Outside the Lines (39 page)

“But it’s not coping if it’s harmful to him. The doctor said his liver is practically shot from all the alcohol.”

“It’s
his
liver, Eden. His body, his choice, and his life. You asked me what I think, and that’s it. I think you need to back off. Stop shoving your idea of who he should be down his throat. Get to know him for who he actually
is
. You don’t ask our Hope House clients to be anyone other than exactly who they are. You bear witness to their lives and validate their existence without telling them they’re toxic and broken the way the rest of society does. Why can’t you do that for your own father?”

I shook my head. He didn’t understand. “He’s too sick to be able to make rational choices. I think the only thing I can do now is have him committed.” I whispered these words to make sure my father didn’t hear them. “He needs time to get his meds straight. Maybe a year or more. He’s never been institutionalized long enough to get on the right track. They always let him go too early. I’ve been doing some reading online and I could have him put on a twelve-month mental health hold. His history of hospitalization is more than enough to make it happen.”

“That’s a stupid idea, Eden.”

“Stupid?” I fumed. “Are you kidding me? Did you just tell me I’m stupid?”

“No, I said the idea was stupid. You’re fooling yourself if you think locking him up is going to be some kind of magical fix. It’ll make him worse. And on top of that, he’ll hate you for it.”

“I didn’t say it’d be a magical fix. I just think it’s the only way. I can’t quit my job to be with him 24/7 and he needs to be supervised to make sure he does what he’s supposed to.”

“And who made you God to decide what he’s supposed to do?” Jack raked both sets of fingers through his dark hair. “Jesus, you sound like my father.”

I staggered back a step. I knew how much Jack despised his father’s attempts to control his life, but that he would lump me in the same category for only trying to help my father was unfathomable.

“I think you should leave,” I said coldly. “Now.” My chest ached with the thought of never seeing him again. But if he wasn’t supportive of me, what was the point of being with him? He was just like the rest of the men I’d dated. And now I was through.

Jack stared at me without speaking for a minute, pushing breath after breath out of his nose. “Are you sure about that? You’re going to throw away what we have over this?”

“You’re the one throwing it away, Jack. Not me.”

“
You
asked for my opinion.
You
said you could handle it. So I tell you and you lose it.” He shook his head. “You need to grow up, Eden.” He turned around, strode toward the door, and grabbed his coat off the rack. “Give me a call when you do.”

I jumped when the door slammed behind him. Jasper, who was sleeping by the fireplace during our entire exchange, barked at the noise. I slumped into a dining room chair, my forehead pressed against the palms of my hands. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I felt numb. I wanted to take it back. I wanted to run after him and tell him he was right and I was wrong and ask him if he’d ever be able to forgive me. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.

I heard the door to my father’s bedroom open; he crept down the hall. “Where’s Jack?” he asked, standing in the entryway to the living room.

I rolled my head to look at him. “He’s gone,” I said, unable to find the courage to speak the reason why.

I didn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned in my bed, plagued by the image of the disappointment on Jack’s face before he walked out the door. There was no doubt now that I was the reason for all my relationships ending. I’d lost the man who so obviously loved me, who loved me enough to be honest with me when I asked him to be. Was I testing him by pushing him away? I didn’t know. I did know I was wrong, but I didn’t know how to admit it.

Jasper whimpered at my side, his own slumber interrupted by my constant movements. It was early still, four
a.m
., but I heard my father’s door open and his footsteps move into the bathroom. We hadn’t talked much the night before; I was too upset after Jack left. We ate in silence and then both went to our separate rooms. I thought about calling Georgia and telling her what happened with Jack, but the ache in my chest was too big to find words to describe it. Instead, I climbed beneath the covers and held Jasper to me, crying as softly as I could. I cried because my father didn’t love me enough to get well. I cried because I seemed fundamentally incapable of letting a man love me without inevitably pushing him away. I cried because I didn’t know how to fix all that was wrong. I thought finding my father would solve all the problems in my life. But as it turned out I was still left with the biggest problem of all. I was still left with me.

