She hoisted D.J. up. At three, he was already forty-five pounds. His legs dangled, and his feet nearly came to her knees as he snuggled his head on her shoulder. This boy was going to be bigger than her before he hit middle school, no doubt.
They walked out into the night air. J.J. maneuvered D.J. into the car seat, and he fell back into a deep sleep. That was something. She was envious. She couldn’t imagine falling back asleep now, even in her bed.
D.J. was an angel through it all. He sat in the chair in the waiting room. He walked with her to where they’d release Dean, and instead of asking her to pick him up again as they waited, he wanted to slide down to the floor and catch a few more z’s.
She thought the floor looked gross. So, her pregnant self picked up her gigantic son and rocked side to side as they waited for his gigantic drunken dad to be released.
A big garage-style rolling door opened. J.J. watched as the assortment of men who’d been arrested overnight stood, waiting to get out, waiting to be processed. It wasn’t that different than a pen of steer milling around at the Lenawee County Fair.
Dean walked toward her.
She didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the first screw-up. Or the second. Dean Tucker was the best boyfriend, a loving dad, and a talented, hard-working man, but he was an alcoholic. She knew that, but he didn’t.
J.J. had made a choice when she posted bail. It was a decision solidified as she drove to get her husband.
This was it. This was the last straw. No ultimatum. No big fight. She was going to drop him at home. Drop D.J. at school and then get her stuff. They’d move into her brother’s apartment for a bit until she could find a place.
D.J. woke up and lifted his head from her shoulder. “Daddy!”
Dean made a gesture to take their son and carry him to the car. J.J. turned her shoulder so he could not.Let him see what I’m carrying, she thought.
They got in the car.
“I’m assuming your truck is over at the Wagon Wheel parking lot?”
“Yes.”
She headed to the bar. She hoped it hadn’t been towed. That would be another expense.
They were both quiet. D.J. peppered her with a few questions about getting McDonald’s for breakfast. She agreed.
“After we drop Daddy off.” She wasn’t interested in eating with Dean. Or chatting. Or hearing his side of things.
They pulled into the parking lot of the Wagon Wheel.
“I’m assuming you’re okay to drive?”
“Yeah, worn off now.”
“Great.”
Dean grabbed the handle of the car door. He cracked it open. And then stopped. “I’m never gonna drink again, I promise you.”
J.J. looked at him for the first time.Reallylooked at him.
His hair was a mess, disheveled, and he needed it cut. His beard probably smelled like beer. She didn’t plan to get closer to find out. But when she looked into his eyes, they were bloodshot. They weren’t, however, unfocused.
There was determination in his gaze. And there was honesty, an honesty that had been missing when it came to his drinking. An honesty he’d shrunk from or batted down when she’d tried to show him the truth.
Dean had never made this promise before. He’d never even acknowledged that their problems mostly occurred after he’d had one or a dozen too many.
The honest man, the hard worker that was his daytime self,thatwas who she’d married.
She loved the way he looked. His strength. His humor.
She loved the parts of him that he’d passed down to D.J.
J.J. changed her plans. She kept her hands on the wheel but locked eyes with her husband. And then she made a promise of her own:
