In the Mirror part 2 of 3

“Pancho?” Father Pollick asked, with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I called him Pancho.”

“Well, that sounds like you had a nice little introduction Steve. Now let’s get real here, you have a problem. It is most likely a health or mental problem. Do you hear me Steve? I can counsel you, can be your friend, but I am not the person who can help you make this all stop, do y’understand me?”

Steve paced in Father Pollicks office and slowly shook his head.

“Yes, yes I know. But I told you, I have a feeling Karen might start looking into the whole custody thing. If her lawyer finds out I’m seeing a shrink…”

‘She won’t have to know why you’re seeing a shrink. You’re a recovering alcoholic, that shows you are committed to improving your state Steve, how can that be viewed as a negative should it come to that?”

Steve stopped pacing and stared at Father Pollick.

“What if I am crazy?”

Pollick leaned back in is chair.

“Ah…I see. Steve-o, listen…”

“No, I won’t let anything take her away from me, Father. I won’t. You might as well stop pushing it. As afraid as I am about losing my marbles here, I am more afraid of losing Bri. And besides, I don’t feel crazy.”

“Go up to Westin Haven and ask all the mental patients up there if they feel crazy, Steve.”

Steve glared at Father Pollick, but Pollick just stared right back at him.

“You are showing symptoms of a mental disorder, Steve-o, symptoms. Whether or not you feel like the Mad-Hatter is really irrelevant. You need help, I won’t let you ignore that.”

“Well then think of it this way, Father. If I go and get a cat scan or whatever and they find that I’m mentally impaired, and they take my baby away from me, I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d go straight to that liquor store and get bombed off my ass! Oh yeah! It’ll be the bender to end all benders! I’ll hit every bar from here to the Mississip! And I wouldn’t stop until it killed me.”

Father Pollick narrowed his eyes at Steve. Steve knew he had just provoked him, and he also knew there was no winning with Pollick. He braced himself for a tongue-lashing. Instead Father Pollick just leaned forward and spoke softly.

“Grab your coat Steve.”

“Why?”

“We’re gonna go to the bar.”





“What the hell are you doin’?” Steve asked Father Pollick, as he sat in the passenger seat of Pollick’s Saab.

“What do you mean boy?” he replied while clicking his seat belt.

“Where are we really going?”

“ I told you. The bar. You said you liked Crease’s pub right?”

“I sure as hell didn’t. What the fuck are you trying to do to me here, huh? I come to you and basically lay a big bag of crazy in your lap, and your response is to take me to the one place that might completely destroy me?”

Father Pollick adjusted his mirror and put the car in drive.

“Yep.”

Crease’s pub was just as Steve had remembered, how could it have been any different? It seemed simueltaneously like heaven and hell. He recognized a few faces at the bar, but none he knew personally. Crease stood behind the bar washing a glass. He expected him to look up and give him a big hello. Instead Crease regarded Steve with quick nod, and went back to washing his glass.

“Where would you like to set, Steve-o?” Father Pollick asked.

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Steve replied.

“I tolerate a lot from you, but don’t you blaspheme…”

“Over here, by the window.”

The two of them sat at the corner of the bar. Steve smelled a putrid waft of a nearby cigarette disgusted him, but also reminded him of how much better it would test if it came from his own lips. Quitting smoking hadn’t even been a major concern of his, it had just fallen by the wayside slowly when he left the drink behind. But now that he was here…

“Nice little place,” Pollick remarked, “Could use a jukebox though, don’t you think?”

“It’s around the corner by the bathroom door.,” Steve said while picking at his fingernails.

“Wanna listen to some music? Wonder if they have Alan Jackson.

“Why don’t you just tell me why we are here,” Steve said, ever cogniscant of Crease. He was terrified of the impending moment when the grizzled barkeep would approach them and ask what they waned. Steve kept his attention on his nails. The glimmers from the stacked liquor bottles from behind the bar were whispering, and getting louder. He couldn’t believe Father Pollick was doing this to him. He could feel his close regard, even though Father Pollick was breezily surveying the scene with a small grin on his face. Just what the hell was going on here? Did Father Pollick really want to drink.?Steve knew that was impossible, but he couldn’t restrain feeling excited about the prospect. How wonderfully glorious would it be to toss back some beers with a new drinking buddy? Shoot some pool, shoot the shit, and shoot some shots! Steve twitched noticeably, and concentrated even harder on his fingernails.

