Bullet (64 page)

And the next night he was drinking.  For the first time since we’d rushed him to the ER, he was drinking.  And I knew Ethan—I knew that was just the beginning.

I decided I couldn’t just stand back and let him destroy himself—destroy
us
—again.  I had to talk to him before it got bad.  He was sitting at the kitchen table when I came home from work one night.  My voice was scratchy from talking all night, but I was going to push it a little longer.  I needed to get through to him.  I sat at the table and set my purse on the floor.  He looked tired.  His eyes were droopy, and he hadn’t shaved around his goatee in days.  He was even wearing the same clothes today that he had the day before.  I touched his hand that wasn’t holding the glass and said, “Ethan, I know you don’t want to, but we need to talk.  This guilt you’re feeling is—”

“Talk?  The last thing I want to do is talk, Val.”  He took another drink.

“It’s not healthy to keep this shit all bottled up.”

He snarled.  “I suppose walking around the apartment crying all the time is so much healthier.”

I just stared at him and withdrew my hand.  I swallowed.  “I know you’re hurting, Ethan, but you don’t need to be an asshole.”

He just kept looking at me with contempt.  “Stop pretending to know what I feel, Val.  You don’t know.”

That
hurt.  That he couldn’t support my feelings but then just withdrew into a cave and started the old stupid habit of drowning in liquor…that didn’t feel like love to me.  “You know what, Ethan?  I might not know what it was like for you growing up and how you feel…
felt
about your dad, but I know what it’s like to feel guilty.  I know what it’s like to be disappointed and hurt.  And it’s killing me to watch you do this to yourself.”  I stood up and went to our bedroom.

And he stopped drinking
again a few days later when I threatened to leave.

Shortly thereafter, Fully Automatic got a recording contract.

And when their first CD was released to the world, it shot up the charts with a bullet.

And the rest, as they say, is history.  But there’s still more left to my story if you can spare me the time.

Chapter
Thirty-nine

Present

I’
D BEEN FEELING down.  I couldn’t focus on even the most mundane housework…which I’d never been that thrilled about anyway, but it had just seemed harder lately.  What was the purpose?  Sure, I liked having a clean house, and I certainly didn’t want my child getting dirty just walking through the house, but I couldn’t find the motivation to do everything that needed to be done. 

Ethan moped around the house, never showering, never picking up after himself.  He wouldn’t talk to Chris or even look at him.  He hardly ate anymore but when he did, he ate way too much.  Still, he was losing weight.  When he bothered to speak, he’d curse at me or the world.  He was drinking, smoking, and God knows what else.  When he bothered to leave the house, I suspected he was sleeping around on me, and—
unbathed or not, in poor shape or not—he was a rock star.  There would be some girl somewhere happy to fuck him.  I knew that much.  If I even so much as tried to get him to talk to me, he’d just tell me to leave him alone.

And then I noticed he’d stopped wearing his wedding band.

All I could think of for days was how marriage was supposed to last forever…
till death do us part.
  And I knew it was bullshit, but I just couldn’t get up the courage to decide to end it for good.  I wanted my child to have his father, to know him and love him.

But it was a joke.  Even when Ethan was there in body, he wasn’t present in mind.  He was no more a father to Chris than I was.

I’d finally had enough.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  Ethan was still in bed, and it was past two in the afternoon.  I’d just laid Chris down for a nap and so I went into the bedroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed.  “Ethan, wake up.”  No answer.  “Wake up, Ethan.”  I kept my voice low and calm, because that was the kind of discussion I wanted—rational and calm.  “I can make some coffee if you want.”

He stirred but kept his eyes closed.  His voice was thick when he said, “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Ethan, it’s two o’clock.  You should get up.”

“What for?  Just leave me alone, mom.”

God, I hated when he
called me that.  It was a blow off.  But I’d promised myself I’d stay calm.  “We need to talk, Ethan.  Please.  Please just get up for a while.”

