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Three and a half years into a headlong marriage because of a night gone too far in the back of that wreck of a truck, and Helen wasn’t so sure.
Heaven help her though, she did love him. Even with the steep plunge into crushing disappointment. Even with the way he was breaking her heart.
Tell me you love me, Helen.Kevin’s pleas, spoken over the phone the morning after she’d told him he couldn’t come home drunk—not again—echoed with crystal clarity in her mind.Say you’ll stay with me.
He had slayed her with that. Every. Time. Because she knew that Kevin meant those words with his whole damaged heart. The issue had never been that she thought he didn’t love her. He did.
He just loved a bottle as much. Sometimes more. Or perhaps his father had handed him a legacy Kevin could not break away from no matter how much he resented it. Helen wasn’t sure which.
The first year she’d let Kevin’s drinking go without much more than a mild complaint. After all, he wasn’t a loud drunk. Wasn’t violent. Usually he just came home and passed out. Or was delivered home by Dave. But the thing was, alcohol was expensive. And the other more important thing was, she’d seen how his father had turned out. Had held Kevin’s stiff hand when they’d buried his dead-beat dad after a binge gone wrong shortly after Jacob had been born.
As much as Kevin disliked the man who had raised him in a nearly-always-drunk fog, her husband was barreling toward that same end.
Helen didn’t want that for him. And she didn’t want that for her boys. Deep down sheknewKevin didn’t want it either.
So she started making herself a little louder. Her protests a little firmer.
Rather than seeing what she saw and working on the problem, Kevin pulled away. Went out more frequently. Sank deeper into this alcoholic abyss.
Three days ago Helen had finally stood her ground.
He’d called to tell her he’d be late—was going out with the boys after his shift at the sawmill.
“You can’t come home drunk,”she’d told him.
“What?” His response sounded more caught off guard than anything.
“You can’t keep doing this, Kevin. The boys are watching.”
“I never do anythingreallybad.”
“You have sons who look up to you. Sons who, right now, want to be just like you. Know what Matt said yesterday? He said, ‘Daddy is all wobbly and silly at night.’” She cringed at the memory of Matt mimicking his wobbly and silly father. Whatever Kevin’s father had handed to Kevin, this was not the legacy she wanted for her kids. “How long do you think it’ll take him to realize why that really is?”
“He’s only two.”
“Matt is three, going on four.” What dad didn’t know his own kid’s age?The one who spent most of that baby’s life drunk.Helen grew more resolute. “Is this the dad you want to be, Kevin?”
A long, telling silence followed. Then with a tight voice, Kevin barked at her. “Look. They’ll be in bed by the time I get home anyway.”
“You can’t come home drunk.”
“It’s my house!” Now he was angry.
“It’s mine too, and we are barely making rent payments. One day it might be you drink too much of your paycheck away and we get kicked out. Then what?”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Kevin became all soft assurance.
A tear had trickled onto her cheek, because he’d said something like that to her before they were married. Only in that conversation, she’d told him she was a little afraid to be with him because of his dad.I’m not gonna be like him, baby. I wouldn’t do that to you.
It was turning out that her Daddy had been right.
“You promised me, Kevin.” She sniffed and then swallowed the rest of her cry. She wasn’t going to be weak on this. “Do you remember that?”
Another long pause. Then, “Helen . . .”
“I mean it, Kevin. My dad came over and changed the locks. If you’re not home by dark, and sober, you’re not coming in.”
“What!” All reasonable gentleness left his voice.
