At home afterward, Libbie was already curled up under the blankets and sound asleep by the time Jack got into bed. Jack sighed, disappointed, but kissed her softly on the cheek and snuggled up next to her.
On a crisp night in February, Larry showed up at their door with a wide grin. “I’m back,” he said, laughing.
Jack hugged his friend, excited to see him. “I can’t believe you’ve been gone for two years,” he said as he led Larry inside. “It went so fast.”
“Not fast enough for me,” Larry said.
“Larry!” Libbie ran out from the kitchen and into his arms, hugging him tightly. When she finally pulled away, she beamed at him. “I’m so happy you’re safe and at home.”
“Me, too,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He looked around. “Hey, is that Spence? He’s a monster now!”
Libbie laughed and picked Spence up to show Larry. “Isn’t he adorable? And he loves it here. He has a sunny window seat to sleep in every afternoon.”
Larry scratched the cat behind the ears. “I don’t blame him for loving it here. These are quite some digs. What happened? Did you win a lottery or something?”
Jack explained how they ended up with the house, as they all sat in the living room. Libbie sprang up to get the pan of brownies she’d made earlier, and Larry praised her profusely for the treats.
“You don’t get these in the army,” he said as he stuffed a second one into his mouth.
He told them he was staying at his parents’ house for the time being, until he could find a job and get his own place. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to finish school or just work. Then he sang praises about how beautiful Southern California was and how he would have preferred to stay there.
“But you’d miss all of us,” Jack said, grinning.
Larry laughed. “I’d miss these brownies, that’s for sure.”
As they talked, Jack noticed the change in Larry. He still teased and joked, but his eyes didn’t shine the way they used to and he seemed tense. Jack hoped someday Larry would share his experiences in Vietnam with him so he’d understand it better, but not today. Today was for celebrating and catching up with his old friend.
March and April flew by. Change was constantly in the air. Their next-door neighbors sold their house and moved to Minneapolis. Good jobs had always been difficult to find in their little town, and with the downturn in the economy, it was getting harder. In addition, inflation was causing the price of everything to go up and making it difficult to raise a family on small-town pay. Jack felt lucky that there was always a need for mechanics, so his job was secure. But with the rise in prices, it continued to be necessary for him to work many nights a week repairing cars on the side. Libbie no longer complained about his long hours. He figured she was used to it by now, although he worried about her constantly. Her moods changed so quickly, he never knew from one minute to the next if she was happy or if she’d start yelling at him or crying. He had trouble understanding her behavior. When she was happy, she was almost exuberant. Her eyes shined brightly, and she’d do the work of two people around the house. But when she was down, she could barely function. He did his best to lighten her mood as much as possible, but with his own limited energy, it was difficult.
Often, when Jack worked late at night on a car at his uncle’s garage, Larry would show up with a six-pack and keep him company. Jack never drank while he worked on engines, but he enjoyed listening to Larry ramble on. Larry was working construction with a local contractor building houses. It was only part-time, since building was down right now, but it was something.
Jack confided to Larry his concerns about Libbie. There was no one else on earth he’d trust telling their personal problems to except his best friend. Larry listened and commiserated, but he never gave advice. He seemed to know that Jack just needed an ear to vent his frustrations to. Jack was relieved he finally had someone to talk to again. Between Libbie’s moody behavior and his constant working, Jack was exhausted. But he had to keep going, for Libbie’s sake.
Libbie knew she was losing her battle with pills and alcohol, but she simply didn’t have the energy to fight it anymore. Since the day she’d started the Valium again, she’d been unable to stop. Now she was taking up to five a day and drinking wine, and it was a wonder she could function at all.
She’d been successful at hiding her drinking from Jack all these months. On days she knew he’d be home, she forced herself to drink less so she could function enough to cook a meal. It wasn’t easy, because her body craved the alcohol as much as it craved Valium. Her nerves were raw and her hands would shake if she waited too long to take a pill or have a glass of wine. But keeping it from Jack was paramount. Libbie couldn’t bear for him to find out. He’d want her to see the doctor again, and she’d have to take those dreaded antidepressants. And he’d be disappointed in her, something she couldn’t even bear to think about.
Sometimes she’d wake up with renewed energy and buzz around the house with such intensity, it surprised her. Her heart raced, blood pounding in her ears until she couldn’t take the nervousness any longer and needed to take another pill or have another drink to relax. Other days, she could barely drag herself out of bed. These highs and lows drained her physically and emotionally. She lost weight, and her already petite frame became even smaller. When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Shadows framed her eyes, and her skin and hair no longer shined. There was a tightness around her mouth that reminded her of her mother. But even that realization couldn’t stop her from finding solace in one more glass of wine or one more pill.
Libbie hated that she often snapped at Jack but couldn’t control herself. One moment they’d be sharing a joke and laughing, the next moment she’d be yelling at him for not putting his clothes in the hamper or for leaving his shoes out. Her nerves walked the tautest tightrope, and the smallest infraction made her snap. Afterward, she’d fall to pieces, cry, and apologize profusely to Jack for yelling.
Libbie was losing control of her life and had no idea how to stop it.
In June, Libbie heard that Carol had given birth to a healthy baby girl. Carol called her several times to invite her over to see the baby, but Libbie made excuses each time. The last thing she needed to see was how happy Carol was with her new baby when Libbie couldn’t have one of her own. Finally, the calls stopped. A small part of Libbie was sad about ignoring her friend, but she knew that, for her own sanity, it was for the best.
The empty house next door was purchased in June by a single woman, and it wasn’t long before the neighborhood women began spreading gossip about her. Libbie rarely saw her friends anymore, but one day Natalie and June dropped by, and they warned her to watch out for the new neighbor.
“She’s divorced,” Natalie said in a hushed tone. “And you know what that means. She’ll be after all our husbands.”
“I heard she cheated on her husband, and that was why he left her,” June said.
Libbie listened to her friends with little interest. She didn’t care who the woman was or what she’d done. When Libbie finally met her one sunny day, she was struck by how stunning the woman was. She was tall and slender, with long, straight dark hair and big dark eyes fringed in thick lashes. Her skin was tanned a golden brown, and the sundress she wore showed off her shapely figure. Libbie was sitting outside at their patio table, trying to concentrate on a magazine article and failing miserably. The woman walked over, smiling brightly, and introduced herself.
“Hi. I’m your new neighbor,” she said, raising her hand to shake Libbie’s.
Libbie shook it. “Hello. I’m Libbie.”
“I’m Alicia. Alicia Alexander. It’s nice to meet you, Libbie.”
They talked about the weather and what Alicia did for a living. She told Libbie she worked as a secretary at a local law firm. She seemed nice, so Libbie didn’t give her a second thought. That is, until she saw Alicia talking to Jack one evening. He had just come home, and Libbie heard his truck driv
e up. She’d walked into the living room to glance out the window and see why it was taking him so long to come inside. He was standing on their lawn, talking to Alicia. He was smiling and nodding, and at one point Alicia squeezed his arm with her hand and Jack laughed.
Libbie’s heart pounded. She suddenly understood why the neighborhood women didn’t like Alicia.
When Jack came in, she jumped him immediately.
“What were you and Alicia talking about?”
Jack looked at her, surprised. “She came over and introduced herself. Then she commented on my uniform and asked if I was a mechanic.”
“You both were laughing like old friends. What was so damn funny about that?”
Jack grinned. “I said, ‘No, I just like to roll in grease all day.’”
Libbie felt angry heat rising up to her face. That was exactly what Jack had said to her, years ago, when she was flirting with him at the gas station. That had been their joke, and he’d used it on Alicia. She turned on her heel and stormed off to the kitchen. She wanted a drink so badly, but she didn’t dare have one in front of Jack.
Jack followed her. “What? We were just talking.”
“Yeah, right. I see how pretty she is. And she’s divorced. She’s probably looking for husband number two.” Libbie stood over the stove and stirred the gravy for the pot roast. Her motions were so violent, the saucepan spun on the burner.
“Hey, careful there,” Jack said soothingly, coming up behind her and gently placing his hand on her arm. “We don’t want you to get burned.”
Libbie dropped the spoon and spun to face him. “What do you care? You can go running to Alicia if I drop dead.”
Jack frowned. “Don’t talk like that. Why is this such a big deal? She came over and talked to me. I didn’t start the conversation. Besides, she’s at least ten years older than we are.”
Libbie pulled her arm away from him and ran out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. She leaned against the counter, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. Stop acting crazy. Stop acting crazy. He’ll leave you for sure.
Jack knocked on the door. “Libbie? Come on. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Libbie grabbed the bottle of Valium out of the medicine cabinet, opened it, and took one. She leaned against the wall, waiting for the pill to take effect so her heart would stop pounding and her thoughts would stop racing.
“Libbie! Please. Open the door!”
Libbie slid down the wall and sat on the floor as tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t have a baby, she’d lost control of her life, and next, she’d lose Jack.
Jack avoided his new neighbor at all costs after the scene Libbie had made over his talking to her. He only waved when he saw Alicia and continued on his way as fast as he could. He hadn’t understood Libbie’s jealousy that night, and he didn’t understand it now. But he didn’t want a repeat of Libbie’s jealous behavior.
After Libbie had locked herself in the bathroom, it had taken him an hour of coaxing through the door to get her to unlock it. He’d been ready to knock it down, but thankfully, he hadn’t needed to. Libbie had finally come out, meek as a kitten, and hugged Jack close, crying on his shoulder. He’d held her a long time as she cried and apologized, then cried some more.
He didn’t understand her moods, and it was wearing on him as much as it was on her.
He knew something was terribly wrong with Libbie. She’d lost so much weight that her clothes hung on her, and her eyes looked dull and lifeless. He asked her over and over again if she felt okay, and each time she brushed his concerns away: I’m tired; I just overdid it today; I’m getting a cold. Those were her excuses, but he knew there was more going on than tiredness or a cold. But when he asked if she should see a doctor, she flew into a rage and stormed into their bedroom, refusing to come out. So he gave up asking.
Time was wearing Jack down. Two years of working full-time and taking on additional work had taken its toll. He worried constantly about paying the bills and about Libbie’s health. Instead of feeling like a kid of twenty-two, he felt like an old man. He barely had the energy to keep himself going, let alone take care of Libbie when she fell to pieces. He tried, but he knew he was failing, and that made him feel even worse.
On a hot August evening, Jack came home directly from work instead of heading over to his uncle’s garage to work on a car. He was so tired; he just didn’t want to look at another engine that day. He hadn’t called to tell Libbie he’d be home early. He figured he’d shower, change, and then take her out for dinner. He hoped it would cheer her up.
When he walked into the house, he immediately noticed how quiet it was. Spence came over to greet him, and Jack scooped the cat up. Suddenly, an eerie feeling crept over him. It felt like he’d done this before. He shivered, despite the heat of the day. Turning toward the living room, he saw Libbie. She was lying on the sofa, one arm hanging limply to the floor. On the table beside her was an overturned bottle of red wine. It had left two tiny droplets of red liquid on the glass coffee table. They looked like blood.
Jack’s heart pounded. He dropped the cat and covered his face with his hands. “Oh God, no. Please, not again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
For the next two months, Jack came home most nights to Libbie passed out on the sofa or lying in bed. There was always a bottle of wine with her, and he knew now that she was also taking the Valium again. That first night, he thought for sure she’d overdosed again but was relieved to find that her breathing was normal. She’d passed out from drinking too much. He’d carried her off to bed and then lain down beside her for a long time, making sure she was okay. Tears stung his eyes to see her this way. She’d been such a vivacious, spirited girl when they’d first dated and married. What had happened? Her entire personality had changed, and Jack had no idea what he could do to make things better.
Libbie had broken down in tears the next morning when he’d asked her why she was drinking again. She’d apologized and promised she wouldn’t do it again. He wanted to believe her, but when each night came and he found her either passed out or staggering around trying to make dinner, he knew she couldn’t keep her promise.
He tried taking on less work and coming home early more often, but soon the bills piled up and he had to start working nights again to pay them. Besides, it didn’t matter if he came home on time or not now; Libbie would almost always be drunk or on her way to being so by the time he got home. It had become routine for him to come home, feed Spencer, and then carry Libbie off to bed. The refrigerator soon emptied of anything edible, and Libbie no longer shopped to fill it up. Yet she always had a bottle of wine and Jack had no idea how she got it or where she was hiding it. He searched the house several times, but never found where she kept it. Was someone bringing it over? And how was she paying for it? He’d stopped giving her money and had opened accounts at stores around town so she wouldn’t have cash on hand to buy wine. But that still didn’t stop her from getting it.
Arguing had also become the norm in their household. If Libbie was awake when he came home, she’d pick a fight with him: All you do is work. You don’t care about me anymore. You don’t appreciate all I do. It went on and on. Excuses for why she hadn’t made supper or gone shopping or done laundry. He never pointed a finger at her or complained. He didn’t want to stress her out more. Jack would stop by the grocery store after work and pick up food or bring home burgers for dinner. He did his own laundry, and hers, too, if she hadn’t done it. He never said a word to her about it, even when he was too tired to do it all. But she’d find a reason to fight, and it always ended with her running off and locking herself in the bathroom or bedroom. Jack gave up trying to coax her out. He was too drained.
Jack began blaming all their troubles on the house. He hadn’t wanted to accept the house from Libbie’s parents in the first place—he had known they couldn’t afford it. He’d agreed to it to make Libbie happy. But the h
ouse didn’t make her happy. He obviously didn’t make her happy, either. He soon began to resent and hate the house, as if it was at the core of all their problems. If they didn’t have the house, he wouldn’t have to work long hours, and Libbie wouldn’t have gone back to drinking again. At least that was what he thought, because he couldn’t bring himself to believe the alternative—that he was the reason she drank.
One chilly evening in early October, Jack came home around eight, after another shift at his uncle’s shop. It was dark out, and winter was already in the air. When he pulled into the driveway, he was startled to see the front door open. Hurrying inside, he saw Libbie lying on the sofa, a bottle of wine on the table. He wondered why the door was open. Had someone been here?
Then he remembered Spence.
He ran all over the house, searching under tables and beds for the orange tabby. He opened every closet and cupboard, checked the laundry room, and even pushed aside the shower curtain to check the tub. Spence was nowhere. Jack bent over Libbie, gently shaking her, trying to wake her up.
“Libs! Libs! Wake up! Spence is missing.”
She only raised an arm to push him away and curled deeper into the sofa.
Jack hurried outside and began looking through every bush and up in every tree for Spence. The cat had never lived outside, and Jack worried that he might get into a fight with a stray and get hurt. He knocked on doors telling everyone who answered that Spence had gotten out and was missing. Soon, the entire neighborhood was searching with flashlights for the cat.
“Where’s Libbie?” June asked. “She must be frantic.”
Jack lied and said she was too distraught to come out and look. He couldn’t bear to say she was passed out on the living room sofa.
An hour passed, and Jack was in a panic. He feared for the cat, but his worst fear was how Libbie would react if anything happened to Spence. She loved that cat dearly, and if he never came home, it would tear her apart. Especially if she found out she’d been the one to let him out.
Finding Libbie Page 23