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“I think if I start at the end, everything will make more sense. I can backtrack from there.”
“Whatever.” I sat on the opposing couch, and braced myself for what was about to happen.
She took a shaky breath, and her eyes remained on mine. “I am an alcoholic.”
Stunned, as if I had been hit over the head with a bag of bricks, I said nothing.
“It took me so many years to finally be able to say those words – and to get up the courage to say them to you.”
I remained silent, waiting for her to continue. Words had not yet formed into thoughts inside of my brain.
“Your father and I were young when we had you. Your dad went to work every day; I was left home alone with a newborn baby. I had no clue what I was doing. You would cry, and I would cry right along with you. I didn’t know it then, but I was suffering from postpartum depression. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes, I know what that is. Everyone knows what that is.”
“Well, back then, I didn’t. All I knew was that I felt such a heaviness in my chest whenever I looked at you. I stayed up at night, worrying about every little thing that could possibly happen. I was sleep-deprived, and anxiety-ridden. I would beg your father not to leave me each morning, but he would just tell me that I was doing a great job and had nothing to worry about.
I didn’t tell my doctor what I was going through because I was embarrassed. When I said it out loud, it sounded like I hated being a mother. It sounded like I hated my baby.” She leaned in. “I never hated you. Not once. But, I was in pain, and I needed to find something to make the pain stop. It started with wine. I would drink a glass while you were taking your afternoon nap. Then, it increased to two glasses, and before I knew it, I was finishing a bottle each day.”
“Didn’t Dad see that you were drunk when he came home?” That was the first coherent question that had formed.
“Your father looked at me through rose-colored glasses. I could do no wrong, and even if I did, he would not have admitted it.”
“That’s the first thing we agree on.”
She nodded. “I got really good at hiding it. I know it sounds terrible that I was drunk while taking care of a baby, but I was able to function. I didn’t drink to black out, and I never threw up. I just needed something to numb the pain.”
A knot formed in my throat as I listened to her explanation. As scary as it was to admit it, even if just to myself, I understood exactly what she was saying.
“Over the years, wine turned into cocktails, and cocktails turned into straight vodka. I was able to drink without anyone noticing a thing.”
“So, you’re an alcoholic. How does that explain why you left?”
“I went out to dinner one night with my friends from the law firm. My boss approached me at the end of the night about drinking on the job. He had found a bottle of vodka in my desk drawer. His ex-wife was an alcoholic, and he recognized the signs. He told me about a great rehab facility that I could go to. He offered to pay for it and everything. I was embarrassed, and I knew that going to rehab would mean that I would have to tell your father the truth… and that you would find out, too. I denied having a problem, and told him that everything was fine. After all, it was fine. No one was getting hurt from my drinking. Until the night someone did get hurt.”
My eyes widened as realization set in. My mind raced to connect all of the dots. “You were drunk the night you picked me up from Shelly’s house and crashed into the fire hydrant?”
Her eyes filling up with tears for the first time. “I was worried about losing my job. My boss threatened to fire me if I didn’t tell your father the truth and get help. The drinking always seemed to worsen whenever I was worried about something. I thought I was okay to drive the night I went to get you from Shelly’s. I ran a red light without even realizing that it was red, and another car almost smashed right into us. I panicked when I realized what I had done, and lost control of the car.”
“You said a squirrel ran out in front of your car… but you were drunk.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I had to get stitches from the broken glass that fell on me!”
“It was the first time I had hurt you, and I swore it would never happen again. The only problem was that I couldn’t stop drinking. I tried.” She wiped a tear that had escaped. “I couldn’t stop. I checked myself into the rehab facility that my boss had told me about, but it wasn’t that easy. I had to undo thirteen years of drinking. I fell off the wagon countless times.”
I sat up in my chair. “Let me get this straight – you chose abandoning your family over simply telling them the truth, and letting them help you. How do you justify that?”
All she could do was shrug her shoulders. “I don’t have an answer for you. I was an addict. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just knew that I couldn’t allow myself to be around the people I loved anymore. If something would have happened to you that night… if that accident was worse…”
“I was in an accident thatwasworse!” I yelled, finally finding my anger. “You left, and Dad went off the deep end. I spent the rest of my childhood suffering because of you! Dad killed himself because of you! You might not have hurt me too badly in that accident years ago, but you still managed to cause the accident on the night of Dad’s funeral!”
“Merritt, I know you’re angry with me, and I understand all of the reasons why. But you need to see that you were the person who caused your accident. You were the one drinking, and you are at fault for that. It terrifies me to think that you’re making the same mistakes that I once did.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I wouldn’t have had to go through any of that if it weren’t for you leaving like a coward!”
“When I learned about your accident, and your father’s death, my heart broke into a million pieces. I never wanted anything to happen to the two of you. I thought I was protecting you by leaving. Then, I found out that you were drunk the night of the crash. Merritt, alcoholism is hereditary. It was passed on to me by my father, and I passed it on to you. I know you were drinking to numb the immense grief you were feeling. I know it because I’ve been there.”
Fire exploded in my eyes as I stood. “Don’t even begin to act like you understand what I went through! You weren’t there! You didn’t see the blood pouring out of his wrists! You didn’t see how pale his skin was when I found him! You didn’t see how the tub was permanently stained a deep red after that night! You weren’t there while I held him in my arms, waiting for the ambulance to come!” I choked back a sob. “You know what I told him? While he was lying there, in a pool of his own blood, I told him that I forgave him… that it was okay to let go – that I wouldn’t be angry with him.” I stormed to my front door, and swung it open wide. “I can tell you that I won’t be saying those same words to you. Now, please leave.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, muffling her sobs, while she stood. “Merritt, can we continue this another time?” She swung her jacket around her shoulders. “I know this is a lot to take in. Please don’t let this be the last time you talk to me.”
