Faded Perfection (Beautifully Flawed Book 2) (9 page)

The weekends were the hardest because I couldn’t work. Adam made sure of that when Jesse restricted the rights on my computer, but that didn’t mean he was there for me any more than before. Saturday I thought he might stick around, but when I woke he was already putting coffee in a thermos. He kissed my head before going out the door and leaving me in the empty apartment with nothing much to do. I made my way over to Bobby’s and drowned myself in memories. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I walked the few blocks to Starbucks and spent an hour with a coffee before heading to the bookstore. I practically bought out half of the bargain section before going home and falling asleep ten pages into the first book. Sunday came, and I asked Adam if he would go with me to see Tara. Just like I did every Sunday, and his response was unchanged. He had something to do.

Of course, he did. I nodded, kissed him and then left, crying on the drive to the recovery center.  When I arrived, I stood at the threshold of Tara’s room, and my body reacted instantly; my nerves causing my skin to crawl with a tingling sensation as my eyes burned. She looked like herself now, albeit a paler, more intense version—but she wasn’t covered in the bruises that made the contents of my stomach come up. My stomach still shifted in unease as I stared at her sleeping in the bed. The windows were open, casting a cool spring breeze over her and wafting her long hair across her face as the sun cascaded over her frame. I swallowed, my nails digging into my palms as I finally stepped into the room. I sat down beside her, wondering if I should wake her up. I could only bear to come once a week, because by the end of the visit I was hollower than when I woke up that morning. It seemed impossible, but each time it was the same. We talked about the same things because she was still struggling to remember anything from her short-term memory. She would get frustrated, but at least now she knew where she was and why she was there. She was still having trouble remembering what happened to Bobby, though, and that was the part I dreaded the most. I managed to get around the conversation during the handful of times I visited since she woke up, but I knew eventually I needed to face my fears and tell her, and keep telling her. That was the only way she was going to remember.

I reached out and slid my hand under hers. My stomach fluttered as I moved my lips, suddenly parched. “Hey, girl. It’s me again.”

I watched her face, looking for any sign that she was going to wake up. My body relaxed, and I sat back in the chair as I looked at her. I could never tell her what was going on if she was awake.

“It’s been almost three and a half months since I heard Bobby’s voice…” I coughed as I fought back tears.  “It hasn’t got easier… I wish I could talk to you –really talk to you…or anyone.” I closed my eyes tighter. “I’m trying to be strong for Adam. He’s…” I paused as I choked on the word. “Drinking. I think he’s more of the functioning drunk. When I wake up he smells like booze…so I guess he’s drinking at night, but I don’t know for sure.”

I pulled my head up as I took a deep breath, letting my eyes go back up to her face. “He had Jesse block my computer rights last week. Now, I have no excuse not to sleep.” I looked at the ceiling. “I still don’t, though. Sometimes I just sit and stare at the wall.”

I put my head in my hands, pinching my nose between my palms as I stared at her comfortable breathing. “I don’t feel anything anymore, but I feel it. God, everything’s so fucked up. I’m so hollow…empty. I feel like my soul has been sucked into the ground where Bobby is. I just…I just want him back. I want everything back. I want you to be able to talk to me about these things.” The tears hinged my eyelashes now, blurring her. “Tara, I don’t…I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m watching Adam self-destruct, and he’s disappearing as fast as I am. But no one knows I’m disappearing. They all think I’m doing amazing for what’s happened, but I’m dying, and there’s no one to save me.”

I heard steps behind me, and jumped, glancing over my shoulder. I didn’t want anyone to know the things I told Tara when she was sleeping because this wasn’t the first time I’d done this. I stared at the empty door frame, my brows furrowing. There was no one there. I shook my head before turning back to Tara, and her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks.

She squeezed my hand as she woke. “Hey,” I whispered. “Sleeping in the middle of the afternoon– that’s the life.”

Tara laughed as she pushed herself up. “Sure would be if it wasn’t because I’m so tired from doing normal things.”

I put my other hand on top of hers. “How’s the walking coming?”

Her upper lip curled in the corner as she heaved a sigh. “I can’t do it yet. You’d think since it’s so easy a baby can do it that I would be able to figure it out.”

I cocked my head at her and forced a smile to my lips as I replied, “They get to crawl first, though.”

