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“How about you start by explaining to me what possessed you to go back down this road?” I threw out there, bitterly hurt by his actions. “And don’t even think about blaming it on what your father tried to do to me, because I found your stash the day before that even happened, Joey.”
He tensed. “What are you talking about?”
“I found a bag of prescription tablets in the pocket of your sweatpants.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why were you searching my clothes, Aoife?”
I narrowed mine right back at him. “I wasn’t searching your clothes. I was looking for something to wear. But more importantly, why were they there in the first place, Joseph?”
“Those pills weren’t mine.”
“No? Then why were they in your pocket?”
“I’m telling you, Molloy, I didn’t buy those.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine.” He shook his head and exhaled a frustrated growl. “Believe what you want.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve lied to me.”
“Well, I’m not fucking lying about this,” he spat out, and then threw his hands up in frustration. “I messed up, okay? I get it. I fucked up. I thought you were done, and I threw in the towel. I gave the fuck up, because, in case you haven’t noticed, Molloy, aside from you, I don’t have a whole fucking lot else going for me. In my mind, you were done and I couldn’t see a reason to keep this bullshit facade up.”
“What bullshit facade?” I demanded.
“The one where I pretend to be someone I’m not,” he snapped. “Everything I did, all of the changes that I made, I made for you. And then you were gone, so I just…” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Stopped fighting my nature.”
“Your nature?” I gave him a hard look. “That’s not your nature.”
He shrugged, but didn’t respond.
“So, because we’re going through a rough patch, you took it as a green light to throw the last three months away?”
“My father tried to fuck you, Molloy,” he growled, tone hoarse. “And in your eyes, I look just like him, remember? I’d say that’s more than just a rough patch.”
And there it was.
The reasoning behind every bad decision my boyfriend had ever made came back to his father.
“I was hurt.” I tried to reason with the part of him that was hell-bent on self-annihilation. “I was afraid. I was in shock. I was fucking reeling, Joey. I didn’t mean a word of what I said to you that night, and you know it, so stop trying to make me feel bad for it.”
He flinched like I had struck him. “If you know me at all, and you’re probably the only one that does, then you’d know that I would never do that to you,” he bit out, looking hurt. “I deserved your pain that night. I fucking deserved everything you said to me and more.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” I sighed, pressing a hand to my brow as my emotions continued to flatten me. “I know, Joe.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad about anything,” he continued to say. “But you asked me for an explanation, and I’m trying to give it to you.”
“Well, I’m clearly not done with you,” I said, urging him to hear me. “Your father did a terrible thing, that’s true, but it isn’t on you. Nothing has changed for us, okay?”
“I didn’t know that.” His words were barely audible as he swallowed harshly. “I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do,” I urged. “So, you need to knock this on the head again. Do you hear me? I need you to dust yourself off and keep trying.”
“I already told you that I have it under control this time.”
“See, that’s not good enough for me, Joe,” I heard myself reply. “I don’t want your assurances. I want your sobriety.”
“And you’ll have it.”
