Page 48 of What We Broke

He turns his body to face me. “It was the only time.”

“Why did you do it?” Dr. Sosa asks.

Despite her navigating the direction of the session, Leo only talks to me.

“I told you I was visiting Lola,” he starts. “Remember when we were buying furniture for Lola’s room and I found that house-shaped toddler bed?”

“Yeah,” I draw out, not sure how one is related to the other.

“You told me there was still at least eighteen months or more till she needed that bed, but I wanted her to have that one,” he reminisces. “I remember calling the store and they told me there was an eight-month wait on the bed anyway. It was perfect,” he adds. “So, I paid in full and they said they would call me when the bed came in.”

The puzzle pieces start clicking together as he continues to explain. “I forgot I ordered it and they called.” I watch his throat bob. “So here I am, sitting beside my daughter’s grave, talking to a woman who’s telling me how she has the same bed for her granddaughter and she knows just the place to refer me to for bed sheets.”

Wet, green eyes dart between me and Dr. Sosa. “I lost it,” he admits, hanging his head in shame. “I took myself to the bar and I drank. And drank. And drank.”

“But why did you get in the car?” I find myself asking the question now that I know he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt himself. “You know you could’ve called me. You could’ve called Gio,” I amend, knowing he’s not yet in a place to call me when he needs help.

“I didn’t realize how much I’d drank till it was too late,” he tells me. “And I thought if I could just get myself home, save myself from another lecture from Gio, then the next day would be better.”

The three of us sit in silence, Leo and I not sure where to go from here. I’m grateful to get the bigger picture, but it doesn’t change his recklessness and my concerns.

“What happened after you were arrested?” Dr. Sosa asks. “What were the consequences?”

“My license has been suspended for six months,” he informs her. “I have a two-thousand-dollar fine to pay, plus the lawyer fees, and I was ordered to attend an outpatient rehab program. It’s one day a week for twelve weeks.”

“How do you feel about the outpatient rehab program?” she asks him.

With my hands clasped together and my chin to my chest, I wait for his answer. This is the exact moment where it all fell apart for us the other day.

I know he knows he has a problem, but I also know how hard it is for him to admit it. Because for him there is only one way to be an alcoholic, and that’s like his parents. And he isn’t them.

“I don’t see the point,” he says. “But considering I am currently jobless, one day of not being at home isn’t going to kill me.”

I hear the sarcasm, but I also hear the concession, and that’s enough for me.

“That’s good,” Dr. Sosa praises. “I think you might actually find some benefit in it by the end of the twelve weeks. And you know you can always check in with me after those sessions, especially if you feel like they might become too much.”

She doesn’t elaborate on what “too much” actually means, but her offer to be there for him, even when we’re not inside this room, gives me both hope and comfort.

“Before I forget.” She twirls her pen between her fingers as she speaks. “I wanted to know if you two have managed to agree on a number of sessions you could do together, or for how long you may want to do them.”

Our eyes meet, and dread settles in my stomach. I’m not ready to hear his answer. I’m not ready for this to be the beginning of the end.

“It’s up to Jesse,” he says, knocking the wind out of me.

My eyes widen. “The fuck it is.”

“Why do you say that, Leo?” Dr. Sosa interjects.

“He wanted us to come to therapy,” he says, shifting his gaze to hers. “He said he wouldn’t agree to a divorce without therapy.”

He thinks he’s so clever trying to turn the tables on me. “If that’s the case,” I respond nonchalantly, “then I suggest we commit to a year of therapy.”

“Are you kidding me?” he blurts out.

“You said it was up to me.”

“Okay.” Dr. Sosa puts her hands up in the air. “What if we stop there for a second. I have a follow-up question to ask you both.

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