Prove Me Right

by Anna Brooks

  I told my mom what happened this morning, and she made me feel even shittier, blaming herself for staying with my alcoholic, drug addict father as long as she did. I tried to explain everything to her, but she didn’t understand. Nobody understands what it’s like. I already contacted a sponsor, and he’s meeting me in Oklahoma at our next show. I know I have a problem, and I hate that I have to admit it. I hate that it makes me weak. I hate that it took my world away from me.

  When I was growing up, I was close to my mom. We’d talk about everything. And when I got to that age where she embarrassed me wherever we went, I secretly loved the fact that she was always there. To know that she had my back all the time is a devotion only a mother has.

  As ashamed and pissed as I am for my behavior, having my mother be disappointed in me is a new low.

  After a silent drive to the airport, Mom dropped me off and I promised to keep in touch and do my best to better myself.

  I check in at the vestibule and begin walking to my terminal.

  “Lee.”

  I’d recognize that sound anywhere. No matter how many people are around me and how loud it is, her voice is the best sound in the world.

  I turn on my heels and walk out of the short security line at the airport. “Hi.”

  She’s wearing a pair of oversized sunglasses and I reach up to take them off. I need to see her eyes. When I remove them, I suck in a breath. She looks so empty again. And it’s my fucking fault. I failed as a man and I despise myself for that. Being in a relationship means being a better person because of them, but I’m making her worse. I’m forcing myself to believe she’ll give me another chance. Without that hope, I don’t see much point in anything.

  “Why are you here?” She knows how I feel about her coming to the airport. We never say good-bye here. It’s too final … too symbolic.

  Without words, she leans forward, wraps her arms around my waist, and buries her head in my chest. I hold her as tight as I can, breathing in her scent, memorizing all that I can, wishing for so much, but knowing deep down none of it will come true. I can’t change the past, I can only hope for a miracle in the future.

  She sniffles and pulls back then kisses my cheek. I’m focused on her eyes, so when I hear a snap, I look down to her ripping her star necklace off and shoving it into my pocket. “Good-bye, Liam.”

  Meara

  I turn my back to him to walk away, but he grips my arm and spins me.

  “Don’t do this, Meara. I’ll fix it, baby. I promise I can fix this.” He’s begging me, desperate.

  “No,” I whisper. “This isn’t something you can just put a Band-Aid on. There’s too much at stake this time.” I pull my sunglasses back on and shake my head as I take a step backward.

  “I won’t stop trying. No matter how long it takes, princess. I fucking promise you I won’t ever give up. And you can count on me coming back. I’m not letting you forget about me.”

  Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I turn and walk as casually as I can to my car where I parked in short-term parking. Once inside, I allow myself one final cry. My heart is begging my brain to forgive him and move on. Every time I try, each and every time I see a tiny crack of forgiveness, the vision of him in that hotel room convulsing on the floor flashes in front of my eyes.

  I don’t remember the drive home. My entire body is numb, my mind frozen. Once inside my apartment, I sit on my couch and stare at the TV. I leave the power off and tilt my head at my reflection. My hair is greasy from lack of washing. I had no makeup on my face and removed all my piercings. Is this really what I’ve become?

  I’ve been forcing myself to eat and I bought prenatal vitamins from the pharmacy the other day. I have an appointment tomorrow morning before the bar opens. I finally get to see my baby. I wonder what time it happened. If it was when I first saw him and all our clothes weren’t even off, or if it was when we were in the shower?

  Sighing, I lie down and close my eyes. Nothing would make me happier than to wake up and have this all be a dream. But it’s not a dream, and I’ll have that scar permanently etched in the corner of my heart.

  My eyes become heavy and I allow my lids to fall, wanting to sleep. The more I sleep, the less time I have to be awake to face reality.

  * * *

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Kelly. Would you like me to call somebody for you?”

  I stare at the doctor through tear-filled eyes. “I was pregnant, though, wasn’t I? The home tests I took said I was, and the doctor at the ER said the baby was fine.”

