Someone Always Loved You

by Brooke Williams

  Madison appeared unscathed, but her utter terror had caused every organ in her body to shudder in fear. When she tried to stand, her knees were shaking so badly she thought she would surely start an earthquake within the store.

  The drunk man in the mask would never be found. And Madison would never be the same.

  * * * *

  Madison didn’t think she could take feeling like that again, especially if it were caused by someone she loved as much as Jay. No, she would be no good to him in that state. The best she could do was leave and not look back, praying that he would see the light, turn away from this incident, and come after her.

  But Jay didn’t come after Madison. Whatever it was that drove him to drunkenness that night was only compounded by her disappearance. While she stayed at a relative’s house in a neighborhood nearby, believing Jay would know where to find her, he sulked and fell deeper into the ocean of drinking, believing she was gone forever.

  In his few sober moments, Jay couldn’t believe what he was doing to himself. Thoughts of Madison and how happy they had been would stream across his mind, but then he would think of his father and all of the pain that he had caused. “Like father, like son, right Pop?” he would say to the empty room that smelled more putrid with each passing day. “I always said I wanted to grow up and be just like my daddy,” he lectured. “I just wish I had known what my daddy would turn into before I said that.”

  Jay had very few lucid moments. Most of the time he didn’t even realize what he was doing to himself. He just had to numb the pain. He had no idea where Madison had gone, and without her, he didn’t want to be conscious. Mostly, he didn’t know where she was because he was never far from a bottle of booze. Had he allowed his mind to clear for even an hour, he would have easily been able to search her out. But he didn’t want to see her anyway, not in this state. He knew what that would do to her. He understood why she left, but that didn’t rid him of the pain. Only the escape from reality through drunkenness seemed to do that.

  And so Jay drank. He made it in to the office on occasion, but he was sent home so often for breaking equipment, falling down and hurting himself, or just plain not being capable of work that eventually he quit going in at all. He kept to his apartment, venturing out only when he ran out of his new favorite beverage. He was no longer discriminating, however, because he couldn’t really taste anything anymore. As long as it contained alcohol, he’d buy it. He probably would have bought mouthwash by the gallons had that been all the stores had to offer.

  Moving from one liquor store to another, gas station after gas station, Jay tried to vary his buying patterns to disguise his mounting disease. He wasn’t successful at hiding anything because each cashier could tell he wasn’t right…the blood shot eyes, the sagging pants, the wrinkled shirt and unshaven face…they all knew. They had seen the symptoms many times before in other customers. Even Jay knew on occasion. He just couldn’t stop, and he didn’t care enough about himself to try.

  Madison suffered from worry. She had left her heart in that apartment with Jay. She expected it to follow and mend itself, but there was only silence. She had lived weeks with two pair of jeans and four shirts. Using the needed clothing as an excuse to check on Jay, she begged a friend from work to accompany her to their apartment.

  Jay had had a particularly bad day. He had drunk his way through his entire supply of alcohol, and he had been unable to rise from the couch to replenish his supply. His last thoughts were quite entertaining, almost like dreams, as he seemed to be flying around the apartment. And then he crashed.

  Madison appreciated that her co-worker was willing to wait in the car. The apartment was only one flight up; her friend could sit and stare at the apartment window the whole time watching for Madison to signal if she needed help. Climbing the well-worn stairs, she avoided all of the familiar squeaks so Jay wouldn’t be alerted to her presence.

  Slipping her long unused key into the lock, she waited for the telltale click, but even jiggling the key produced no response. She turned the knob and found the door unlocked. The hinges squeaked as the smell hit her face like a freight train. Her hands turned icy, and her face went hot. Madison knew she had to quickly grab a few things and get out before her knees began to quake. Rushing past the couch, she flew into their bedroom, grabbing miscellaneous goods without really paying attention to whether they were hers or Jay’s.

  The empty bottles at the side of the bed caught her eye. There were dozens. Some broken, others upright, the remainder sprawled on the floor, empty and forgotten. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she sensed Jay’s presence.

  Dropping the pile of clothes, she swiveled to face the bedroom doorway through which she could see the dirty gray couch. Jay’s neck was bent so his chin lay upon his chest. One arm hung from the couch, straight out into the room; the other rested on his leg. His shirt was pulled halfway up his torso as if he had tried to take it off, and his rat’s nest of curls obviously hadn’t been touched in weeks.

  Madison stood transfixed as her knees began quivering. Jay slept like a feather; a chirping bird in the next city could wake him. She had been quiet coming into the apartment, but after thinking it was empty, she went wild in the bedroom, gathering and throwing items fiercely. Yet there he lay, unmoving and undisturbed.

  Forgetting her fear from the smell, she raced to his side, dropping to her knees to lean over him. “Jay,” she tested, reaching out to touch his face.

  “Jay?” she said louder. “JAY!” she admonished, this time shouting. Taking his face between her hands, she shook his head back and forth with no response.

  Madison stumbled over the scattered bottled and tripped to the nearest window facing the street. She tore down the curtains in her rush to free them from the window. Her friend spied her immediately from her post in the car as Madison shrieked, “Get an ambulance!” Her friend could tell from the frantic cry that this was no joke and began searching her purse for a cell phone.

