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5. You must agree to write daily.
If you consent to the above terms, you need to be ready to leave first thing in the morning. We will be away for approximately three weeks, give or take. The regular staff and your mother will care for the children. She’ll bring them to visit toward the latter end of the stay. Addison is aware of the situation and together, we have put a physician in place that will assist with the detoxification process. I need you to make sure that you are ready to commit as I believe we both realize this will not be a fun journey.
But know that if you do not agree to the above terms, I cannot stay on.
Sincerely,
Myles
Jess folded the note and placed it back on her bedside table. The way she saw it there was little choice in the matter. She realized she needed to get clean and in the process, sort through a whole host of situations in her life. She would have to begin the process of dissolving her marriage, of getting her life and her finances in order, and repairing the relationships with those closest to her, most importantly her children. Jess considered herself lucky to have a man like Myles offer to help, but she knew this wasn’t the ‘be all, end all’ either. There was a lot of work to be done.
Thankfully, for her, she’d just made the decision that she should start tomorrow. In the meantime, though, one last bender wouldn’t hurt.
Jessica slipped into her finest party dress. Tonight was the Ladies Who Lunch Annual Gala. A date which no calendar need remind her of because this year it fell on her wedding anniversary. To be clearer, it was she who had planned it that way the previous year, knowing that it would be a night to remember. The Gala had always been one of her favorite annual events, and so last year, when she’d undertaken the planning she assisted in seeing that it was set for this exact day so that the day would only be that much more special. She and Spencer had won the championship dance off, seven-years running. When she thought back to the girl she’d been a year ago, she couldn’t help but smile at how everything had changed. Not simply small changes, but it was as though her life were a snow globe, which someone had picked up and shook, only all of the contents were different when they landed. Some of them were even in Africa.
She wanted to go dancing, she had decided then and there—even if she hadn’t been invited and even if she no longer had a dance partner. So when Jess fingered through her selection, it was an Oscar de la Renta she found fitting for the occasion. A red and black knee length dress. It wasn’t what she would have chosen had she had more time, but it would do. Jess picked out a pair of earrings to pair with the dress and eyed herself in the mirror, quickly noting the way the dress once snug, now hung loosely over her body. The curves she’d once had now no longer there, she was but a skeleton of her former self, she realized as she smoothed the dress. Makeup would help and so would a drink she decided before haphazardly digging through the back of her closet in search of the bottle of vodka she had hidden there. To her dismay, in its place, she found a note that read, “I don’t think so.— M”
Jess moved on to the bathroom and shuffled through the
contents underneath her bathroom sink. When had she bought all this stuff, she wondered, and why in God’s name did one person need so much? Thinking that maybe she’d forgotten where she hid the bottle, she rummaged through the contents of nearly her entire bathroom in search of the only thing she knew that would ease her anxiety. Feeling more and more desperate by the second, she tore out the innards of her vanity only to find no bottle, but yet another note. “Obviously, it is not here. Try another method of making yourself happy, instead. —M”
Damn it, she spat. Damn that man. And damn her too, for allowing herself to be babysat in this manner.
Finally, she tried her last resort. Scouring through Spencer’s sock drawer, she knew the cool of the glass when she felt it with her fingertips. She reached in and gripped it tightly, pulled it out and hugged it to her chest, pleased that she’d come up fruitful this time.
Jessica untwisted the cap and took a swig, gleeful that she’d outsmarted Myles. She took another long swig and let the warmth of the alcohol ease her fears as it filled her belly. Relieved, Jess picked up a pair of her husband’s socks and ran her fingers over them. She brought the bottle to her lips and took another long pull. How had this happened to her? To her marriage? How could her husband be gay? All these years… and she’d had no idea.
Jess took another sip and another. She promised herself only three, relented to having just four, and then gave up altogether when she’d lost count. It wasn’t until the room began to sway that she replaced the cap and set the bottle aside. Unsteadily, she reached up and forcefully yanked one of her husband’s shirts off the hanger. She pulled and pulled again until there were piles of them surrounding her. She studied each of them, took them in her hands, and let the memories come. It seemed each of them held a different memory . A different memory of a different time, a different place. Stripes equaled Spencer here. Solids, Spencer there. She inhaled his scent and let herself go to that familiar place. The place she so carefully avoided in the daylight, the place where she’d been loved and desired, once upon a time. It was a safe place, not like where she’d spent most of her time lately. Stuck between anyone and everyone watching her fall apart and caring all together, she replayed the Technicolor movie in her mind—of all that was had, all that was lost, and all that would never be again. Her husband was gay the whole time she knew they would say, but never to her face. We all knew it— but poor Jessica, she always was so oblivious. How could she have missed it, they’d whisper. Look at all those shirts he had. How many men have that many shirts?
