One Wrong Turn: A Novel
Page 18
If I’m going to be the girls’ main caregiver, then I’d better step up. That thought scared him, though. Did it mean he’d given up on Jess if he started filling her shoes? But if Jess didn’t wake up for a long time—or, God forbid, ever—wouldn’t she want him to take over? Decisions were difficult during times like these. He wished he were more sure of himself, like Jess had always been. She’d always believed in him more than he ever had.
Once at the hospital, Clay sat down beside Jess and held her hand.
“What should I do, Jess? I want to believe you’re coming back to us, but it’s getting tougher every day. And life keeps moving forward without you. The girls need to move forward too. They can’t sit here every day and wait. Emotionally, it’s getting hard for them. And I know that you wouldn’t want that. But then, I don’t want to leave you behind, either.”
Entwining his fingers with hers, he thought about the many times they’d held hands over the years. Walks on the beach, in the mall, under the table at a restaurant. It was so natural for them to hold hands, neither gave it a second thought, and sometimes they’d both be surprised to look down and see their hands clasped together. He loved that despite all he’d put her through with his drinking, Jess was still as in love with him as the day they’d married. And he loved her even more as time went on, because she was his everything. His lover, the mother of their children, his best friend. He loved her for still wanting him after everything they’d been through. No other woman would have put up with what Jess had. How could he now make the decision to leave her behind while he and the girls moved forward?
“It’s so hard, baby. So, so hard. You have to wake up. You have to. There is no excuse for you not to. I don’t want to do this all by myself. I can’t do it by myself. Without you, I’m useless. Simply useless. You’re the one who holds everything together. How could I ever do what you do?”
Clay laid his head down on her hand as the tears fell. He wished he could crawl onto the bed and hold her close. If she could just feel his arms around her one more time, maybe Jess would feel his love for her and come back to him. He had to remind her how good they’d been together, how even in the bad times, they were always in love. Always.
All he wanted was to hold her and never let her go again.
2014–2015
In the summer of 2014, Clay went on the road for six weeks with a country band that enjoyed their drinking and their weed. Jess had begged him not to go.
“We don’t need the money,” she’d insisted.
But he’d really wanted to go. The band was moving up the charts fast, and he’d played on their album, so he thought it would be fun to hit the stage with them for a while.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” he told Jess. “I’ve been sober for over a year. I’ve got this. Nothing is going to tempt me to start drinking again.”
Being overconfident was his first mistake.
Clay had a bunk on the band’s bus and spent every day in cramped quarters with six other guys who thought nothing about starting their morning with a shot of whiskey. He wasn’t tempted by the hard liquor or weed. But when someone offered him a beer one night after a concert, his mouth watered. Clay hadn’t been able to attend AA meetings or go running while on the road, and whiling away the hours on a tour bus became monotonous. But he refused the drink that first night and was proud of himself for doing so.
It was two weeks into the tour that his resolve began to fade. He hadn’t realized when he took this job that the band members fought constantly over the smallest of things. When he’d met them at the studio months before, they’d seemed like a close-knit group. But now, he found that their constant bickering and outright hostility set him on edge. Every night after playing, they’d go after each other, and it drove Clay crazy. Tension and stress were his triggers, and he knew it, so he hid in the bathroom and called Coop for help.
“Get off that tour, man,” his friend told him. “It isn’t worth it. Your sobriety is more important than playing with this band.”
“But I have a contract. They could sue me if I leave. I can’t do that to my family,” Clay said, feeling trapped.
“You can’t start drinking. That would be worse for your family. Call your agent, and see what he can do to get you out of it.”
He did call Jeff but was told it was an ironclad contract.
“Just hang in there. Keep your distance from the others, and stay out of their fights. It’s only a few more weeks,” he said.
Clay knew keeping his distance on a bus was going to be impossible. Even if he hid in his bunk, he could hear them argue and fight. His nerves grew rawer with each passing day. He needed a release.
Late one night as they filed onto the bus, the manager handed out booze to everyone, telling then what a great performance they’d had. The bass player complained that the drummer played the tempo too fast, the piano player said that the bass player’s amp was too loud, and the fighting began. Clay couldn’t take it any longer. He grabbed a beer from the cooler and found a corner where he could stare out the window at the passing cars while he drank. One became several, and soon he was passed out in his bunk.
It’s just while I’m with this crazy band, he told himself. I’ve quit before, and I can quit again as soon as I get home. I can handle this.
But when Clay returned home, the relief of being away from the band and with his family again didn’t stop his need to drink. He fought it hard and lost, day after day. He’d tell Jess he had to work at the studio but instead would go to a bar. Then he’d return home long after she went to bed so she wouldn’t see him stumble in.
“You smell like beer,” Jess said a few times. But Clay would brush it off and say it was being with all the guys drinking at the studio.
“I wouldn’t do that to you again,” he’d tell her, hating himself for lying.
