“I just,” I sigh, “I have to meet…. a couple of friends and stop at the store real quick to get something to bring because?—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lana whispers in a tone that’s always scared the shit out of me. “Are you…”
“Lana, wait, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant?—”
A rag gets thrown at my face. “Get out.”
“Lana, please, I mean that I have to go pick up?—”
“Get. Out.” She’s pointing at the door. “Now.”
I run my hands down my face, groaning. How could I have possibly fucked this up? “Lana?—”
“Go,” she says, her soft voice like venom. There is so much stillness and calm in her anger, it’s terrifying.
So I go.
In my car, I realize I don’t have keys to get into the house later. I have the jar in my backseat, and when I get home tonight, I’ll clear this up. But I have to get there tonight first. I need to talk about this with someone because my grip on the steering wheel is too tight and my chest even more so.
I shouldn’t have said I was going tothe store.
“You don’t think I know what ‘the store’ means? I’m not an idiot!”
I sigh and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I know baby, I do.”
“So why lie?” Lana asks in an angry whisper.
“I’m…”
“Tell me the truth, Christian,” she begs. “Because you’re losing me here and I can’t… I’m fighting with a ghost. You don’t come home some weekends and what am I supposed to do with that? When you do come home, it’s five a.m. and youstink!You come home deadand vomit in the toilet or the bathroom floor and fall asleep there. And then I think you’re dead!”
The frown on her face has my name written all over it, and it hurts more than anything. It hurts when her bottom lip starts to tremble and her hands start shaking and her eyes are wet and shiny.
“Tell me what to do, baby,” she croaks. “Please—I’m trying.”
“I know you are,” I breathe and go to her, my hands pulling her into my chest where she buries her face and sobs.
Her hands come around me and her nails dig into my back as she cries, and I can’t help it. I cry too.
“You need help, Christian,” she croaks. “And I can’t make you do it, you need to do it on your own.”
“I know.”I’m just not ready.“Lana, baby, I know. Please.”
She pulls herself back, shoving at my chest.“Youknow?”
“Yes, I do,” I mutter.
“Then put the keys down,” she says, crossing her arms. “Put the damn keys down, Christian!”
I shake my head.
“Christian, you aredrunk!Set the keys down right now, you are not driving while you’re drunk!”
“I’m not drunk,” I growl. I only wish I was.
“Christian, I swear to god…”
My hand fists the keys in my hand but I don’t release them.
