Page 14 of Rome
“Oh Abby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started bitching like this. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Amelia cried, and I swiped at the tears on my cheek.
“It’s not your fault. I’m fine. I just can’t help worrying a little, you know?” My voice trailed off almost to a whisper.
“Do you want me to come over? We can pop some popcorn and binge-watch those true crime shows you love.”
“No, that’s OK. I’m tired anyway, so I think I’ll just have an early night. Thanks, though.”
“If you change your mind, call me.”
“I will.”
“I mean it, Abby. I’m your ride or die, remember? You need me, I’m there.”
That made my eyes tear up again. “I know. Love you, brat.”
“Love you, preggo.”
After ending the call, I decided to call it a night.
It took about ten minutes for my bedtime routine, which included rubbing a special cream over my belly to try to prevent even more stretch marks than I already had.
Slipping on one of the oversized nightshirts that I liked to sleep in, I folded back the comforter and settled onto my side of the bed. I picked up my phone and sent a quick text to Caleb, even though I knew he was probably too busy to respond.
Me: I hope you’re getting things worked out. Ethan’s asleep, and I’m going to bed now. Call me if you need me though. I love you.
I put the phone back down on the table and clicked off the light. I rolled over onto my side, which was the only even remotely comfortable position for me to sleep in, then bunched the pillow up under my head. Everly kicked again, like she’d been doing off and on most of the evening.
“Hey, sweet pea. No matter what you heard tonight when I was talking to Aunt Amelia, your daddy is a good man. He’s not perfect, but he is one of the best men I know, and he loves us with everything he has.” I sniffed as a tear rolled down my cheek, and Everly kicked again. I rubbed my hand over the spot, trying to soothe her, and myself. I couldn’t help remembering that awful morning last year.
Trick, Lucky, and Jagger had brought Caleb home in the wee hours of the morning, after a big party at the clubhouse with a visiting MC the night before. He was so drunk he could barely walk, so they were half-dragging, half-carrying him. There had been no way he could make it up the stairs, so they’d put him to bed on the couch. I’d brought a pillow and blanket downstairs for him, barely able to contain my anger as I tossed them on the end of the couch.
I’d been asking him for a couple of years to cut back on his drinking, and he would…for a month or two. Then, there would be a party, or a crisis, or it was a Tuesday – it seemed like any excuse to drink would do. Caleb would have a beer, then another, and another, then came the shots, and before long, he was completely shit-faced. Every damned time. He couldn’t just have one drink, it seemed. It was all or nothing with him.
I’d thanked the guys for bringing him home, thankful that at least Caleb never, ever, tried to drive after he’d been drinking. Not that anyone in the MC would have let him, but he never even tried. I’d gone back upstairs and had spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. The next morning, I’d gone downstairs, only to find the pillow and blanket untouched on the end of the couch, right where I’d left them. I had searched the first floor and had found Caleb passed out on the floor of the half-bathroom. He’d presumably gotten up at some point and had wandered in there. I’d been relieved that at least he didn’t seem to have injured himself.
I’d tried to rouse him, but he was out cold, and there was no way I could move his dead weight on my own. I’d stood there debating what to do – splash water on him or maybe call Jagger or one of the brothers to help me get him up – when I had heard Ethan calling for me as he’d clomped down the stairs.
I had tried not to panic as my gaze darted to where Caleb was sprawled on the floor in an ungainly heap. The bathroom was small, and he’d landed with his lower legs sticking out of the doorway, so there was no way for me to get the door closed so Ethan wouldn’t see him. The sound of my son’s sweet, innocent little voice cut me like a whip as he came up behind me.
“Daddy, what are you doing on the floor? Daddy?” I’d frantically tried to blink away my tears as I had wracked my brain for a way to explain this. “Mommy, why is daddy sleeping by the potty?” He’d giggled then, as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever seen. I had forced myself to smile, then put my arm around his shoulder and guided him back down the hallway and into the kitchen.
“Shh,” I’d told him, putting my finger up to my lips. “Daddy is sooo tired that he fell asleep in the bathroom. Let’s be really quiet so he can sleep for a while longer.”
Ethan had nodded, mimicking my shushing motion. “I can be quiet as a mouse, mommy,” he’d whispered.
“Why don’t we go out for breakfast, so we don’t wake him up? Let’s get dressed and we’ll go to the diner,” I had told him softly, then motioned for him to follow me back upstairs. I’d quickly gotten clothes out for him, instructing him to change and then brush his teeth and hair.
“I’ll go change my clothes, and I’ll be right back, OK?”
He’d nodded again, eager to get to our usual breakfast spot for his favorite chocolate-chip pancakes.
My anger had been building, and by the time I’d reached our bedroom, I was barely hanging on to my temper. I’d picked up my phone from beside the bed and only hesitated for a moment before I’d hit the button to call Jagger. When he’d answered, I’d spit out the words that I could never have imagined having to say.
“Caleb got drunk again last night, and is currently passed out on the bathroom floor, where Ethan just found him. Get Trick and Lucky, or whoever the fuck is available and get over here, now. I’m taking Ethan out to breakfast before he realizes something is wrong.”
Jagger started to say something, but I’d cut him off. “I’m telling you right now, Jagger, your brother had better be sober, showered, and ready for a goddamned fight by the time I get home. I’m done. I’ve had it with his drinking. He needs to either get a handle on it, or he can get the fuck out. I refuse to let our son be exposed to this shit anymore.”
I’d dropped Ethan off at my parents’ house after we finished at the diner. I hadn’t been able to force a single bite down my throat, but luckily Ethan was so enthralled with his pancakes that he hadn’t noticed. I’d driven around for a while after that, attempting to collect my thoughts, and trying to steel myself to have the conversation that I knew needed to happen.