When Coop called him to find out why he wasn’t attending AA meetings, Clay lied and said he’d found a group closer to home that he was going to. Coop said he understood. He never questioned his sobriety. That was how much his friend trusted him. And Clay was letting him down.
Every time he drank, an array of emotions plagued Clay. He felt guilty for lying to Jess and angry with himself for not controlling his urge to drink. He also felt embarrassed and ashamed over being, in his mind, a loser. Jess deserved so much better than him. But his shame and anger only fueled his need to drink, making it impossible for him to quit on his own.
In August, Jess’s grandmother became ill and was hospitalized. Jess headed north with the children to be with her, and Clay stayed behind, claiming he had a full calendar of work dates. That was partly true; he was booked for a few dates at the studios. But he also thought he could use the time alone to work on quitting drinking. Yet as each day passed, he always found an excuse to put it off another day. A week later, Jess called him to say that her grandmother had died. She’d had pneumonia and never recovered. It had just been too much for her age and frail body. Clay flew up north to be with Jess as she planned her grandmother’s funeral and closed up the house that had been willed to her. Jess wasn’t sure what to do with it yet and wanted to give herself some time to decide. Clay understood. The house had been in the family for decades.
His drinking slowed because he couldn’t find an excuse to get away and drink. By the time everything was in order and they drove home, he thought he’d kicked the habit altogether. But as soon as they arrived home, he fell back into drinking. It was easier for him to drink than to quit. It called to him so loudly, he felt he had no choice. One night in late September, he was so drunk after a studio session that he called Coop to pick him up and let him sleep it off at his place. He rationalized that Jess would think he was at the studio all night—which happened often—so he didn’t call and tell her where he was. But when he walked into the house the next afternoon with bloodshot eyes and wrinkled clothes, Jess looked at him with sorrow in her eyes.
“You’re drinking again.”
“I know that’s not true. Coop called and told me you were drinking again. You’re not going to AA meetings anymore, and you’ve been lying to me.”
Clay let out a long sigh of relief. It was as if he’d been holding his breath for months, and he could finally let it go.
“I’m sorry, Jess. Yes, I’ve been drinking. But it’s under control, I promise you.”
It scared him how easily he lied.
He took a step toward Jess, but she backed up.
“Stop lying to me. You’ve been drinking, and you don’t have it under control. Why, Clay? Why would you risk everything to drink again? Why would you risk losing your family?” Jess asked, tears filling her eyes.
Fear washed over him, twisting his stomach and making him feel sick.
“Losing my family? What do you mean? I haven’t done anything so bad that I’d lose all of you.”
“You have to quit. Now. Go back to AA meetings, go to rehab, do whatever you need to do to quit. I love you, you know I do, but I won’t live my life constantly worrying about you. And I won’t feel safe leaving you with the girls if I can’t believe you’re sober.”
“You talk like I’m dangerous,” he said angrily. “I didn’t drive home last night. And I’d never do anything to hurt the girls. How can you think that of me?”
Jess sat heavily on the bed, tears streaming down her face. “I’m tired, Clay. I can’t do this anymore. You either have to get sober or leave. That’s it.”
“Fine!” He grabbed a duffel bag from his closet and started throwing clothes into it. “If you want me gone, then I’m gone!”
As he said the words, he looked up and saw Maddie and Jilly standing in the doorway, their eyes wide.
“Dad? Where are you going?” Maddie asked. She looked terrified from hearing her parents fight. Jilly just looked confused.
It was the sight of his girls that tore at Clay’s heart. Jess was right. He couldn’t keep doing this to his family. What was wrong with him that he’d choose drinking over his beautiful girls and a wife who made his life worth living?
Holding back tears, Clay set his bag down and walked over to the girls.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, pulling them into a hug. “I’m sorry if you heard me and Mommy fighting. We’re not going to fight anymore.” He turned toward Jess. “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I need to.”
He held Jess tightly as the tears fell. He loved her more than anything in this world, and he had almost walked out on her. How could he even think about doing that? All he wanted to do was hold Jess and never let her go.
He asked Coop for help, and for a while, it worked. Clay was able to get sober without going to rehab, and he started running again to relieve stress. For several months, he fought his desire to drink, and it was a tough battle. But by the spring of 2015, he lost that battle again. And in doing so, he also lost Jess and the girls.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tuesday morning Clay went to the hospital. He thought that he’d spend a couple of hours with Jess, then go looking for a new car. Alex had suggested a couple of car dealerships that he trusted in the city, so Clay thought he’d start there.
He sat beside the bed, telling Jess about Jilly’s swimming practice the night before and how well he and the girls were doing after their rocky start.
