroom door stood against the dimly sunlit living room like a beacon, and Mike made his way across it to rouse her from sleep.
Her bedroom door was green, and Mike stared into it like it would burst open and somehow fix what was going on inside of his head.
There were four letters, orange, blue, yellow, and pink, all spelling out Nora’s name. They were taped to her door, as well as a picture she drew of them.
There was a brown house with a red roof. Stick figure versions of Will and Mike were holding hands in the drawing, with Nora between them.
She had pigtails and a wide smile. Mike felt his heart swell, and he approached the door, running a finger over the worn white paper. The corner of it was ripped off and the rest of it was wrinkled, but it was perfect.
Mike turned the knob and pushed the door open quietly, sound machine instantly hitting Mike’s ears. Her room was dark, and Mike remembered the blanket she had made him hang up on her window because she couldn’t sleep in from the sun.
Mike stepped inside the bedroom and squinted at the body on the bed, grinning to himself because nothing really mattered. Not as much as this. Not as much as being a family, being a husband.
“Lenora Joy.” Mike cooed, stepping up to the tiny trundle bed, getting onto his knees.
Mike put both hands on the mess of blankets, feeling around, “Where did she go?”
A soft, stifled giggle was heard, and Mike’s grin grew wider.
“She has got to be in here somewhere. Show yourself, tiny thief!” Mike bellowed, fingers wiggling around the sheets.
Mike heard a small squeak, “No!”
In one quick swoop, Mike removed the blankets and was met with a missing front toothed smile and crazy black curls.
Nora sat up instantly, laughing up a fit. Mike reached over and grabbed her, tickling her, and yanking her up into his grasp. His cheeks hurt from how hard he was smiling, and Nora gripped his face with both of her small hands.
They didn’t say anything for a second, she just stared wide eyed at him, freckles peppered across her nose.
“I’m mad at you!” She spoke through giggles, breathing heavily, “You didn’t read to me last night. Mr. Frog will never be saved!”
“I’m sorry, baby.” Mike frowned, hit with guilt. He pushed back her curls with his free hand, “How will I make it up to you?”
“Hmmm…” Nora closed her eyes and scrunched up her nose, “Two books tonight.”
“Two?!”
“Two.”
“One and a half?”
“No.” She squealed, “Two!”
Mike shook his head in disbelief at how similar she was to Will, and he just sighed and hoisted her up to carry her.
“Fine. Two. But you have to eat all of your breakfast, okay?” He spoke, balancing her on his hip and ripping the blanket from the window.
“Okay. I’ll try my best.” She poked Mike’s cheek, “Your hair is all wet.”
“I showered, silly.” Mike stuck his tongue out at her as he set the blanket shade on her bed, turning to walk into the living room.
Nora wrapped her hands around Mike’s neck as he closed her bedroom door.
“Mike?”
He spun around, Will standing next to the couch. He had his arms over his chest, robe tied tightly around his waist.
“Good morning,” He swallowed nervously, “I was—“
“Nora, how did you sleep honey?” Will asked, padding toward them.
She unlatched her arms from Mike and wriggled in his grip as Will approached.
“Daddy!” She beamed, immediately falling into Will’s arms as he scooped her up. She clung to him, burrowing her face into his shoulder.
A quick, passing glance hung between Mike and Will, and suddenly the feeling of dread pooled inside of Mike’s stomach.
Will didn’t say anything else, he just carried Nora to the kitchen and left Mike standing in her doorway. He tried. Really tried. His brain wouldn’t let him remember what happened prior to this morning.
There was so much about himself that he needed to fix and he couldn’t. He tried to do it by himself the first time, that didn’t work, and the second time he went away to rehab for a few weeks and came back.
When he came back after the second time, Will watched him dump out all of the bottles he’d hidden. They went into the bathroom together, Will holding Mike’s hand as he turned the bottle of Jack Daniel’s over and watched it spill out into the toilet.
The golden dark liquid traveled smoothly into it, and Mike felt something die inside of himself. Will had squeezed his hand and ushered him to dump the next one, and the next, and the next.
They took the trash out that night, empty bottles clinking as he threw it over the side. They kissed in front of the dumpster. Mike remembered how Will tasted, sweet and salty, lips hot against his own.
He remembered Will’s tongue slipped into his mouth and the baggage he left behind suddenly wasn’t so heavy to carry after all.
It wasn’t heavy anymore because he had Will to help him through it.
And last night must have been the final thread snapping because Will didn’t kiss Mike this morning, and he was avoiding eye contact as he poured a bowl of cereal out for Nora.
Mike walked around the counter and made his way into the kitchen, carefully observing Will. He knew Will was pissed off. How could he not be?
Mike came back home drunk, probably the hundredth time, and Will still must’ve put him to bed and taken care of him because that’s who he is.
Will’s kind and gentle. Will loves people so deeply even if it hurts him. And Mike felt as if he was just letting Will hurt himself over and over, because Mike couldn’t break himself out of this spell.
“Grandma is coming to get you this morning, okay?” Will nodded toward Nora, “After breakfast we will pack your bag.”
Mike leaned against the fridge, “Why is grandma coming?”
Will pushed the bowl of cereal toward Nora and stepped to the side, hand on his hip.
“Because daddy and I are going to have a discussion. A grown up discussion.” He gave Mike a glare, but his tone stayed level, normal. It was still as gentle as it always was, but it shot through Mike’s somewhat calm demeanor and shattered it.
Nora crunched on her cereal loudly, nodding. “I love going to grandma’s house. She tells funny stories.”
Mike moved toward Will’s side and put his elbows on the granite, “She does, doesn’t she? She’s a very silly lady.”
Nora smiled again and hummed, continuing to eat. Will kept his gaze on her, his cheeks crimson. Mike noted the way his eyebrows twitched as he felt Mike grow closer to him, his body going rigid.