  Inside, Madison covered her nose with her shirt as she rushed back to Jay’s side.

  “Jay,” she continued trying to rouse him. She only then realized that the familiar rise and fall of his chest was not occurring. Had he been breathing when she first got there? What about when she initially tried to wake him? She didn’t know.

  Helpless, the tears began to roll down her face as she rocked back and forth and tried to talk him through the minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive. The hospital was just down the street so it wasn’t long, but to Madison it felt like an eternity until the EMTs rushed into the room with heavy looking bags and professional expressions on their faces.

  “Excuse me, ma’am” said the taller man in blue uniform. Pushing Madison back, he bent over Jay and started rattling medical terms to his partner. She had never seen anyone work at such speed as they hooked Jay up to a few things and lifted him onto a stretcher before she could blink. As the medics rushed down the stairs as fast as they had come up, Madison realized that her body was quivering and her heart had begun racing. She attributed it to the concern she felt for Jay, but she knew the smell of the alcohol permeating the room also played a major role.

  The ride behind the ambulance to the hospital seemed like a cross country trek as she could only occasionally see the EMT’s heads through the vehicle’s back window. She strained to see Jay or a look on one of their faces to get an idea of what was going on, but her attempts were in vain.

  Madison paced in the waiting room and was only told that they were about to pump Jay’s stomach. What seemed like days passed before a doctor came in to speak with her.

  “Mrs. Bartlett?” he called.

  Madison rose from the plastic chair that she had finally settled in to keep the room from spinning amidst her worry.

  “Your husband had a rather severe case of alcohol poisoning. I understand you found him?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “You have very good timing, Ma’am. A few minutes longer and he would have gone too lon
g without air. I don’t think he would have pulled through. You’re very fortunate. We successfully pumped his stomach, and he’s going to live. We will want to keep him for a few days to monitor any damage that he may have done to his liver. That could cause considerable complications, but we’ll deal with that if it arises. Has your husband been drinking long?”

  Jordan shook her head again. “No…” she started, “no, not long, but I think it’s been pretty heavy.”

  The doctor inclined his head knowingly, “If it’s okay, Mrs. Bartlett, I’m going to send a nurse in with some information. You may want to consider some of the treatment centers in the area for your husband.” Not waiting for a response, the doctor abruptly turned away and rushed down the hall to deliver news to other worried waiters.

  Jay entered the rehabilitation center two days later, the image of his visit with Madison on his mind. She had been in the room when he first woke up from the reckless binge. She hadn’t notice his stirring, and he got a chance to study her distraught face. At that time, he didn’t know what was going on, but he knew he wanted to take her in his arms and make all of her worries disappear.

  Jay blinked, trying to clear his vision and focus on the ceiling, wondering where he was and what was going on. The monitors whirred and beeped as he turned his head toward the noise. Madison finally heard the rustling he made against the stiff pillow and tore her eyes from the bleak view the window provided.

  He looked so pitiful. His skin was almost a yellow color, and she couldn’t believe how much weight he had lost in such a short time. But she recognized the man he had been in his deep blue eyes, and she took solace in the familiarity of his dark curls. Jay reached out a hand to her and Madison went to him, laying her cheek next to his.

  “Jay,” she said sternly and with emotion, “I love you with all of my heart, and I always will no matter what you do to yourself. But,” her voice quivered, and she paused to gain control, “I will not stand by and watch you destroy the man that so many love. That man will always live in my heart no matter what you decide to become.”

  Leaning back and looking him right in the eyes, Madison allowed the tears to flow freely down her face and drip onto the stark white sheets. Jay recognized the small hospital room for what it was, and though he didn’t remember much of the last week, he was sharp enough in his daze to realize what had put him there. “I’m going to let you go, Jay,” she said, “but only with the sincere hope that you will come back to me. You’re all I ever wanted. You’re my ideal. You’re my one and only true love.” Pulling her hand from his, she dug through her coat to find and unfold the pamphlets for the treatment center which she laid on his chest. She placed her hand over them and lowered her head to the center of his chest so she could hear his heart beating.

  Jay stroked her short blonde hair, familiarizing his fingers once again with each strand. “Good-bye for now,” she whispered, arranging her fingers over the pamphlets. “I hope,” Madison added.

  It took everything she had to stand and turn away from Jay as he lay more helpless than he had ever been. He caught her hand before she got out of reach and squeezed it until he thought he might hurt her. Then he let her go.

  Leaving the room before she changed her mind, Madison closed the door behind her and put her back to it, leaning against its hard steadiness and clamping her eyes shut. Her hands balled into fists by her side as she launched her feet into action, each step heavier than the next.

  Jay didn’t know if he could really be considered an alcoholic after such a short period of time, but he knew he had the potential and that was enough for him. He treated the rehabilitation center with the utmost respect. He was a model patient. He did everything they asked and even went above and beyond by attending extra sessions and volunteering for the chores that no one else wanted. Madison, and the way she had said, “Good-bye for now, I hope,” drove him to become a better person. He wanted to erase that whole sentence from her vocabulary; it would never be necessary for her to speak those words again.

