“This is getting out of hand.”
The bill in my hand was longer than my arm, and the bottom of the paper nearly grazed the floor. Karen, who was sitting on the bed, shrugged.
“Karen.” I just looked at her. “I can’t possibly pay this tab.”
“Jack, you make it sound like I robbed a bank to get some booze,” she muttered, staring down at the floorboards. “I just wanted to get some wine. Sue me.” She looked back up at me, impishness and heat burning in her bloodshot eyes.
“This can’t go on.” I shook my head and pressed my fingers to my temples. The bill floated to the floor.
When I married Karen, I had no idea that alcohol had such a stronghold over her. Sure, I knew she could definitely hold her beer. But it was only about a week after our wedding that the empty bottles started piling up. Soon, most of the small profit I made on my farm went directly towards either the Vineyard or the Inn, where she could buy as much wine and vodka as she pleased. I could recall more than one occasion where Manna or Doug would send someone to tell me that Karen was passed out in the street, and I needed to bring her home. I can also remember her infamous drunken stupors, wherein she would come home in a rage, yelling and throwing things against the wall.
It had only gotten worse as time went on, too. I wanted to start a family, but Karen said that she didn’t want to give up drinking for the duration of the pregnancy. When drunk, she was invidious, irate, and just overall unpleasant. If I tried to leave the house, she would follow me around town, sneering and insulting me the entire way.
It was, in a word, embarrassing. Even her parents would blanch when barely-veiled gossip made its way back to them. Elli and Ann, her two former best friends, had stopped talking to her. “It’s too exhausting,” Elli had sighed when I spoke to her. She rested a hand on her very pregnant belly and added, “I guess it intensified when I got pregnant. I knew that, if we were still friends, she would want to see the baby. I also knew that she would be drunk every time.”
At first, I had done my best to ignore the majority of it. I didn’t want to believe that my wife had a problem, and by disregarding it, I tried to pretend like everything was fine. After one particularly bad fight, though, she had locked herself in a closet and threatened to end it all right there. As I sat by the closet door, pleading and negotiating with her, I realized I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
“Jack! Stop making such a big deal about this!” Karen threw her arms up in frustration. “Everything’s fine. You’re the only one getting a complex over a few glasses of wine!”
I looked from her, to the bill on the floor. Then I set my jaw and fixated on the girl that I barely even recognized. “6,000G, Karen? That’s more than a few glasses of wine.” I hesitated for hardly a second, and then continued. “I can’t live like this. I just can’t. So you have two choices here. You can either let me help you to get help, or you can leave.”
She stared at me, trying to determine whether or not I meant it. “Are you giving me an ultimatum, Jack?” she said sardonically, folding her arms across her small chest. She cocked her head and waited for my reply.
Without saying anything else, I walked over to the small closet that we shared. After searching for a moment, I reemerged with two things, one in either hand. In my right was a brochure for a rehab center in the city. The other was a suitcase.
**
The town was really a nice place when it was quiet like this. The fall air was tinged with voices, originating from the church. Everyone was going to be there, or so I heard.
“There you are!” Carter, the priest, waved frantically from the church entrance. He hurried up to me as I approached. “We’ve been waiting for you! Come on, it’s about to begin!”
I followed the enthusiastic pastor inside. The crowd of people meshed together in the pews all chorused their hellos, but my attention was drawn to the front.
Karen met my eyes, smiling. Sobriety did that girl good; her green eyes weren’t framed by red, the tiredness had left her face, and she stood just a little bit taller.
I sat down in the front pew, my eyes never once leaving Karen. That is, until Elli tapped me on the arm from behind. “Two is too much for me,” she laughed. I turned around to accept the bundle she was holding out to me, and bounced my baby a few times. She smiled gently, and then sat back down in her seat, holding her own baby in her arms.
“Hi, Mark,” I said quietly, angling the baby’s face towards the center stage. “Look. There’s Mommy.”
The lights dimmed, and Karen took her cue. Mary began to play the organ, Ann the flute, and Karen began to sing.