The toilet flushed and I turned on my light and got out of bed. Dad stopped when he saw me stick my head out of my doorway.

“You’re up?” he asked.

I nodded. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He gave me a half smile. “Me either.”

I grabbed a thick sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. “Want some coffee?”

“I think I’ll try to sleep a bit more, if you don’t mind.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Oh. Okay.” Once again, he didn’t do as I expected. Why didn’t he want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him? I shut my bedroom door behind me and leaned up against it, trying to hold back the tears.

I suddenly felt a longing for my mother so deep it sank me to the floor. We’d only spoken briefly since I brought my dad to Seattle. After Jack told her we’d found him, she’d called to make sure I was doing all right. I’d told her I was, but that was four days ago, before the doctor appointment and my father’s anger and Jack walking out the door. I felt as though I was falling apart. Would she be awake this early? Probably not, but I needed to talk to her. Despite how well I knew the emptiness of the words, I needed my mother to tell me everything was going to be okay. I got back up and grabbed my cell phone, using the voice-activated system to dial her home number. I hoped John didn’t answer the phone.

It rang six times before she answered. “Hello?” she said groggily. “John?” She must have thought it was her husband calling from the station. I couldn’t help but be glad he wasn’t lying next to her to hear our conversation.

“Momma, it’s me,” I said, my voice breaking on the words. “I’m sorry I’m calling so early.”

“Eden, honey.” Her words were slow and heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Jack left me,” I said, letting the tears flow. “And Dad’s so angry. I’m screwing everything up, Mom, and I don’t know how to fix it.” I dropped to sit on the floor next to my bed and Jasper settled in next to me. “I thought he’d be so happy to see me he’d do everything he needed to stay well. But he doesn’t care. He hasn’t changed. He’s exactly the way he used to be. He doesn’t love me.”

My mother sighed. “He loves you as best he can, Eden. I know how you feel, baby. I always thought if I just loved him enough, he would want to get well. I thought if I did all the right things, gave him the space he needed to be an artist, then he would take his meds and become the man he was when I met him. But we can’t control what another person does, sweetie. Ultimately what kind of life they lead is their choice.”

“But Dad’s not capable of making those kinds of choices for himself. I think I need to commit him to an institution.” Jasper raised his head and gave a low growl; I patted his belly to calm him.

“And when he gets out of the hospital,” said my mother, “he’ll most likely go back to doing exactly what it is he wants to do.” She was quiet for a minute. I heard her breathing low and slow into the receiver before she spoke again. “Eden, I’ve been down this road with your father a million times. It wasn’t until he tried to kill himself that I figured out it wasn’t my place to try to turn him into a person he just didn’t have the ability to be. It was the most painful realization in my life that he couldn’t be my husband or your father. His illness wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He
couldn’t
. As soon as I was able to accept that, I finally gave up the fight. I let him go.”

“But I don’t
want
to let him go.”

“I meant that I had to let go of who I wanted him to be.”

I sniffled and wiped at my eyes. “That’s what Jack said.”

“And it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, so you attacked him for it?”

I was silent. That’s exactly what I’d done. I released a huge sigh. “I did attack him.”

“Do you love him?”

I nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see me. “Yes,” I said quietly.

“Is this it? Do you think he’s the one?” She could hardly keep the excitement out of her voice. Leave it to my mother to be curious about Jack’s possibility as marriage material when I was in the middle of an emotional crisis.

“I’m pretty sure he is, yes, Mom.” I realized how deeply I meant this and I suddenly felt an urgent need to see him. I didn’t want to wait a minute longer.

Realizing what I had to do, I hung up and sighed. Jasper whined and I realized he’d been awake for almost an hour and hadn’t been outside to pee. “Sorry, monster dog,” I said, and got up to let him out. He trotted down the hall toward the back door, which I suddenly realized was flung wide open, swinging in the wind. The hallway was freezing.