  “Yes, you were. And, unfortunately, sometimes these things happen without cause. I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I know words won’t help, but please know you have my support. Would you like to get dressed so I can explain your options to you? I’d be more than happy to make a phone call to someone on your behalf.”

  “No. Don’t call anyone. I’ll get dressed.”

  “Okay. When you’re done, please stick your head outside and I’ll walk with you to my office.” Dr. Brand squeezes my shoulder reassuringly and, like everything else this past week, I get dressed in a fog. I walk to her office in a fog, and I listen to my options in a fog. I decide to have the procedure done in the office instead of waiting to miscarry at home, and I drive home behind blurry eyes. There is so much uncertainty in my life right now. So much falling apart and I can’t even make sense of any of it. Especially this. What just happened? How did this happen? This baby was the only thing holding me together. But now … now I’ve never felt more alone in my life.

  My mind literally doesn’t process what it just heard, so I get home and call in sick to work. Nik checks on me later, but I lie and say it’s the flu. I’ve been lying in bed all day and night staring at a blank ceiling.

  I haven’t checked my phone all day and a voicemail flashes across the screen so I push in my code and put the phone to my ear.

  “Hey, princess. It’s twelve oh one a.m. right now. Officially my first day away from you. I’ve decided that I’m not letting you walk away from me that easily. I refuse to lie down and roll over, Meara. Maybe I’ve done a shitty job in the past of telling you how much I love you, but I promise not a day will go by while I’m away from you that I don’t remind you why you fell in love with me.” A breath passes through the receiver before he begins again. “I know I fucked up. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. You’re not anyone’s bitch, least of all mine. But maybe, just maybe, when I come back in a few months, you’ll realize how fucking sorry I am that I hurt you and how badly I want you in my life. How much I love you. That no words can describe what we have … what we’ve always had.”

  Day two: “Hey. I just got off the bus in St. Louis. The show went well last night. I admit I had to concentrate harder without the alcohol, which sounds completely fucked. The guys all went to see the Arch, but I stayed here. I have a couple of songs I’m working on and need the quiet. I hope you had a good day yesterday. Remember Bart, my old sponsor? He’s here now too, staying with me on the bus and helping me work through this. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but until you change your number, I’ll be calling you every day. I fucking love you, Meara. You don’t even know how much.”

  * * *

  Charlotte listens to the messages with me on speaker and bites her lip. She’s been so helpful, driving me to the appointment this morning and staying with me since to make sure I’m okay. “Maybe you should tell him?”

  “Why would I do that? It’ll only fuck with his head even more, and if he’s genuinely trying to get sober, I don’t want to ruin that for him.”

  “Maybe though, if he knew what happened, then he’d have even more of a reason to fight.”

  She passes back the bag of saltines and I grab another one and munch on the corner. “It could also have the opposite effect and make it worse. I’d rather risk him getting mad after the fact than ruining his progress, even if it’s only been a short time of sobriety.”

  “What about you?”

&
nbsp; “What about me?”

  “Wouldn’t you rather go through this with him?”

  “Of course, I would, but like I said, it’s better for him.”

  “Why are you doing this, Meara?”

  Her tone is sharp, and I squint my eyes at her. “Doing what?”

  “Lying about this whole thing? For one, you know when your family finds out they’re gonna be infuriated. But secondly, I can see it in your eyes … you don’t want it to be over with him. And you can say it all you want, but your eyes tell me you want him here going through this with you.”

  I’ve had nothing but time to think lately, and in that time, I’ve done nothing but realize how much my life sucks without him in it. “Duh. Obviously, this isn’t what I want, but I can’t back down now. He has to know how serious I am or at least think I am. Look.” I shift on the couch. “I love him too damn much to lose him. We’ve been through way too much, and for him to die on me because of an OD … it’s not going to happen. He needs to sober up and get better.”

  “So you’re what, stringing him along?”