She caught a glimpse of herself in the lighted floor to ceiling mirror. All dressed up, with nowhere to go. Jess laughed maniacally considering how far she’d fallen, just how deep she’d sunk. She considered her life now, a junkie, with no friends, a husband who was not only never coming back, but who had also squandered their money away and her life in the process.
Jess took one more look in the mirror then sunk further down and laid her forehead against the smooth, cool, hardwood flooring. If it had been up to her, she would’ve chosen carpeting. She buried her face in the shirts and let the tears fall until there were no more tears, only quiet sobs. Look what has become of you, she thought to herself. Look at you now. Alone and empty. It was this that played over and over in her mind until there was nothing left except darkness. She let the darkness take her and without any fight at all, she slipped willingly into the oblivion.
“Mommy?” she heard a small voice cry. “Mommy!”
“Mom. Wake up.” A slightly older, male voice. Jonathan. She felt him shake her. “Mom, quit playing around. You’re scaring Cate! And you’re lying in throw up…” He shook her again, harder this time. Jess pictured herself responding, she heard it happening in her mind, but at the same time was somehow wise enough to know that her children weren’t seeing nor hearing the same thing. She hovered in and out of consciousness, floating above herself and she saw the situation for what it was. Passed out cold while her kids were desperately trying but were unable to wake her. They were growing more and more panicked by the second and Jess herself was frantic, literally stuck inside her mind, unable to fix their problem. She heard a commotion, listened to the nanny’s voice call out, then the butler’s until finally, she heard Myles. Something about that voice in particular put her mind at ease.
“We tried to wake her up. She threw up,” she heard Jonathan say.
“Your mom’s fine.” She listened to Myles assure him. “She just needs a shower, that’s all. How about you guys run downstairs and put on a movie,” he continued. His voice was calm but firm.
“Dean, run a cold shower, would you?”
She felt a finger slip into her mouth and remove the vomit that was lodged inside. Jess tried to pick up her head, to assist, but found her body and her brain were no longer working in unison. Unable to move, she felt herself being lifted and carried and then wham! The shock of the cold hit. It was like a thousand tiny needles stabbing her body all at once and she was powerless to make it stop. Her limbs weighed a thousand pounds and Jess understood that she was too drunk to put up a fight. She heaved and instinctively turned sideways as she felt the liquid rise and burn as it rose up in her throat. She heaved and vomited, then vomited some more until it felt like maybe there was nothing left and the water turned warm.
Finally, she shifted and curled into a ball. She smelled of throw up and alcohol and everything pathetic, and still, the water ran. She wanted it to stop, she wanted to say as much, but the best she could do in her current drunken state was to focus on making herself as small as possible. Sometime later—time was irrelevant at this point as the room was spinning too fast—she inhaled the fresh, familiar scent of her shampoo and felt her scalp being massaged. She allowed herself to lean into the large hands as they enveloped her head. She mumbled several sentences, most of them incoherent, all but one. “This was my best dress, you know.”
“You can do better,” he whispered as he gently toweled her face and then to her relief, the water stopped. And even in her drunken state—as sick and pathetic and terrible as the situation was, she considered that maybe—just maybe, this was what love felt like.
Jessica sat up in bed and eyed her children. Catherine wore a look of worry while her son was obviously perturbed. She adjusted the covers and then propped herself up just a little more. Her head pounded, her throat burned, and all she wanted to do was pull the covers up over her head and sleep—but she knew she had to get through this, no matter what.
Jess patted the bed. “Climb in, you guys,” she uttered, her throat dry, her head still spinning.
Catherine quickly perched herself up and splayed out on the bed while Jonathan slowly pulled a chair over. The sound grated on Jess’s ears. She waited for him to sit and settle and as he did, she contemplated how quickly he’d gone from a little boy to a young man. He’d grown up so much in the past year. And she had missed so much of it. Jess took a deep breath in and let it out. She spoke slowly. “Listen, I need to talk to you guys about something, and I want you to feel free to ask me anything you want, okay?”
Catherine nodded eagerly. Jonathan simply stared and waited.
Jess inhaled, and then began carefully. “First of all, I want to talk to you guys about last night… you shouldn’t have had to see me like you did. I was wrong for letting that happen. The thing is… I’m sick… but… I’m going to be going away for a few weeks in order to get better. Kind of like how I did when I was in the rehab facility. You remember?” She exhaled and felt the tears well up then spill over. “I’m really sad that I have to go… but I know I need to get well, especially for the two of you. I want you to know that I love the both of you more than anything. More than anything in the whole wide world. And I am sorry, so sorry for what I put you through over the past few months. Even if you don’t understand it all right now, you will someday, and I hope you know that you should never have had to see me that sick.” She paused to wipe the tears, which were running down her neck. “I know I scared you and I’m so very sorry, for all of it—”