“Thank God the therapists haven’t had me do that. Can you imagine that?”

I chuckled to myself, and she slapped my arm. “So how long were you being a creeper watching me sleep?”

“Not long,” I replied, and my face burned with the lie. Especially seeing I was talking to her…even creepier. If only she knew how fucked up I was.

She raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. How’s Adam?”

Her eyes fogged, and I knew what was coming next as she shook her head, her chin trembling as her brain no doubt fought against dark memories.

Probably drunk again.

“Good,” I replied.

She smiled, and the fog disappeared. Whatever memory she was fighting was tucked away. “He calls me every day.”

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing. “He what?”

Tara used her hand to symbol a phone and put it up to her ear. “Calls me.”

“Every day?” I repeated, and my voice was as breathless as I was. My chest constricted.

Her eyes widened, and she slowly nodded. “I wish he’d just come, but he says it’s too hard–something to do with Bobby.”

She blinked hard, and her hand squeezed mine so tight I flinched. “Tara?” I asked.

She shook her head as if she could rid herself of the thought. “Sorry, I still get confused about things. I miss Bobby.”

Me too.
“I know.”

My eyes drifted to the dried, brittle white rose on the window sill. Her body trembled, and my eyes shot back to her. She put her hands to her face, pulling her knees to her chest and I stood.

“It’s okay, girl,” I said as I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her back as her body wracked with a sob.

A part of her knew.

A part of her was fighting.

And I knew exactly how that felt.

She leaned up, and I pulled her into my arms, rocking her in my arms until her sobs quieted. She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what that was about…it’s like there’s a hole in my soul.”

I pulled my lips into my mouth as I nodded. Maybe we couldn’t talk about it, but somewhere inside of her she understood. Somehow that made it easier.

“Thank you,” Tara said, squeezing my thigh; “for being here for me. Eventually, I’ll figure this all out and be able to go home.”

“Any news on when they’ll let you go?” I asked. I wondered if that would be better or worse for her memories.

“Depends.” Tara bit her lip. “I have to remember a bit more — I’m still having breakdowns like that, so I’m not allowed to be alone. As soon as I’m allowed out, can we please get Starbucks and go shopping?”

“Of course, but you don’t have to wait for Starbucks–next time I come I’ll bring you some — okay?”

I watched as her shoulders slouched, and her lips pushed out.  “I don’t know if they’ll let me have caffeine–might stimulate me to remember too much at once or something.”

I squeezed her hand, now entwined with mine. “They make decaf.”

Her lip twitched. “What’s the point of coffee if it’s decaf?”

I rolled my eyes, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. “That’s what I get.”

“You’re silly, Riv,” she replied, and her smile sent tingles of warmth through my body.

“I should get going. Have to make the boy dinner,” I replied as I pulled my phone out and looked at the time.  It was almost six o’clock, and Adam hadn’t even texted to see where I was. I wasn’t sure if I needed to make him dinner, or if I was avoiding the inevitable Bobby question.

“Tell him I want
him
to bring me the Starbucks. I need some eye candy,” she replied. “He’s not as good as…”

She bit her lip, and her eyes faded once again before she let them come up to mine. The warmth seemed to have disappeared.