“You’d be proud of me. I’m learning to cook a few of their favorite foods, and I’m making sure the girls eat healthy meals, not just chicken nuggets.” He laughed softly, gazing at her serene face. “We’ve bought fruit and veggies, and I pack their school lunches every day. Imagine, Maddie is actually letting me do that. And the house is almost finished. I conceded I knew nothing about laying tile flooring, so Alex is doing it for me.” He laughed again at this. Maddie had given him a hard time about it, but she was only teasing. “I have a few pieces of furniture left to put together, but that’s it. I can’t believe you did all the other furniture yourself. You’re incredible. But then, we always knew you were so much smarter than me.”
He was quiet then, gently caressing her arm as it lay immobile on the bed.
“I miss you so much, sweetie,” he finally said softly. “I’ve been sober for almost two years, and I plan on staying that way from now on. No more excuses. Losing you and the girls was the worst day of my life. And not coming back to you was unforgivable. I was so afraid I’d disappoint you again, and I couldn’t bear it. But now, I’m afraid I lost my chance to show you how good things could be. Please come back to me. Please. Give me a chance to make it up to you for all the times I broke your heart.”
Clay stood and gave Jess a whisper of a kiss on the lips. “I’ll be back later with the girls. I’m going shopping for a new car for you. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll try to buy one I know you’ll love. Bye, sweetie.”
As he was turning to leave, he noticed Jess’s hand move. Then he saw her body begin to shake all over. Panicked, he ran to the door.
“Nurse! Nurse! Come in here!” he hollered.
A nurse came running, took one look at Jess, and rushed to get a doctor. Within seconds, the room had filled with nurses and the on-call doctor, all working frantically around Jess. A nurse took hold of Clay’s arm and pulled him from the room.
“Please wait here,” she told him before returning to the room.
A few minutes later, Dr. Bradbury hurried past him and into the room. Clay paced the hallway, feeling helpless. He wondered if Jess had had a seizure, or something worse. He was beginning to panic when everyone began filing out of the room.
A nurse walked up to him. “Dr. Bradbury said you may go in now.”
He thanked her and hurried into the room. Jess was lying peacefully on the bed.
“What happened?” Clay asked as he drew closer to the doctor.
“Your wife had another seizure. It was more severe than the last one, but the good news is that she’s still breathing on her own.”
Clay let out a sigh of relief. “Is there any bad news?”
“I’d like to run a brain scan again, just to make sure there isn’t any new damage. Otherwise, all seems to be the same.”
Clay ran his hand through his hair. “Doctor, please be frank with me. Do you see any chance of Jess coming out of this coma?”
“I can’t answer that. I wish I could. There doesn’t seem to be any reason for her to still be comatose. Let’s wait for the new scan to see if anything has changed.”
“And if it has?”
“I can’t tell you anything until then. I’m sorry.” The doctor paused before continuing. “There is something I’d like to discuss with you. It’s time we moved your wife to a long-term care facility. She will receive excellent care, and I’ll still continue on as her physician if you so desire. She needs a place where caring for long-term patients is their expertise.”
Clay stared blankly at the doctor. “You mean, like a nursing home?”
“It’s similar, but most of the patients there have brain injuries or are comatose.”
“So, you’re saying there’s nothing more you can do for her?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Connors, but it is the best option for her now.”
The doctor told Clay that he’d bring him information about a few care facilities and that he’d like to move Jess next week if a space could be secured. Clay barely heard what the doctor said. In his mind, the doctor was giving up. This was a step closer to admitting that Jess might be in a coma for a long time.
He left the hospital in a daze. He no longer had any desire to hunt for a car. He drove through the city, then along the coast. His mind wasn’t on driving, so he stopped and climbed down a steep path to a beach cove. The path was well defined, so he knew that many a surfer had walked down its rocky length.
Clay walked along the shore, thinking about everything that had happened today. Putting Jess in a long-term care facility felt like giving up. Was s
he doomed to lie there for years, withering away and growing old? Would the girls grow up without their mother? And where did that leave him? Could he raise the girls alone, without Jess’s innate intuition for what was right and what was wrong? That scared him to death.
Everything was happening too fast, and he wasn’t prepared to make these types of decisions. Parenting the girls by himself short-term was one thing, but being their only guidance through life was terrifying.
The afternoon shadows grew long, and Clay knew it was almost time for the girls to return home. The girls would expect to go to the hospital and see their mom. As he climbed up the path, he worried how to tell them about what had happened today. And how would they feel when they heard that their mother would be moved to a long-term care facility? What would they think?
He needed more time to sort out how he felt before he talked to his daughters.
Clay called Eileen and asked her if she’d mind watching the girls until he came home.
“Of course. You sound distracted. Is everything okay?”
“It’s been a rough day,” he told her. “I have a lot to think about.”
After he hung up, he drove around aimlessly. He passed first one bar and then another. His hands began to shake, and his mouth grew dry. It was stressful times like this when he wanted a drink more than anything else in the world. One drink to clear his head. One drink to give him the release his tense mind needed so desperately.
Clay had no idea how long he drove in circles, fighting the urge growing inside him. The sun slowly faded in the sky, and he watched as the moon rose. One drink. Just one.