As soon as the words leave my lips, I gasp and lift a hand to cover my mouth. Then I realize, I’m not all that sorry for saying them and I drop my hand away from my lips. The truth is, saying them out loud, releases me from my maker’s prison.
I’m free.
Free to confess the truth that will save me and my daughter.
“I need help,” I whisper.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Blackie
I needed something to take the edge off. Specifically, a pair of brown eyes and not just any pair, I needed hers. As sad and tormented as they are, they’re home. It has nothing to do with being an addict and everything to do with belonging to someone, loving someone. It’s a horrible feeling watching the person you love more than anything in this world fall apart before your eyes. It’s even worse when there is nothing you can do to help.
I knew something wasn’t right with Lacey at the end of our first visit. I saw the telltale signs and even called her out on it, but she assured me everything was fine every time we spoke on the phone and like a fool, I believed her.
“Here,” Sunny says, handing me a cup of coffee. “Black, two sugars.”
I stare at her outstretched hand and the cup of coffee she offers before dropping my hands to my knees and bowing my head. Setting the mug next to the phone, Sunny grabs the other chair in the room and pushes it across the floor until it’s in front of me. Taking a seat, she lays a hand on my shoulder.
“You’ve been sitting here since they left.”
That’s not true after Jack stormed out of here with my wife, I trashed the visitor’s room. Turned every fucking chair upside down. I thought Sunny was going to have a stroke, but at the time I was too consumed by anger to give a fuck. Seeing Lacey break and hearing her confess she has thoughts of hurting herself was too much for me.
I wake up and tell myself I can’t take my own life because I’ll be taking my daughters too.
From the day we found out about the side effects Lithium could cause the baby, I knew no good would come out of Lacey being unmedicated, but I never could’ve imagined it would result in her having suicidal thoughts. Worse than hearing her confess her truth was hearing her admit she needs help and not being able to give it to her. Once again, I was forced to trust Jack to do my job.
“Dominic,” Sunny calls. “Say something.”
I look at her blankly.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Well, for starters why don’t you tell me what you’re feeling?”
“If you’re asking if I’m jonesing for drugs, I’m not.”
My words don’t surprise me even though they probably should. My addictions were never about Lacey. Sure, there were times I might have used her illness as a scapegoat. Times when I got high because she was hurting. But that was just me being a pussy, looking for an excuse to fuck myself.
The truth is, I never blamed myself for Lacey’s illness. I know her illness is out of my hands. Hell, it’s out of hers. She can take pills but there might be times when she can’t, like now and they may not always work. One day she may end up like her father and be forced to try new drugs, hoping one of them keeps her sane.
If anything, that’s opened my eyes a bit. It’s made me realize I can control what’s wrong with me. I wake up every day fortunate enough to have a choice. I can either be a man I’m proud of or a fucking junkie. I can kiss the stigma of addiction goodbye, give it a big fat fuck you, but my wife can never do that to her maker.
“Yeah, a couple of months ago, I probably would’ve used this shit as an excuse to get high. I was in a bad place and thought wrecking myself was the answer to everything.”
“And now?”
“Now, I just want to be there for my wife. Do I hate myself? A little but not for the reasons you think. I hate that I ever gave her maker the opportunity to let her think any of my problems were her fault or that she was an addiction herself. Logically, I know no one can control what she believes in her mind. But if I hadn’t been so weak to allow my addictions overrule me, her mind might not have betrayed her into thinking I wasn’t capable of loving her sober.”
“You keep mentioning her maker. I assume that’s another name for her illness?”
I look at her quietly for a moment, recalling how the term maker came to be. I wonder if Jack knew when he was naming his illness, he was also naming a great villain that would carry from his story to ours.
“When Jack first was diagnosed as a manic depressive he adapted a name for it. You see, according to him, most people believe in some sort of god. The great creator of all things. Heaven and Earth. Possibly even Hell. But for Jack, his mind is his maker. She creates all the stories inside his head, all the lies and to him, she is his Lord. I guess it makes sense, or it did at the time because it stuck.”
“Wow,” Sunny murmurs. “I can see the parallel.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to be crazy to speak the language. I’m fluent in it myself.”
Saying that makes me realize how much Lacey educated herself to understand my disease. Part of me wonders if being an addict is what pushed her hand to become a drug counselor. I used to think it was her passion for helping others that drove her quest but the more I think about all the times she saw me through the dark, every relapse and how she tried to make me see myself as more than an addict, well, I’m more inclined to think it was her just trying to find a way from saving me from myself. I wish I knew then what I know now. I’d tell her the only one who can save me, is me. Actually, that was part of what I would’ve told her today when I made amends, but her world came crashing down before I could.
“You know,” Sunny begins, interrupting my thoughts. “I think the both of you are remarkable humans. For two people who have suffered through so much pain, you never give up.”
“Oh, we give up,” I mutter.
“There’s a difference between giving up and asking for help, Dominic. When you came here you didn’t give up, you gave in to yourself. You admitted you had a problem and instead of letting it get worse, you sought treatment.”
“I was mandated to rehab, Sunny,” I remind her. “The choice wasn’t mine.”
“Wasn’t it, though? Do you know how many people are mandated to rehab and do shit when they’re in here? Okay, so you were a bit of jerk when you first got here.”
“I fucked up your aura, didn’t I?”
“Sent it to Hell in a handbasket,” she agrees. “But then something changed. You changed. You put yourself first and I think Lacey needs to do that too. I’m not a psychiatrist and I won’t pretend that I am but from what you’ve shared with me, it sounds like she’s spent some time being your life coach. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t ask her to take on that role, it’s just part of who she is. Like it’s in her nature to put that baby she’s carrying before herself, she chose to put you before her too.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Okay, oh wise one, if you’re always right, tell me what I do now because sitting here while she suffers through a blackout isn’t cutting it.”