“I mean it. You’ve come a long way, and this is the healthiest I’ve ever seen you.” I brought the girls’ princess cups over to the sink.
“It’s the best I’ve ever felt.”
I exhaled, turning one of the cups in my hand. “I’d like to feel better. I thought leaving Claire would give me some peace, but it hasn’t. I feel worse.”
Aaron nodded. “I know that feeling. When the choice you’ve made was the wrong one, and it just makes you hate yourself more.”
“Exactly.”
“It takes a strong man to admit when he’s wrong and try to make things right. Especially when it means you’ve got to face a few monsters first.”
I nodded slowly. “I’ve kept mine locked up a long time. They’re mad as fuck.”
He chuckled. “Let ’em out. Let ’em do their worst. Then tell them they don’t scare you anymore. Beat the hell out of them.” He glanced at me. “You’re strong enough. I know you are. Look at the way you were able to quit drinking. That was hard, and you did it.”
“Yeah. It was.”
“And it was the right decision.”
Exhaling, I set the cup on the counter. “I really fucking miss her. Everything about her. It hurts.”
“I know. I’ve been there. But I promise you, if you can get past this, things will be even better than they were before. For both of you.”
* * *
I went home that night and thought about the things he’d said.
I’ve watched you make too many bad decisions in your life.
When you love someone, you stay.
You learned early on not to trust.
The past doesn’t have to repeat itself.
It just makes you hate yourself more.
It takes a strong man to admit when he’s wrong and try to make things right.
I could be a stronger man. A better man. Maybe not perfect, but better.
I was dying to call Claire—or better, go see her and hold her and kiss her—but I couldn’t do that just yet.
You’ve got to face a few monsters first.
Lying on my back in the dark, I put my hands behind my head. I stared at the ceiling, but what I saw was the bigger picture of my life. The patterns. The mistakes. The fear. The sabotage. The guilt. The self-inflicted punishment.
I saw a child who grew up wondering why he hadn’t been enough to make his mother stay. Who wondered if anyone loved him. Who wondered if love meant anything at all. Who never felt safe.
I saw a teenager who had everything going for him. Who panicked when things got too hard. Who figured he was destined to turn out a fucked-up failure anyway, and if his own parents hadn’t cared, why should he?
I saw myself at twenty-two, getting out of prison and realizing I’d done more than just lose a year of my life. I’d lost rights, opportunities, and freedom. I’d lost respect, possibility, hope. But I didn’t think I deserved those things, anyway, so I drank to numb the pain.
I saw myself at twenty-five, when Aaron’s first child was born. He’d invited me to come see them, let me hold Ava—me, holding a baby. I’d never forget that day. He’d smiled and placed that red-faced, tiny-fisted, wailing little bird-boned creature in my arms. She was so frail, so small, so innocent. I’d stared at her, and at my brother, in complete amazement. He trusted me to hold her? It had meant everything to me.
I never took another drink.
But looking back, I saw how I’d continued to avoid facing my fears by pretending to be someone else wherever I was. I’d avoided having to commit to anyone by moving around all the time. And I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want anything but temporary, superficial games and good times.
But now I wanted more. I wanted to stay, I wanted to trust, I wanted to love. I wanted to build something strong enough to last.
And I wanted to build it with Claire.
I hoped I wasn’t too late.
* * *
Over the next day and a half, I thought hard about what I could do to convince Claire to give me another chance. To see that I was willing to work on myself. To believe in me. It wouldn’t be easy—for all she knew, I was just going to walk out again the next time I got scared. And there would be a next time. I wasn’t going to pretend I’d never feel that fear of being abandoned ever again, but like my brother said, by admitting it, putting it out there and talking honestly about it with her, I could lessen its hold on me.
But how could I even convince her to have that honest conversation? If I were her, I probably wouldn’t even want to let me in the door. I needed to think of a way to show her I was in this for real.
I was dying to tell her I loved her, but words wouldn’t be enough.
What mattered to Claire? What would prove that I had listened to her well enough to know what it meant to say, I love you and I can make you happy—will you let me?
It came to me while I was watching my nieces, two nights after my conversation with Aaron and ten days after I’d last seen Claire. Josie was working, and Aaron had asked me if I’d mind coming over so he could attend a meeting. I was sitting on the floor trying to read them a story, but they were climbing all over me like a human jungle gym.
“Uncle Theo, Daddy says you build things. Will you build us a playscape in the backyard?” Ava asked, attempting to sit on my shoulders. “We don’t even have a swing.”
“I guess I could.” I set the book down and took her by the hands to help her balance. “But it depends on how long you guys are going to live here.” Recently Josie and Aaron had talked about moving to a bigger house as soon as they could afford it. “We don’t want to build something if you’re not staying.”