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They loved each other once.
And now he barely gets home in time to catch her ODing.
I'm not holding my breath about Dad helping Mom.
But him rushing here, insisting on staying by her side all night... it means something.
"I'd show you," he says. "But it's on my ass."
I shoot him some side eye. "What is?"
"A skull and crossbones."
"No fucking way."
"Ask your mother." He chuckles. "She was horrified by it. Which was the right call. It's not good work."
"No fucking way," I repeat myself.
He nods.
"When?"
"One night in college, with my buddies. We were drunk and young and stupid." He points to the lines of my sleeve. "This is nice. Intricate. Intentional." His lips curl into a smile. "And I'm sure women like it."
That much is true.
"Not that you ever needed help in that department. Even back in kindergarten, you were a heartbreaker."
"I was not."
He nods. "This girl, Sally, she was in love with you. She told you and you ignored her. She was crushed. Her mom called to try to get you to apologize or explain, but you were too young to understand."
That sounds familiar. Vaguely.
He chuckles. "That was a long time ago."
"Been a long time since you've been around."
His posture stiffens. "It has."
"Is this going to change things?" I'm not holding my breath.
"Maybe. Rehab didn't do much for your mother the first time, but this might be different."
What? "Mom never went to rehab."
"That Christmas when she went to Aspen with her sister."
I shake my head. That was a long time ago, ten years now. But the timeline makes sense. She was sharper after that. For a while, a few months at least.
"I can't say I've been the world's best husband, but I love Linda. I want her to be healthy."
"You could try not rubbing your affairs in her face."
"Your mother and I have an understanding."
Bullshit. He has an understanding. But I'm not interested in this conversation.