Father Pollick turned and faced Steve, but before he could speak Crease approached and half muttered, “What’ll it be Steve. A round for you and your friend?”

Steve knew he must’ve looked like a maniac, but he refused to lift his gaze from his hands. He started picking underneath his nails sharply. He hated Father Pollick. He could kill him. Dear God a cold beer would just be…well…perfect. Never had the word felt more genuine.

“I’ll wait and see what he’s having, good sir,” Father Pollick said congenially. Crease grunted and looked back at Steve.

“What you havin’ then?”

Steve grit his teeth. He felt within him a murderous rage at his priest. This was the lowest, most cruel thing that could be done to him. He had fantasized about sitting at this bar so many nights in the past month, ordering a cold one, and letting that sweet-sour coolness run into his mouth and down his throat. It would taste like joy, like freedom. It would taste like beer.

Father Pollick was leaning towards Steve in anticipation of his answer. His face was solid and unassuming. Steve turned his head and glared at Pollick, forcing all of his rage and desperation into a single point. He was shaking, and he could her his teeth grinding.

“Well Steve,” Crease said, completely unapologetic. He’d seen the reformed drunks his whole life. Most of his business was made on it. Steve could start whooping like a bird but he would still serve him a cold one if he paid.

“Gotta drink somethin’, my boy. I’m sure Mr. Crease has a fine selection,” Father Pollick said, “So just tell him then. What do you want?”

Steve closed his eyes, fresh tears were staring to form. He took a deep breath, and opened them. He looked Crease in the eyes.

“Water.”

Crease grunted and poured him a glass of ice water.

“And you?” he asked Father Pollick.

“I’ll have me a Saspirilla.”

“A what?”

“Give him a root beer Crease,” Steve said, and drank nearly half the glass of water. Crease popped the top of a root beer, handed it to Pollick, and went back to washing his glasses.

Father Pollick and Steve sat in silence for a moment, both partaking of their drinks. Steve leaned back in his stool and stared t the bar. He had stopped shaking.

“So,” Father Polick finally spoke, “Pancho huh?”

Steve turned his head and scowled.

“You…are an asshole.”

“Indeed.”

“Why are you doing this to me.”

“Alcoholism is a problem,” Pollick said.

“Yeeeah?”

“A personal problem.”

Steve didn’t answer, he just took another sip of water.

“A personal problem that requires a personal choice. Personal action. A man must be tested in this fight. There’s no hiding from it, no waiting until it goes away. All that happens then is the drink gains momentum, it has time to grow and strengthen. If you don’t face this problem head on, and choose to battle it, face to face, every day, you’ll never be stronger than it. And that’s pretty much the way it is son, when a man has a problem you have to look it in the eyes, and just say ‘water,’ you hear?”

Steve sipped his water again and sulked.

“I have tried my best not sugarcoat things for you Steve. No sense in it. So many people do it nowadays, and not just in the clergy. I saw a commercial on TV the other day. A woman was suggesting that local parents band together to put an end to bullying in schools. To stop the psychological injuries to their children, to shelter and protect. I had to shut it off.”

“Why?” Steve asked.

“I’m no advocate of bullying, I despise the like. But Steve, without adversity there is no strength! There are some things that never go away, and adversity is one of them. You can shelter a person as long as humanly possibly, but eventually that person will come face to face with it. And then all you’ve done is stifle any sort of growth or strength that may have been able to have dealt with that adversity.”

“I see. You’re still an asshole,” Steve replied.

“You have a problem.”

“I know, and I said ‘water’, dammit!” Steve yelled.

“No you didn’t.” Father Pollick replied. Steve was silent, they regarded each other.

“What…”

“You are seeing a Mexican boy in your mirror. You have a problem. A personal problem. And personal problems require action. Are you hearing any of this Steven? This will not go away on its own!”

“I told you, I am not seeing a doc…”

“Fine then, Steve! That’s your choice. But you need to make up your mind on this. If you won’t get yourself checked, then you need to find a way to battle this. You need to do something, doesn’t matter what as long as you believe it might help. I can see you Steve, I can see you ignoring every mirror you see, curled up in your bed all day afraid to walk outside. Doing nothing will not help you at all, eventually it will beat you, sooner rather than later I’d imagine. You’ll be hauled away to the nuthouse just like you fear. Now if you won’t go to a doctor, you find some way to beat this Steve-o. You pray, you hear me? You pray and you fight!”