“See you soon,” Tara replied, and I nodded before turning out of the room.

~~~

When I slipped into the apartment it was dim; lit only by the light in the bedroom and Adam’s shoes sat by the entryway. I closed the door behind me, inhaling through my nose as I leaned my head back. I counted to three before slipping off my shoes and walking to the bedroom with them in my hand. I could see Adam sitting on the balcony, and I knew from the way he was sitting he was asleep.

Don’t look, River. It’s not worth it.

I shook my head as I slipped off my clothes and grabbed a pair of yoga pants and one of Adam’s t-shirts. I stared at the mirror as my whole body started to shake and tears streamed down my face. I needed him to be awake, to talk to him about the battle I saw in Tara’s eyes–to ask his advice on what to say to her. I turned towards the balcony and made my way out to sit across from him, my vision blurring as I pulled my knees to my body.

His chin was buried in his chest, and a half empty bottle of liquor sat his hand at his side. I shook my head as I looked up at the sky, the salt of my tears sliding over my lips.

 
Slipping.

We were slipping into our crutches–his in the bottle and mine in my silence and work. My eyes drifted down, and I leaned forward to pull the bottle out of his limp hands. I held it in mine, staring at the amber liquid before sliding my head into my forearms as my mind spun.

“We’re masochists for watching each other with anyone but one another.”

“So why do you torture me, River?”

My eyelashes fluttered with the weight of the water on them as the memory kissed me and faded away. A bottle like this led to that…and now, now it was ripping my heart apart.

My lips trembled, and my chest heaved as I stared at the bottle. I hated the way it tasted.

I hated it.

But now it was tempting me.

I needed something—anything to quench the undying thirst; anything to seal the hemorrhaging in my heart.

My eyes slipped through the bottle to Adam’s frame, magnified by the empty part of the glass and it slid through my hands before tittering on its side until it toppled over. I watched as the alcohol rushed out, and then trickled it’s last drops over the cold metal grates. When my eyes lifted, Adam’s bloodshot eyes were locked on me. He blinked at me but didn’t say anything. His eyes looked passed me and then fell to his hands as his lips twitched. I swallowed before standing, and as I passed Adam his hand wrapped around my wrist.

His voice was hoarse as he whispered, “No.”

I looked down at him and shook my head. I wanted to ask why, but nothing would come out.

I didn’t feel anything.

He seemed to know that.

He tightened his grip, pulling me down into his lap. I closed my eyes, burying my head in his wrinkled button-up as he ran his fingers through my hair, kissing the top of my head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Me too.
But the words never left my lips.

How do you admit someone has a problem? It was a question that plagued my mind all day at work. Usually, I used work as the device to help me forget everything.

Like Adam was using alcohol.

My jaw clenched as I opened the door to the apartment knowing it would be empty. Adam’s car wasn’t in the lot, so I knew he wasn’t home. But there was still a part of me that hoped something was up, and his car was in for service, or anything really, that meant he was home and not off somewhere getting loaded. I sank into the couch, kicking off my heels, and tipped my head back, putting my chilled hand to my overheated forehead. Then again, it appeared he didn’t have a problem getting drunk here either. Adam had a problem, and I had my own. I couldn’t even begin to grieve over Bobby when I was grieving over the implosion of my entire life. I barely made it through the day at work because my body ached. The part that hurt the most was my chest. It was tight, making it hard to breathe and the air conditioning didn’t seem to be working. I boiled at work, even in my car with the air blasting. I glanced down at my watch, and a shiver ran through my body. Adam hadn’t texted all day, or to indicate that he wouldn’t be home, but I was late– wicked late in fact.  I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe he came home on time and then left because I hadn’t. Maybe his drinking was partly my fault. I rubbed my throat as pain coursed up it, and I went to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

This could be my fault.

I filled a glass and gulped down the contents before leaning against the counter and watching the water dripping from the faucet.

Or this could all be in my head, and Adam was just out practicing with the band. I knew they were getting paid to perform now because Adam left the checks on the entryway table for me to deposit. Maybe all that plus working with the kids every day was just wearing him out. Maybe that’s why he was going to sleep so early every night.

I turned to face the living room. There was one way to find out. If he was going to drink in the bedroom, then there had to be a stash there. My feet propelled me to the room, and my hands formed fists as I glanced around the immaculate room. Where would I even begin to look?

My eyes drifted to my guitar case, and then up to the wall where my guitar was mounted. My fingers tingled, and I was tempted to abort the mission and pick it off the wall to play it. That would be more soothing than finding a bottle or more in that case. My gaze dropped back to the worn leather case leaning against the wall. But there could be nothing in it–then I could play and have peace of mind.