“If I have to tell you one more time…”  He fell back asleep.  I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“
What
, Ethan?  You’ll
what
?”

“Just get the fuck out of here. 
I’m tired.  You and that little brat were so goddamned noisy this morning…”

Oh…that did it.  “
Brat?
  You’re calling your son a
brat
?  That precious child who wants nothing more than his father’s love?  Did you know he’s talking now, Ethan?  He says real words, communicates.  But I suppose you think that’s just noise.”  I inhaled, trying to calm down again.

“
Goddammit, Val.  Just get the fuck out of here.”

I took a deep breath.  I had to try a different tactic.  My voice was low.  “Can we talk about your depression, Ethan?”

He muttered into the pillow.  “Who says I’m depressed?”

“What would you call it, Ethan?”

“You’re bothering me.  You’re
always
bothering me.  That’s what my problem is.”

I shouldn’t have let that comment get to me. 
But it did.  Still, I tried to maintain.  “How am I always bothering you?”

“The kid constantly screaming.  You constantly harping on my about shit.  I just want to be left alone.”

To this day, I’m not sure how I managed to keep my cool.  It was as if the angrier I felt, the more I buried it.  “A little solitude is good for a person, Ethan, but you’re taking it to the extreme and you know it.  Fine.  You can treat me like shit.  You always have.  But you need to spend time with your son.”

His voice was almost a growl
, but he still didn’t open his eyes.  “Goddammit.  Just leave me the fuck alone, Val.  How many different ways do I have to tell you I don’t want you around?”

My voice was cool.  “Fine.  I’ll leave.”  I got up and started to walk toward the door.  He understood the tone of finality in my voice, because he bolted out of bed and grabbed me by my upper arm, swinging me around.  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

His fingers were digging into my flesh.  I could tell I was going to have bruises without even looking.  “Let go of me, Ethan.  That hurts.”

“Not until you answer my question.”

“I’m getting away from you.  That’s what you wanted, remember?  How many times did you tell me to just leave you alone?”

He glared, but he let go.  I could see the anger rising inside of him, and I think I preferred it to the lethargic depressive state he’d been in.  At least it was
something
.  I turned to leave, but he grabbed me again.  He pushed me against the wall, his face in mine.  “You still love me, don’t you, Val?”  But it wasn’t a question.  I tried getting away from him, but he grabbed my arm again.  “Val?”

I could feel my nostrils flaring.  I didn’t like how he’d cornered me.  “Let me go, Ethan.  You wanted me to leave you alone, so I am.”

His eyes searched mine.  There was something there that I’d never seen before, something base, something feral, something I would never be able to reason with.  I knew that looking at him.  It scared me.  He pressed his hand against my neck, and at first I thought it was just to scare me more, because he’d seen the look of fear in my eyes.

“Stop it, Ethan.”  Having said it, though, it was as if the real Ethan was whisked away from me.  I couldn’t see him inside his face anymore.  His eyes were clouded, masked, and his fingers started pressing in on me.
  I started pushing against him, slapping at him, trying to get his attention, but it was almost like he wasn’t there…and like he wanted to shut me up by choking me to death.  I beat on his chest with my fists, and then it was like he snapped back.  He took a deep breath and loosened his hand.  He bent over to kiss me, and I shoved him away.

This time, he let me go.  I went into Chris’
s room and pulled the big diaper bag out of the closet.  I made sure there were plenty of diapers and also put a couple pairs of clothes in it for him.  I didn’t want to go back in my bedroom, so I went to the bathroom and put a few things in a makeup bag.  But on the way back to Chris’s room, I decided I’d just walk into my room and quickly grab a couple pairs of jeans and t-shirts.  Ethan was already out of there, though, so I took my time and chose two clean sets of clothes, including underwear.  I put my things in a backpack hanging in my closet.

Last, I grabbed Chris’s car seat and lifted him out of his crib.  I felt bad, but he barely stirred as I lay him in the seat.  I draped his bag and the backpack over my shoulder along with my purse and walked out of the bedroom.  As I walked toward the front door, I saw Ethan sitting in a chair in the living room.  He looked sullen and brooding.  His eyes were cold and frightening.  I half expected him to come after me as I walked toward the door, but he didn’t.