“What time is she coming?” Mike asked, biting on his bottom lip.
“Thirty minutes.”
Mike blew out a breath and felt himself stumble back toward the sink, heartbeat hammering against his ribs. Nora looked so happy. She always did. Mike wanted to cry.
He knew what Will was going to talk about. He’d heard it time and time again and still broke the promises he said he’d keep.
“Daddy will you do my hair?” Nora spoke through chews, “Please?”
This time, Will looked at Mike questionably. His expression was more open, there, and Mike cleared his throat.
“Of course, baby.” He let the corner of his lips upturn, “What do you want?”
“Ponytail.” She nudged the bowl, “I’m done.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
Mike grabbed the bowl and turned the sink on, rinsing it out and watching the milk turn to water. He could hear Will move the chair and let Nora up again, both of them discussing a new book she wanted to read.
Mike let the water run a little longer, and it was then that he realized he was losing everything.
He dropped the bowl into the bottom of the sink and gripped the edge with wet hands. He started to shake again, tremors taking his hands first.
He brought one hand up to his face and watched the way it pathetically trembled, balling his fingers into a fist as if that would help. As if anything could help the quickness of when withdrawal takes you.
And it wouldn’t stop. The shaking grew worse as Mike made his way toward Nora’s bedroom, where Will was changing her out of her pajamas.
Will looked up at Mike as he tugged her pants on, mouth parting as he noticed the way Mike was gripping his wrist.
Will knew what it meant. He’d seen it before.
Will’s face broke into something horrific, downright agony, and Mike bit down even harder on his lip, hoping to break the skin.
Will cupped Nora’s face, inhaling deeply, “Daddy can’t do your hair today, baby. How about I brush it out and you can have grandma braid it?”
Nora groaned, starting to flail her arms, “No! I want daddy to do it. He told me he would!”
Will grabbed her arms and held her close as she wiggled against his grip, “He doesn’t feel well, Nora. He can do it tomorrow, okay?”
Nora cried out, either from lack of sleep or just from annoyance, and Will’s face did that same exact expression that caused Mike’s entire body to go cold.
“Nora, please. He can do it tomorrow, okay?”
Will was on the brink of tears.
Mike moved forward and shook his hands out, hoping to calm the wave of tremors, but nothing worked. He sat down on Nora’s bed and put his arms forward.
“Come here, Nora. I promise I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Will let go of her, and she slowly turned to face Mike.
It was weird with how quiet Nora went, but she sniffled and dragged herself toward him. Her hazel eyes were a sharper shade of green now from crying, and she fell into Mike’s shaking arms.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” Mike tried to smile but his lips were unable to form it.
Nora got dressed quickly after that and Mike hid himself in the bathroom because he couldn’t look at Joyce, he couldn’t watch Nora go to her and have her look back at him with wide, unknowing eyes.
It was all of his fault. This sickness inside of him, this disruption, has caused so many problems for himself and for his husband, his family. And he can’t seem to stop it. He doesn’t know if he’s capable of it.
Mike sat on the closed lid of the toilet and stared out of the open bathroom window, the summer air filling the white tiled room. Mike breathed it in before he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
The bathroom door opened and clattered against the sound of wind entering through the window, and Will stepped into the room.
“You realize how I never raise my voice around Nora?” Will asked, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.
Mike sniffled and glanced over at Will, “I know.”
“Do you? Do you know why?” Will shot back, finally making prolonged eye contact with him.
“I do.”
“So tell me, Mike. Explain to me.” Will gestured between them, “Because it sure does seem like you don’t remember why.”
“You know I’d never raise—“
“That isn’t the point.” Will spat, “Tell me why.”
Mike blinked, and suddenly it all came coming back to him. He knew why. He’d known since the day they met, since the day they went to college together, since the day they got married.
“Your family.” Mike spoke shakily, “I’m not Lonnie, Will.”
Will laughed out of disbelief, “That isn’t what I’m trying to say Mike. I know you’re not him. But you know for a fact that the main reason why I hate this shit you’re doing is because I still have nightmares of my own fucking family fighting. My mother fighting my drunk father.”
Mike curled into himself.
“I do not want Nora to go through this. This is the third time we’ve been here. The third time I’ve had to clean up your mess. I would rather die than let my daughter go through the horrors of what I went through when I was younger.” Will snapped, eyes watering, “This cannot keep happening.”
Mike opened his mouth to speak but all of the words died on his tongue.
Lonnie.
Will was having nightmares again and it was Mike’s fault. Will was struggling and Mike was blinded by his own alcoholic rage of addiction that he couldn’t see what was happening in front of him.
“I’d never do that to you. Or Nora. I’d never.” Mike let a tear slip from his eye, unbeknownst to himself, “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
Will stood, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
“You’re going to rehab again. AA. Whatever else there is. I’m not doing this shit again. Or we’re done.”
The bathroom went empty faster than Mike’s arms trying to reach Will, and he sunk deeper into himself, black hole swallowing him from the inside out.
PRESENT DAY
September 2nd, 2005 4:45 PM
Alcoholics Anonymous
“Good job today, Mike.”
He swallowed the last of his water and turned in the direction of the voice, Delilah standing directly in front of him.
“I’m proud of you. Will would be too.”
Mike set down his cup and tried to offer her something of a smile, but again it wouldn’t reach its point. She sighed as she moved closer to him.
“I know there’s a lot of shit going on, but you’ve really opened up to us. To me. I’m thankful you trust me.” She leaned against the table of cookies, “How are you feeling after that?”
“Empty.” Mike’s voice was despondent, “I don’t know.”
Delilah put one hand over Mike’s trembling one, “One day at a time, okay?”
Mike nodded.
“One day at a time.”