  “No, I’m doing the only thing I can think of to help him. What I think is the right thing for him. I just hope he believes in us enough to not give up, as he said.”

  We finish watching the movie in silence and when she asks for the billionth time if I’m really okay, I lie and tell her yes. She lets herself out, and once I’m alone, I put my hand on my stomach, still in denial that as of ten hours ago when I walked out of the hospital with Char supporting my weight, I am no longer a mother.

  Chapter 14

  Meara

  DAY FIVE: “YOU WOULD hate it here, princess. Texas is so humid. And holy shit. I saw this bug … I don’t even know what it was. But you would have refused to even get off the bus if you saw it. I’m not sure I’d be able to make it if we were playing outside tonight. Sorry, I can’t talk longer, but we have an interview in a half hour and I still need to change. Love you.”

  Day seven: “It’s been a week. I wonder if you stare at the stars like we used to and know that I’m looking at them, too. It always made the world seem so small, knowing we were looking at the same thing. I do love you, Meara.”

  Day thirteen: “So. I know how much you probably hate me. And I don’t blame you. But the past couple of weeks, only talking to your voicemail and not being able to hear your voice, your laugh, have been just awful. Just know how much I miss you and that I love you with everything that I am … even though I’m not much right now. I swear to you I’m trying to be better. I haven’t touched anything in almost two weeks. I don’t even miss it. All I miss is you.”

  Day fourteen: “I never told you about my dad. The truth. The disgusting details of his drug infested life. You didn’t need to see it, to see what I could become. But here it is, here’s the truth. My dad is a fucking addict. Lifelong and he isn’t going to change. I’ve done things with him that I’m not proud of doing. I was so afraid that you wouldn’t want to be with me if I confessed the truth about him. I realize it’s not rational because if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t judge you based on your parents. That’s why you hardly ever met him. Why I kept you away. It doesn’t change what I did, I’m not trying to use him as an excuse for my behavior, but I just wanted you to know. I’m going to be better than he is—for you and for me—because I refuse to live like him. I don’t want to lose my family, and you, Meara, are the most important family I have.”

  Day seventeen: “… You never yelled at me for ruining your plans. I don’t deserve sympathy, and I’m not asking for it, but I just wanted you to … fuck, I don’t even know—”

  Day eighteen: “I’m sorry I was so short yesterday, but it’s frustrating because I need you to fight back. This isn’t you. You’re not the silent type, Meara. You always let me have it, you always lay into me, and I need that. I know it’s not about me, but I’m fucking trying. I had a long talk with my dad last night. It’s embarrassing how alike we are. I guess I never realized how bad I really was … I hate myself right now. You have no idea how badly I wish I could be with you, begging for your forgiveness in person, proving to you that I’m clean.”

  * * *

  Lisa knocks on my office door and hesitantly steps inside.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  “Wanna sit?” I point at the chair across from my desk.

  “Sure.”

  I’m convinced that Lisa has been a freaking angel sent from heaven. She picks up extra shifts and doesn’t ever complain. I’ve gotten nothing but compliments from the regulars about her, and the guys think she’s a perfect fit.

  “I know it’s not my business, but can I say something?”

  “Yeah, of course.” I push back in my chair and rest my elbows on the desk.

  “When my husband died, I wished and wished that he would come back. I prayed and dreamed and cried. I would have done anything, absolutely anything to bring him back.”

  “God, I can’t even imagine.”

  “But then, when I realized he wasn’t, I became destructive because I thought, hey … what do I care anymore? I dabbled in drugs and drank more than my fair share … and the only thing that made me feel a little semblance of myself was when I slept with someone. Now, I’ve cleaned up. I’m good now, but …”

  Her story intrigues me, and I find myself leaning forward even more.

  “Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is I’ve been on both ends. I’ve been the one with loss and the one with the problem. It’s easy to get addicted to something, Meara. You wouldn’t think so, and it’s easy to judge, but just know that it can happen to the best of us. Also, I want you to know that once you really lose someone you love, there is nothing that makes it better. Time, maybe.” She laughs. “But even now, I still have my moments. I’ll swear I see him walk through the door sometimes. We had plans, big ones. And now, all I have is me and maybe some memories thrown in there, but one thing I’ll never have back is him.”