Another part of me thought Ethan might get up, beg me for forgiveness, say he was sorry.  But he didn’t do that either.

It was a warm, bright afternoon, one that would have made me normally enjoy being outside.
  But inside, I felt cold, cut off, distant.

I hurried to my car and strapped Chris in his car seat in the back.  Once I got in, I locked the doors, hoping Ethan would stay in the house.

I drove to a Starbucks, and Chris and I just sat outside for a while.  I watched traffic and just thought about my life.  For some reason, I wasn’t hurting as badly as I would have expected.  Yeah, I was hurt and upset, but not like I would have thought I should.  Maybe I was just finally sick of Ethan’s shit.

Chris started getting fussy—he was hungry and bored, so I went to a restaurant.  I had iced tea and a salad and asked for crackers for Chris.  I wasn’t very hungry, but I was feeling a little better as the day wore on.  By late afternoon, I was content in the idea that life goes on, and as I looked upon my son who was blissfully unaware of what had happened earlier, I realized that beauty and happiness could be found if I only looked for them.

We left the restaurant, and I sat in the car for a few minutes.  We needed a place to stay.  I was tired and hurting, inside and out.  I knew I would always be welcome in my parents’ house, but that was a two- to three-hour drive, and I didn’t want to have to tell them what had happened.  I wanted to talk with someone who cared, and my parents would have been good to talk to, but I also knew my dad would probably want to kill Ethan when he saw the bruises on my arm.

My thoughts went immediately to Brad, the man who’d b
een at one time my best friend…or the closest thing I’d had to one.  We hadn’t had much of a friendship since Ethan and I had married, though, and I think it had been a mutual decision on the part of us both.  To continue our friendship would have been inappropriate and disrespectful.  But, after my parents, he was the first person I thought of.  He was
the
person I wanted to talk to, to see, even if I didn’t tell him exactly what had happened.

But I couldn’t let him see me this way.  I found my foundation in my bag and covered the discoloration on my neck.  I would slip on my jacket before I knocked on his door to hide the nasty purple ones on the inside of my arm.  It wasn’t that I wanted to lie to Brad, but I didn’t want him to look at the bruises and not hear a word I said.

And still…I sat in the car for a while longer, debating if I wanted to see Brad or if I just wanted to go to a hotel.  I looked back at Chris.  I knew Brad hadn’t seen my son in a few months, so I knew he’d like that if nothing else.  Brad had become “Uncle” Brad to our son, and I wanted to encourage that relationship, considering Ethan had no siblings and I only had one.  So I decided I would go, but I could find a hotel afterward if need be.

When I got to Brad’s house, it was
almost dark.  I felt relief when I saw a light on inside and no sign of Ethan’s truck.  It would have been easy enough for Ethan to come cry on his friend’s shoulder, but he wasn’t there.  I remembered too that Brad’s girlfriend Karen was living with him too, had been living with him for about a year.  Karen hadn’t seemed to like me much, but we’d maintained a civil acquaintanceship.  Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

I sat in my car, feeling torn.  Should I ask to be invited inside and take comfort in my friend or leave and cry myself to sleep in a cold, uncaring hotel roo
m?  I really wanted to see Brad but didn’t feel like I should.  I had my child, and he was the most important person in my life.

That was it then.  I would go.  Just as I started to turn the key in the ignition, though, I heard a rap on the passenger window.  I tried to smile.  I really did.  I hoped in the near dark, he wouldn’t be able to tell.  I turned the key so I could roll down the window.  “Val, what the hell are you doing here?”  His voice was friendly.  “Why don’t you come in?”  He saw Chris in the backseat.  “Oh, you brought the little guy.”
  He looked back at me.  “Come on in.”  Before I could say a word, he was opening up the backdoor and unbuckling Chris’s car seat.