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Georgia: Tell Ireland that I said thanks for the picture.
Gracie: I will.
Gracie: Can I see you tomorrow?
Georgia: No. Going home tomorrow.
Gracie: That’s great news! Can I bring you anything?
Georgia: No, thanks. Go back to work Emily. I’ll be fine.
Gracie: Well, if you aren’t going to be at the hospital I’ll go back to work, but I can stop by after and bring you lunch.
Georgia: No thanks.
He doesn’t realize he is breaking my heart with every denial he gives me. Or maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t care. I’m trying to remember everything that Devon told me this morning. Mick and Cami have tried to remind me over and over as well that I haven’t done anything wrong. I just have to give him time. I feel like I need to bust down his door and tell him to go screw himself and his request not to see me! I don’t bust down his door though. Instead . . . I text him back.
Gracie: Let me know if you change your mind or you need anything at all. I’m not going anywhere, Georgia. I’ll be here when you’re ready. You and me, remember?
No reply.
Not that night.
Not the next day.
Not the next week.
Just no reply.
Ain’t No Sunshine
Jonathan
It’s Sunday. I’ve been home since Friday, but I still cannot bear to see anybody. I don’t really want to see Devon, but I know I have to. I know he won’t leave me alone and will just break the damn door down if I don’t let him in. I just sit in the same spot on my couch, day in and day out. I only get up to piss and get more alcohol. Thank God I had a case of beer in the garage to get me through after I ran out of the hard stuff.
The thought of seeing anybody—knowing that Truman died on my watch—is not something that I could stomach right now. I don’t want to see the look of disappointment or pity that will surely cloud their faces. I don’t want to hear them tell me it’s not my fault when we all know it is. I was his back up, and yet again I let one of my own down. I am a sorry excuse for a man. I know that, and I’m sure everybody else does too.
My recurring nightmare is to see any of those expressions cross Emily’s face. I fought so hard to get her back only to realize that I don’t deserve her. She deserves somebody who doesn’t let everybody around him down, time and time again. Those girls, Emily and Ireland, they have become my everything, but I just can’t be around them. I am no good for them, and there is no way I can let them see me in my current state. I feel empty without them in my life every day. But if I am any kind of man at all, I will let them go.
The problem is that Emily won’t let go. She is a woman on a mission and won’t give up. She has this determined resolve and is texting me every day like everything is normal. Sharing her day with me, giving me cute messages from Ireland, and checking to see if I need anything. I can’t bring myself to reply, but I sit and read her messages over and over. It’s like my own form of torture.
If I reply it will only give her hope. I can’t do that. Clearly, it’s not good to be close to me because I tend to lose those that I care about. If anything ever happened to either of my girls, I don’t know what I would do or how I could live without them in the world. The best thing for me to do is just stay away, and as hard as it is, not answer her texts.
I smell like shit! I mean I am fucking disgusting. No, a fucking nightmare is what I am. I’ve been home for a week and can’t remember the last time I took a shower. I fucking stink! Even Frances won’t come near me. If it wasn’t for her, and the fact that she needs to be fed, watered and let out I may not have made it through this week. Devon, really should just come take her. I’m not fit to take care of her and even she is disgusted with me. I can see it in her eyes. She thinks I’m pathetic and she’s right. I am.
I have consumed every bottle of alcohol in the house and am officially out of my pain pills. I’m even out of the few sleeping pills I had on hand to get me through my crazy hours as a cop. A fucking cop. Who the hell am I kidding? I have no damn business protecting and serving anybody.
I’m sure I could be back to work by now if only I could stop wallowing in my own misery long enough to give a shit. Nope, I’m in the same spot I’ve been in for days, thinking I may actually have to leave the house soon to re-stock on some cheap booze.
I haven’t charged my phone in days, and Devon has pretty much given up on me. He hasn’t come by in a couple days, but that’s fine by me. I don’t need him riding my ass. I’m not ready. Not sure I ever will be. I don’t want to talk it out. I really don’t want to do anything but drown out my self-induced sorrows. It seems he’s finally leaving me the fuck alone though. Thank Christ!
I haven’t had a drink since sometime last night and I think it’s late afternoon by now. I hate feeling sober because it means I can feel again. I don’t want to feel.
There’s a sudden pounding on the door and Frances starts barking like crazy. She’s probably hoping whoever is on the other side of the door is here to rescue her from the monstrosity that I’ve become. I hear Devon yelling on the other side of the door, but I still don’t make a move to get up and let him in.
Finally, Devon uses the key I gave him when I moved in and bursts through the door.
“Dude, why aren’t you answering your phone?”