  * * *

  Day twenty: “Love you, princess.”

  Day twenty-five: “My mom told me you still sent her flowers for her birthday today. That was really nice of you. It made her happy. She’s not very happy with me, though. She’s been harping on me to make it right with you. I told her I’m trying … that I’d give anything to make it better, but I’m not sure anything I do will ever be enough to show you how sorry I am. Since I’ve left, I haven’t had a drop. I didn’t want to until last night when I realized it’s been over three weeks since you’ve talked to me. I wanted it to pull me into oblivion where all this fucking pain goes away. When I close my eyes, the darkness surrounds me. The pressure of pleasing everyone releases. Yeah, that sounds fucking amazing right about now … but I’m stronger than that. You make me want to be better than my dad was, better than a fucking bottle or a rock. So, for you, I’m not doing it. ”

  Day thirty: “One month. Thirty fucking days since I’ve last talked to you. I wish I knew what you were doing. How you are. It’s getting cold there about now, I bet. Have you gone for a hike yet to see the leaves change color? We’re in Florida now, so it’s still hot here. I’d rather be back with you, though. We could pack a lunch and go on our favorite path. If we had a dog, he could come, too. I haven’t had anything in a month, princess. Man … that sounds so lame. And stereotypical. A drummer who’s an addict. But it’s the truth. And I’m working on fixing it. I’m keeping good on my promise to you.”

  Day thirty-seven: “I miss you.”

  * * *

  “Forgot one!” Nik elbows me as he walks by, and I allow his joke to be the final straw for the day. I grab the dirty glass he jokingly pointed at and throw it across the bar, then go for another, but he halts my movements and grabs my arms, holding them at my side.

  “Let me go!”

  “Chill. Damn, Meara.”

  “Let me fucking go!” I screech.

  “I’ll let you go if you promise not to throw anything else.”

  Afte
r a minute, I steady my breathing as my heart rate slows and nod. He releases my arms, and I slide to the floor. Thankfully, we’re already closed and there are no customers here. With bent knees, I rest my elbows on my thighs and hang my head.

  I blurt everything out to Nik, but there are no tears. I don’t think I’m physically capable of producing them anymore. Crying is all I do when I’m alone. He sits next to me and listens, but every once in a while, he’ll look away or make a grunt. I haven’t said anything to Jamie because I’m not sure I could trust him to keep it to himself. Charlotte is the only other one who knows about the baby, and it’s fucking killing me to keep everything inside. To pretend that Liam being a douche is the only reason I’m a mess right now. Sure, everyone knows now what happened that night, but they don’t know the truth. The agony I’m facing myself. How the one person I want to be here can’t be. That I question every single decision I’ve made over the past couple of months and wonder if what I’m doing is right or if I’m being selfish.

  “Why didn’t you say something before? I can’t believe you’ve been going through this alone.”

  “I have Char, but if I’m being honest, I put on a front around her because I don’t need her worrying.”

  Nik puts his arm out and I lean into his embrace and allow him to comfort me. I don’t know what it is about him or this particular moment, but I feel better just talking to him. He doesn’t treat me like a kid or judge me, he’s just here, and I need that right now. I’m afraid if I told my family, then they would make the situation worse. I don’t want words of comfort and a bunch of platitudes. I just want to move on.

  I finally yawn, and Nik chuckles. “Let’s get you upstairs, and if you give me shit for it, I’ll … I dunno, do something.”

  “No shit tonight.”

  After we lock up, he walks me to my door and before I have a chance to shut it, he sticks his foot in the crack. “I don’t really know what to say to you, Meara. I mean, you know I’ll do whatever you want me to do, right? I’ll keep it between us, I’ll tell whoever you want, I’ll—”