Page 61 of All In
She purses her lips into a fine line, and her whole body is tight and wound up. “Why does it matter?” She pauses for a quick second. “Because I still love you, Sam, and you know who didn’t break up with you? ME! I didn’t break up with you,” she jabs her finger into her chest. “I married you!!!” she screams.
“Shhh, you are going to wake Mikey!” I implore in a soft whisper.
She points to the hallway, ignoring my plea about our kid. “Those letters and emails, Sam. Those were between two people who are in love. Look, I get the ones that were from when you dated and before we met, but what hurts is that you kept them the whole time we were married. Why? Why keep them?”
I’m trying hard to think straight. Do I tell her? I owe it to her, the mother of my child, the woman I once shared a life with, to be honest with her.
“I kept them because Maria was a huge part of my life for a very long time. I would have married her if she hadn’t ended things. My formative years will forever be linked to her.”
“And you went and saw her when we went to your childhood home?” I look away. “You didn’t think I had a right to know that you went and met up with your ex. And not just any ex, the love-of-your-life ex?”
“You’re right, I should have told you.”
“Tell me the truth, Sam.” She gets closer to me, and she is in my face again. “Why did you meet her? Why did you write to her?”
I stand there and stare my ex-wife in the eye. Searching for the woman that I met and fell in lust with. And I realize that she is gone. Long gone. I lost her a long time ago to the bottle. I’ll answer her question. But I have a few of my own.
“Because I will always love her.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, her palm comes into contact with my cheek. Flesh smacking skin echoes through the air, tossing my head to the side, leaving a sting.
I let out a huff and rub my face. I look at her, and she raises her chin, proud of herself. And honestly, I deserved it.
“Yes, I love Maria. And I always will. But I need to ask you, who orwhatare you in love with, Erica? Because I know it wasn’t me. Or your son.” I decide right here and now that it’s time we have this conversation. She knows why we split. But we never had an open and honest discussion about it. Now is as good as a time as any.
She takes in a sharp intake of breath, obviously shocked that I have turned the tables on her. “Every single day.” I march back into the kitchen, grab the bottleof whiskey, and hold it out to her. “You choose this over Mikey and me. Every single day.”
“Don’t you dare turn this around on me!”
“This bottle”—I slam it down on the counter—“has nothing to do with Maria or the way that I feel about her. This is all you. Should I have been emailing Maria? No. It hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But your drinking is something we should talk about.”
“Right now?”
“Why not?” I shrug. “You were awfully eager to dive into my shortcomings at”—I look at the clock on the wall, finally getting the time—“four a.m. Let’s talk about yours.”
She stands there staring at me, and tears form.
“What are you accusing me of?” she asks in a whisper.
“You’re a drunk, Erica. Or I believe the technical term is ‘alcoholic.’ And it’s affecting your relationship with Mikey and ended our marriage.” I stop to take in a breath, my hand on my hips as I gawk at the tan Berber carpet, trying to gather my thoughts. I meet her eyes, and tears are streaming down her face now. “You know what? Forget about our marriage and relationship, which is over obviously. What about Mikey? You never hold him.”
She scoffs and starts storming back to the spare bedroom. I’ve hit a nerve. I’m hot on her trail, talking to her back as she walks. “When it’s your time, you don’t do anything for him!” I tick accusations off on my fingers. “You never bathe him, never spend time with him, never put him to bed, never eat with him, play with him—”
“ENOUGH!” she screams as she turns in my direction, pointing at me. “How dare you accuse me of not loving my son! I love Mikey!!”
“Do you? Because other than giving birth, how have you been a mother to him? I am basically a single father, Erica. And you know what? I love it. Because I love him!”
She walks over to the dresser, stepping on the letters, and grabs her jeans. With anger, she shoves her legs into the pants. “Great!” I throw my hands up in the air. “Where are you going? We need to talk about this and figure this out.”
She’s now dressed with her coat on and running out of the bedroom. I follow her and watch her grab her purse and keys. I make a desperate attempt to snatch the keys from her hand, but she quickly evades my grasp. There is no way I am letting her drive because I have no clue how much she has drunk tonight. “Give me the keys, Erica!”
“Geez, Sam! I’m not going to drive! Give me some credit, will you? I’m going for a walk to … I don’t know … cool down. Also to get away from you!”
“And go drink, no doubt,” I accuse. And I mean every word of what I’ve said to her tonight. She needs to know how her behavior is affecting us.
After making her way to the door, she grabs the handle, and before she leaves, she looks back at me. “You know what, Sam, you’re free. Go be with Maria. Or Cara. It doesn’t matter anymore. Don’t wait up for me.”
“HAVE I EVER?!” I scream as she storms out. I watch her walk out into the windy night, and then I slam the door. My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I anxiously expect the sound of Mikey’s cries. Thank goodness my son can sleep through anything because our screams have been replaced with nothing but the hum of the furnace.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the whiskey resting on the counter. Walking over to the bottle, I yank it off the sleek corian surface, the glass cool to the touch. I drag my tired legs over to the sink and tip the bottle as the brown liquid waterfalls into the sink. I watch it spiral down the drain, a perfect reflection of the demise of my marriage.