I swallowed hard. Or there could be at least ten bottles of SoCo. I rubbed my sweaty palms against my slacks as I walked up to it and then leaned down to flick the brass buckles open. I closed my eyes as I lifted the lid, opening them slowly to stare at the red velvet fabric. My stomach rolled, and my breath rattled in my chest as I stared at the half empty bottle. It wasn’t ten, but as I fell back on my ass and dropped my head to my knees, I knew one thing for sure.

It was one too many.

I hadn’t realized exactly how accurate it was when I said Adam was a functioning drunk. Every night it was the same thing. He came in the bedroom and drank away the day. I looked up at the dark Boston sky– or maybe he didn’t. One half empty bottle didn’t mean that.

I let my chin drop to my chest as my hands tangled in my hair.

No, but hiding it was a strong indicator it did. And the receipts. And the booze breathe.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Seven, and Adam still wasn’t home.

Where are you?
I texted him before going to the contact list.

“Hey, Ducks, everything okay?” Dad asked.

I was quiet. What was I going to say?

“Ducks?” his voice deepened, and I realized he was probably panicking.

“Sorry, I just need someone to talk to.”

“About?”

“Adam…I think he has a problem.”

“A problem?”

I rubbed my hand over my face. “Yeah, he’s drinking a lot…” I began and then the words rushed out in a uncomprehending stream; “And I found all these receipts and a bottle hidden in a guitar case and he smells like booze almost every morning, and he leaves me alone so much of the time;” the words slowed, and I swallowed as I admitted, “God, I feel so alone.”

Dad was quiet on the other end, and I pulled the phone away from my ear thinking I accidentally hung up. His face was still on the screen with the seconds ticking away above. I put it back to my ear and heard him suck in a deep breath.

“It’s been a rough year,” Dad managed to say.

I leaned over the balcony, staring at the spot where Adam’s car was supposed to be. “What am I supposed to do?”

“When did it start?” Dad asked, and I looked up at the darkening sky, biting my lip.

“Since the day after Bobby died…so almost four months,” I replied, and I fought the burning pain in my throat as I thought about that.

Everything seemed to have happened so long enough.

“Give it some time…maybe try to have a conversation with him about it to let him know you’re concerned–but stay level headed,” Dad said, and I could hear his fingers tapping against something in the background.

I watched as Adam’s car pulled in, and my body was stuck going from hot to cold as I wondered what he was doing that he wasn’t home. Level headed. I didn’t feel level headed anymore, and I wondered from the way he said it if I
e
ver
was about anything besides work. I knew how to talk to people at work, but that was a skill I acquired. Talking to Adam used to be easy.

Used to
.

My life used to be perfect, and I took that for granted. I wondered if this was punishment for that.

“Okay,” I finally replied.

“River?” Adam called from the entryway, and I closed my eyes as my chin dropped back.

“Adam’s home,” I said, my voice quiet.

“I love you, Ducks.”

“Love you too,” I replied as I inhaled and then stepped back through the window. “In here.”

Adam came in the bedroom, loosening his tie and his eyes were tired. I fought the urge to glance at the guitar case that hid his secret. I swallowed as the realization hit that he chose
my
guitar case. Had he wanted me to find it? My whole body rushed with tingles, and I realized I was staring at it, unblinking.

“What were you doing on the balcony?” he asked as he began to unbutton his shirt. “And you’re still in your work clothes.”

My head jerked up, and my eyes met his as I blinked the dryness away. “I could say the same for you?”

Adam slipped his shirt off, his muscles rippling as he balled it and threw it into the laundry bin. “Parent teacher meetings.”

“Ah,” I said, nodding as I bounced on the balls of my bare feet.

“Did I forget to tell you?” he asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at me.

I swallowed, my face turning red as my eyes ran over his abs. I was supposed to be mad at him, but he looked so model-like shirtless in black pin-striped slacks. “I may have forgotten–“

“Or tuned me out,” Adam replied with a wink as he slipped the pants off and grabbed a pair of pajama pants from the dresser. “You going to get into something more comfortable?”

This
was what made things so hard. He acted so normal when he came home. I breathed through my nose as I looked down at my loose gray sweater, long necklace, and black boot cut slacks. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, sitting at the edge of the bed and leaning back on his elbows. “I get to watch just like you watched me.”

My chest rose up to my chin as I narrowed my eyes at him. It was only half a bottle. I shook my head before I began to undress, and then I was suddenly in his arms.

“Another thought,” he said into my ear before letting his lips caress the curve of my neck.

Talk to him.

But my brain wasn’t keeping up with my body, which was currently on fire as his fingers slipped under my shirt. Then my brain was thinking again, but it wasn’t about talking. The shirt slipped over my head, and Adam’s hands moved up my spine as I twisted, so my legs were on either side of him. I could feel the smile on his lips as they moved down to my chest, kisses warm and soft.