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ut it didn’t help. “Anxiety attack.” My chest buckled, and in a horrifying split second, I started outright sobbing in front of Valerie. And I couldn’t stop. I’d never felt so hopelessly stupid and willfully blind in my entire life. I wanted to storm upstairs and shake him. I wanted to demand to know why he hadn’t told me. Did he even know?
I clutched the countertop and focused on the light from the skylights overhead making the granite glitter under my fingers. Over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, I heard water running then Valerie’s high-heeled boots clacking on the tile.
“Shhh,” Valerie soothed, dabbing my forehead with a cold, wet tea towel and a motherly touch. “You’re all right.”
Any compunction I’d ever had about showing “weakness” in front of her faded in the face of my misery. “Don’t…go,” I managed between sobs.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
If someone had told me I would ever be relying on Valerie in a moment of extreme vulnerability, I would have thrown something at them. If they had said she would put her arms around me in a cradling hug, I would have started something on fire. But it was happening, and I was so grateful for her compassion, even after all the times I’d been a complete bitch to her.
When I calmed down, my face was hot, and my eyes sore from crying. Valerie went to the sink and rewet the cloth with cool water then came back to wash my face. I let her, even though I felt like a child.
Maybe that was where the mothering feeling was coming from. Emma was the same age as me, so Valerie was literally old enough to be my mom. There must have been some kind of transference going on between us, a confusion of our roles.
We were supposed to hate each other, weren’t we?
“I take it Neil has something of a problem, then?” There was a gentle scolding in Valerie’s tone, but it wasn’t directed at me. She sounded put out at him. When I nodded, miserable, she asked, “How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know.” Just sitting there, I couldn’t put my finger on it. It might have been easier to imagine a time when Neil hadn’t responded to a bad situation by reaching for the booze. “It seems like…a very long time.”
It had been. Neil had been on pills when he’d returned home from seeing his mother in London after her stroke. He’d said he took them to cope with flying, and I’m sure that was a part of it. But there had also been…
“Oh my god.” I put my head in my hands, resting my elbows on the island. “It’s been every single time. Any time anything has been difficult or bad…”
“Then, it sounds like he’s back to where he was when Emma was little.”
I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
Valerie took the now room-temperature tea towel and refreshed it under the faucet as she spoke over the sound of the water. “Neil has always had a bit of a problem. He wouldn’t have told you, because he doesn’t admit it. Not to Rudy, not to me, and he’s hidden it from Emma. But I don’t think he believes he has a problem.”
“I wish…” I almost started blubbering again. “Valerie, did you not tell me about this because…”
She paled, and shocked hurt lined her face. “No. I never told you because I didn’t know it was happening again. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have been my place to interfere.”
“So, this whole time…” I almost choked. “This whole time, I’ve been living with some version of Neil that’s, what? Just the result of some low-level recurring addiction?”
“Neil is a low-level recurring addiction,” Valerie said, her mouth pulled down in a frown. “I could slap him for this.”
I had to admit, that took me by surprise. I would have thought Valerie would be happy that Neil and I were having problems. “Why are you helping me?”
“I’m not a monster, Sophie. You’re in pain. What was I to do, say ‘ta!’ and leave?” She turned and faced the cupboards. “Where will I find a glass in here?”
I pointed down the row of glass-fronted cabinets. Valerie got a tall cut-crystal tumbler and took a bottled water from the fridge. She poured it for me and slid it across the island, continuing, “You haven’t been living with some alternate version of Neil. He wasn’t drinking during his chemotherapy, was he?”
I shook my head and sipped my water.
“I don’t think he’s going to sober up and fall out of love with you. Honestly, I don’t know if he can sober up, but I know he can’t fall out of love with you. Still, this was extremely unfair. I know Rose has just died, and I know you wouldn’t look askance at him having a drink or two to blur the edges, but pharmaceutical interaction isn’t a proper response to grief.”
My chest hurt as words I didn’t want to say poured out. “I’m so stupid. I should have known. I’m supposed to know everything about him… I thought I did.”
“This isn’t your fault, Sophie. Neil is very good at making people see what he wants them to see.” A wistful note in her tone made me wonder if she was referring to their long-ago relationship. “But you’re also very good at calling him out for his bullshit.”
“I’m not sure I can do that. Not right now.” Not when his mother had just died. It seemed too cruel at a time like this.
“Not right now,” Valerie agreed. “When you return to New York, perhaps? Though I do think you have a right to object to this particular incident as soon as he’s coherent enough to listen.”
“Yeah. I’ll… Maybe I’ll call our therapist.” And shit. Now, she knew about that.
