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I would be lying if I said I didn’t crave heroin. I do. It will be a struggle for some time to come. I know that. But I also know I’m strong enough to withstand it.
I’m worth it.
I believe that now.
I’m ready to go home to be with my wife and daughter, and at the same time, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of failing them.
I take a deep breath as I pack my bag.
I put the picture Zuzu made for me on top, where it won’t get crumpled.
When Roger comes to pick me up, Mila isn’t accompanying him. My father steps out of the car. I’m disappointed, but try not to show it. He laughs.
“Expecting someone else?
I grimace. Was it that obvious?”
He smiles. “You’ve been away from your wife for weeks. Trust me, I understand. I’m taking you to her though. She wants you to come to her.”
“Where is she?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Mila does love surprises,” I nod. I’m so happy to be leaving and going home, that I don’t even mind not knowing what’s going on. The car glides away from the curb and my father chats idly about business, and I only halfway listen.
I’m going home to my wife.
That’s all that matters.
I’m strong enough for this, I remind myself for the twentieth time today. I’m strong enough.”
The car weaves among the traffic to the other side of the city, and then out of traffic into the outskirts of town. We pass through a gate, guarded by a security guard. It’s a housing development, with homes spaced very far apart from each other.
It’s nice. It’s upscale.
My curiosity is piqued.
We pull into one long driveway, a drive paved with stone. The car weaves up the curve, and stops in front of a beautiful house.
Not small, not too large, it’s perfect. It’s exterior is stone, and it’s solid and graceful. I lift an eyebrow at my father. He shakes his head.
“Go find out for yourself.”
Roger opens my door and I’m out the door. My knee is still stiff, even with the PT, so I can only move so fast, but I get to the front door as fast as I can.
Mila opens it before I can ring the doorbell, her face radiant.
“Welcome home, babe,” she says, gesturing me in with a grand sweep of
her arm. “I hope you love it.”
I’m speechless as I enter, treading over gleaming wood floors. It’s comfortable here. Very nice, yet still very comfortable. We pass through a formal dining room and a butler’s pantry and into a large kitchen.
“Your father made it so we could sell your grandfather’s house,” Mila tells me. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve bought this one. I wanted you to come home to a new start. Someplace we can start fresh with new memories, not ugly old ones.”
“I’ve never been happier,” I tell her honestly. She grins.
“Let me show you our bedroom.”