  Jay put in the work, the time, and every available ounce of effort. As he left the treatment center weeks later, there was a renewed bounce in his step. He had made a vow that he would never let another drop of alcohol touch his lips. This promise was one that he made not only for the sake of Madison, but for himself and in memory of his childhood father. He remembered wanting to be just like the father he had when he was a child, and he remembered watching the slow erosion of that man throughout his adolescence. He had the power to turn back the clock and become the man he wished his father had remained, and that was exactly what Jay planned to do.

  Jay worked through the twelve step program with a determination and diligence the staff at the center had rarely seen. His hand was often the first raised during the group therapy sessions, and he always thoughtfully contributed to active discussions. Throughout the program, Jay was still unsure that he was a true “alcoholic,” but he did know that he had a problem, and that was close enough. What would happen the next time something unexpected happened in his life? Jay asked himself whenever he became discouraged with the program. Then he would remind himself of the look on Madison’s face as she left his hospital room.

  Jay had more good days than bad. He had a goal in his reach and he knew all he needed to do was go through the motions and let the skills and lessons of the program sink deeply into his mind. He encouraged himself daily with the dream of being back with Madison where he belonged.

  There came a time in the process when Jay realized he needed to deal with the why. Why had he turned to alcohol so quickly when he felt his world crumbling around him? Why hadn’t he turned to his wife or his friends? The questions plagued Jay into the early morning hours until the staff began to worry about his haggard appearance and zombie-like stares.

  “Everyone has noticed a big change in you, Jay,” the group counselor stated worriedly when he pulled Jay aside after a particularly lengthy session in which Jay again did not speak a word. “What’s going on? Are you sliding backwards?”

  Jay didn’t know if he wanted to discuss the matter with anyone, but as he looked into the caring man’s eyes, he knew he needed help if he was ever going to work through the issue. “I want to know why,” he finally said after a long pause.

  “Why?” the counselor asked.

  Jay nodded. “Why alcohol? Why me? Why did I turn to the bottle so easily after watching it destroy my family?” The room emptied and the counselor led Jay to a stiff wooden chair situated at the side of the room.

  “That’s a valid question, Jay, one a lot of us have spent plenty of time contemplating,” the counselor reassured in his calm, soothing tone. “I’m afraid there’s no easy answer.”

  The men spent twenty minutes discussing Jay’s background to try to get to the bottom of his recent angst. “Here’s what I see,” the counselor concluded. “You were looking for a way…any way to feel close to your father. As misguided as that sounds, I really think you subconsciously turned to alcohol because you knew it was the only thing he seemed to care about.”

  Jay nodded. The counselor had seen and heard so many alcoholics’ stories he was usually right on target. Jay felt that he knew what he was talking about this time as well. Now, Jay thought, all I need to do is strive to be the man I always wanted my father to be.

  Madison had spent the solitary weeks re-forming her own life. She cleaned their apartment and moved from substitute teaching into a full-time position. She was now the art teacher at Skyview Elementary, and her students were her reason for rising in the morning. She loved seeing their crooked rainbows and off-the-wall designs, and their apartment walls were now filled with her favorite projects. Ranging from a page filled with smiley faces to a dark ocean scene, all of the creations had come from the minds of kids ages six to twelve.

  She had not visited Jay during his stint at rehab. She had meant what she said. If he wasn’t the man she married, she didn’t want him. But she thought of him constantly, hoping the
man who lived in her heart would come back to her.

  The afternoon was rainy and gloomy with big fat drops landing on the window as Madison dragged a chair over to the wall. She’d just collected the latest batch of artwork from her students, and on a day like this, she had to hang the picture of the sunrise done by eight-year-old Amy above the window. It would brighten the room and her mood. Reaching above the window, she took the nail from between her lips and aimed the hammer, knowing it would be crooked, but not caring. As she brought the hammer back for the first pound, she heard the squeak of the door. Madison dropped her hands to her sides and slowly turned.

  Madison looked so adorable standing on the chair. Her short hair was wet and windblown, and her jeans had splotches of paint sprayed on them. Her white button down shirt was half untucked as she clutched the picture of the sun to her stomach. Jay moved across the room in two fluid steps and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stood motionless for only a moment before placing her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. She bent over and buried her face in his hair, inhaling the familiar scent and enjoying the feel of soft his curls against her cheek.

  Neither had to say a word as he placed his hand beneath her knees and gently picked her up. Their eyes said it all. They knew this was a new beginning. They understood the man living in Madison’s heart was now carrying her in his arms.

  CHAPTER 9

  The warmth receded, but the comfortable glow remained as Jordan picked up the steady beep in the room. It was soft but irritating. She wanted to turn her head and open her eyes to find the origin of the noise, but everything felt so heavy. The beeping continued at a steady pace as other sounds were added: the click and whoosh of an opening door; the incessant chatter of a familiar female voice getting louder and then quickly fading; and then just the beep again. Jordan’s interior temperature began to steadily drop as the light dimmed completely and disappeared.