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Message in a Bottle - Nicholas Sparks [126]

By Root 256 0
thought she should have seen it coming. In college, he’d liked to watch the basketball games while drinking with his friends; in dental school, he often wanted to unwind with a two or three beers after his classes had finished for the day. But in those dark months when Bea was sick, two or three beers a night gradually became a six pack; after she died, it became a twelve pack. By the time they reached the second anniversary of Bea’s death, with Annette on the way, it had reached a point where he was drinking to excess even when he had to work the following morning. Lately, it was four or five nights a week, and last night had been no different. He’d staggered into the bedroom after midnight, as drunk as she’d ever seen him, and had begun to snore so loudly she’d had to sleep in the guest room. His drinking, not Tuck, had been the real reason for their argument this morning.

Over the years, she’d witnessed it all, from a simple slurring of his words at dinnertime or at a barbecue, to drunk and passed out on the floor of their bedroom. Yet because he rarely missed a day of work and always paid the bills, he didn’t think he had a problem. Because he didn’t become mean or violent, he thought he didn’t have a problem. Because it was usually only beer, it couldn’t possibly be a problem.

But it was a problem, because he’d gradually become the kind of man she couldn’t have imagined marrying. She couldn’t count the number of times that she’d cried about it. And talked to him about it, exhorting him to think of the kids. Begged him to attend couples’ counseling to find a solution, or raged about his selfishness. She’d given him the cold shoulder for days, forced him to sleep in the guest room for weeks, and had prayed fervently to God. Once a year or so, Frank would take her pleas to heart and stop for a while. But then, after a few weeks, he’d have a beer with dinner. Just one. And it wouldn’t be a problem that night. Or maybe even the next time he had one. But he would have opened the door and the demon would enter and the drinking would spiral out of control again. And then she’d find herself asking herself the same questions she’d asked in the past. Why, when the urge struck, couldn’t he simply walk away? And why did he refuse to accept that it was destroying their marriage?

She didn’t know. What she did know was that it was exhausting. Most of the time, she felt as if she were the only parent who could be trusted to take care of the kids. Jared and Lynn might be old enough to drive, but what would happen if one of them got into some kind of an accident while Frank was drinking? Would he hop in the car, strap Annette into the back seat, and race to the hospital? Or what if someone got sick? It had happened before. Not to the kids, but to her. A few years ago, after eating some spoiled seafood, Amanda had spent hours throwing up in the bathroom. At the time, Jared had his learner’s permit and wasn’t allowed to drive at night, but Frank had been on one of his binges. When she was nearing dehydration, Jared had ended up taking her to the hospital around midnight, while Frank lolled in the backseat and pretended to be more sober than he really was. Despite her near-delirium, she noticed Jared’s eyes flicking constantly to the rearview mirror, disappointment and anger warring in his expression. She sometimes thought that he shed a large part of his innocence that night, a child confronting his parent’s awful shortcomings.

It was a constant, exhausting source of anxiety, and she was tired of worrying what the kids were thinking or feeling when they saw their dad stumbling through the house. Or worrying because Jared and Lynn had stopped inviting friends over. Or worrying that in the future, Jared, Lynn, or Annette might begin emulating their father, escaping regularly into booze, pills, or God knows what else, until they ruined their own lives.

Nor had she found much in the way of help. Even without Al-Anon, she understood that there was nothing she could do to make Frank change, that until he admitted he had a problem and focused

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