“What the hell?” I said aloud. I glanced down the hall to my father’s bedroom. That door was open, too.

“Shit,” I said. “Oh, shit.” I raced down to his room and looked inside. His backpack wasn’t by the bed. The two drawers I’d filled with jeans and sweatshirts for him were empty; the prescription bottles on the dresser were full. He’d taken his sketch pad and his jacket and just like that—just like all the times before—he was gone.

After sitting in his room a minute, David had gone to tell Eden a cup of coffee was actually a great idea, trying to be cordial after his angry outburst the night before. When he got to her bedroom door, he heard her talking on the phone. She was crying. He knew he shouldn’t, but he pressed his ear up against the door.

“I think I need to commit him” were the only words he needed to hear before he spun back around.

Over my dead body,
he thought.
I’m not going to get locked up like that again.
Who did she think she was, tracking him down like an animal and then trying to trap him in a cage? He loved his daughter, yes, but he would not stand for this. Not again. He refused to let Eden treat him like her mother had. He’d leave before that happened. He’d leave right now.

David tiptoed back down the hall and grabbed whatever clothes he could stuff into his backpack from the dresser. He left the pills, of course. Let her see that and understand for once and all that she could not force him to swallow them. He was done being medicated. Evil rhythms chanted in his head, urging him on, telling him it was the right thing to leave. They even told him to sneak some money from her purse—just enough to buy a bottle and a room to sleep in. He grabbed his sketch pad and his pencils and out the back door he went.

It was a cold, dark December morning. Sharp little pellets of frozen rain struck him as he moved down the street. He didn’t care. He put his head down, tucked his hands into his pockets as deep as they would go. He would find a room, then a liquor store when one opened. That was all he needed to be well and he’d be damned if he’d let anyone tell him anything different.

I pounded on the door to Jack’s apartment, hopeful he hadn’t gone back to the shelter after leaving my house the night before. It was five thirty and I’d spent an hour driving around my immediate neighborhood, looking for my father, without any luck.

My chest had been tight and aching as I drove to Jack’s place, but I knew I needed to see him. I didn’t call, too afraid that he wouldn’t pick up. This was the kind of apology I needed to make in person.

When he didn’t answer right away, I pounded again until I heard his footsteps coming to the door. “All right, all right,” I heard him mutter. “Keep your panties on.”

I smiled despite myself, remembering how Wanda had said those exact same words when Jack and I went to my father’s old apartment building. The door swung open and Jack stood in front of me, a surprised look on his face.

“He’s gone, Jack,” I said. “I know I was a total bitch to you and I didn’t sleep last night at all. And now he’s gone.” My teeth were chattering and I wasn’t making any sense. All the profound, apologetic words I’d planned to say had completely left me.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows and ushered me inside. “Hold on, one thing at a time.” He closed the door and led me into his living room and sat me on the couch next to him. He threw a thick down comforter around me and rubbed my upper arms briskly, trying to help me warm up. “Better?” he asked.

I nodded, my teeth still chattering. I’d driven around with my window down, looking for my father, yelling his name out until my throat felt raw.

“You don’t look better. Let me get you some coffee.” He entered his tiny galley kitchen and poured me a mug. I took it gratefully and let the hot liquid warm me from the inside.

Jack sat back down next to me and pushed my wet hair out of my face. “What happened?”

My bottom lip trembled as I tried to speak. “I was wrong last night, Jack. And you were completely right. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what made me be like that. I was just so wrapped up in the idea of saving my dad. I couldn’t listen to reason. You were right and I was wrong, okay? Please say you still want to be with me. If you don’t, I’ll understand, but right now, I really, really want you to say yes.”

He chuckled and put his hands on both sides of my face. He leaned in and kissed me. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I still want to be with you. I was just pissed. I tend to bluster and run when I get pissed.”