Rolling his eyes, Devon amended his choice of words. “A bottle of necessary prescription medication, then.”
“Yes, to help you sleep.”
“Good luck with that.”
“There's nothing you can do right now, anyway. You might as well sleep.”
Devon was shaking his head before his father even finished speaking. “I can’t close my eyes without seeing them. Kathy and Hailey. It’s too painful.”
Don leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Hailey is still alive, Devon. You must believe that.”
“You don't know that!” Devon dropped his spoon in the bowl with a clatter. “There’s no way to know.”
“It’s not what I know. It’s faith that she’s out there somewhere waiting to be found and that she’s okay.” Tears streaked down Don’s face, and Devon started crying, too. “I can’t think of it any other way, son. It wasn't just you that lost Kathy. It’s not just you missing Hailey, worrying about her. It’s not the same, I know. You feel it more keenly; it’s more devastating to you. But they’re my family, too.”
Lydia walked into the house to find her husband and her oldest son hugging. They both had tears on their faces, and she took a deep breath before setting her things down and putting her arms around them both. The only thing she knew to do was pray for the strength to keep her family together.
Chapter Four
Though Devon took theprescription sleeping pills, his mind wouldn't shut down. He tried to breathe slowly and deeply, to focus on the meditation Kathy once taught him before giving up in frustration, but it didn't work. Vague pictures tried to form in his head of a shadowy figure snatching Hailey. His daughter was screaming for him, reaching out in desperation. Forcing his leaden eyelids to open, he sat up, his hands shaking as they scrubbed through his hair. He looked around his old room, the one his parents had made into a guest room. The pale blue walls should hold a sense of comfort and familiarity, but all he felt was cold.
He went downstairs, realizing as he passed the grandfather clock in the hall how late it was. He'd been laying in bed for hours attempting to force himself to sleep. Heading for the fridge, he dug out three bottles of beer and sat at the kitchen table with them. For the longest time, he just stared at them, reading every word on the labels. He knew he shouldn’t mix alcohol with sedatives, but he needed the relief of oblivion. Without it, he was turning into a zombie. Hailey's face stayed right there in his vision, blocking everything else until he crumpled under the impenetrable waves. He was drowning again, only now he welcomed it. He wanted to see nothing, to hear nothing, tofeelnothing but numbness.
Twisting off the first cap, he swallowed half the bottle. The spinning in his head forced his eyes closed until he didn't feel like he would vomit. Tipping the bottle back again, he drained it in two long gulps. He set that one down and went for the second, drinking it as quickly as he was capable. His stomach churned violently, but the liquid stayed down. He stared blankly out the back windows, not seeing the white curtains tied back on either side. He didn't notice the moon glowing in the distance or the fact he was sitting in complete darkness. He didn't feel his headache or his sorrow quite so intensely anymore, so he opened the third beer. When that bottle sat empty beside the others, he blinked several times, but Hailey was still there. Her face hovered just behind his vision, taunting him with what he was trying so desperately to forget.
Stumbling as he stood up, he knocked over the kitchen chair. Typically, his father had stronger liquor in the house which he decided to search out. His footfalls were loud in his ears and he tried to shush them, but it didn't work. He leaned against the wall for support, sliding his shoulder along it as he walked to Don's home office. Most of his father's work was done from home, though he had to show his face at the newspaper once a week. Devon bumped into the desk as he passed it, sending a picture frame toppling. Hailey's crying intensified in his ears, and he held his palms tightly over them to block it out.
When Don rushed into his office, he found Devon on the floor in front of the bookshelf, holding a bottle of tequila and screaming. "Devon!"
Don rushed forward, kneeling next to him and trying to take the bottle from his hands to calm him down. The noise of the falling chair had woken him, and though he was sure it was Devon, he'd been cautious on his way down the stairs to check. He'd been standing in the kitchen after righting the chair when the screaming started.
"Make it stop! Make it stop!"
"Devon, for God's sake!"
He sat there helplessly as Devon screamed incoherently. He wouldn't let the bottle go and even took another drink while Don watched. Devon kept his eyes closed, tears streaming down his face and staining his gray t-shirt. Not knowing what else to do, Don wrapped his arms around his child the best he could. He broke down at the sight of Devon falling apart until his sobs shook them both.