Steve put his glass on the bar, a tear rolled down his cheek as he stared forward. He was speechless.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late down the soup kitchen. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride. You’re welcome to help.”

Steve got up and followed Pollick back to his car. He didn’t even look back at Crease’s pub.





Steve paced his small living room, phone in hand.  Father pollick had dropped him off an hour ago, Steve had hardly said a word to him, half out of anger and half out of getting the point.

“Prick,” Steve said unconvincingly. The phone was alit, waiting for the numbers. Steve shook his head. He refused to acknowledge Pollick’s speech directly, but he knew he had to do something. The Mexican was waiting patiently in the mirror, Steve knew he’d be there in the bathroom as sure as the toilet was. He knew the right thing to do was seek professional help. Hell, even though his own self-regard had reached its lowest level since birth, even he was beginning to get a bit worried about his mental state. Still, he couldn’t go that route, not now.  Maybe when things were better.

Steve dialed 5 digits of Karen’s number before turning the phone off and sitting. It was pointless to even verbalize his need for a drink anymore, it had become part of him. I breathe, I walk, I eat, I shit, and I want a goddamn drink. There was nothing else to it. Steve lit the phone again, as soon as it was green he felt the fear again. He wasn’t even sure hat he was afraid of anymore, probably just afraid that his life would add to nothing, that he would die alone and forgotten, hated by everyone and himself.

Steve bolted up and ran to the bathroom.

Inside the boy was waiting patiently, calmly surveying Steve’s exhausted features and expression. Steve wiped the mirror with his forearm and stared. Yes, there was a bruise forming under the eye, he had not been mistaken.

“What the hell then…” Steve muttered.

The Mexican’s eye was slowly starting the swell as well, it looked like he had been in a bar fight a week ago, the bruise almost healed but not quite.

“This can’t be good,” Steve said, “You’re changing. Why are you changing. What does it mean?”

The Mexican didn’t answer.

Steve ran the water in the sink, splashed it on his face, and after one last look at the boy in the mirror, he dialed Karen’s number.



         Bri giggled as she threw the bear back to Vince. Karen watched and smiled as the two new friends played on the living room floor. Bri seemed to like him, in fact she always smiled when he came around, but Karen couldn’t help but notice that Brianna never addressed him by his name, never addressed him at all really. She simply reacted to him when he was around, but she refused to give him a name in her small heart yet. That was probably her devotion to her Daddy. Karen hoped that would pass and soon she would ask “Mommy, when’s Vince commin’?”

         The phone rang. Vince looked to see if Karen was going to get it. She twitched her eyes and nodded. Somehow they both knew who it was. Karen started up but Vince made it to the phone first. He gave her a pinch on the butt, making Karen giggle, before picking up the receiver.

         “Hello?”

         A quick sigh on the other line.

         “Hi Vince, can you put Karen on the phone?”

         “Hi there Steve,” Vince said, and switched phone hands while giving Karen a wink.

         “Yeah hi. How are you? Can I talk to my…can I please speak to Karen?”

         “Sure, sure. In a minute Steve,” Vince turned to see that Karen had gone back to the living room, just out of earshot, “I feel I have to ask though…Steve, have you been drinking?”

         Silence for a moment.

         “No,” Steve answered, calmly restraining himself.

         “Ah, good then. Listen I don’t know if this is the right time Steve, sober or not, I’m not sure Karen is very excited at the prospect of speaking with you. I’m sure you can understand that, right?”

         “Y-yes, vince, yes I can sure I understand that. But I won’t be long, can you please put her on?”

         “Listen, Steve…”

         “Vince, man to man, and with all due respect….would you please shut up and hand her the phone?”

         Vincent clicked his tongue and smiled, exhaling loudly so Steve could hear his smile over the phone.

         “I suppose so Steve. You behave now,” he replied, and before Steve could respond he called, “Karen! Publisher’s clearing house is on the phone! I think you won!”

         Karen rolled her eyes and walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the receiver.

         “Yes?”

         “Hi Karen, how are you?”

         “Not too bad, I suppose. We were just playing. I have to run to the office for a few hours later then we are taking Bri to the game.”

         “Well who’s watching her while you’re at the office?”

         “Who do you think Steve?”

         “Well okay, but I was really calling because I missed my shift today, I’m working a double tomorrow, I was hoping I could maybe take Bri to the park or something?” Steve asked.

         Karen twirled the cord in her fingers.

         “I don’t know.”

         “It’ll only be for an hour or so. I’m supposed to see her tomorrow you know, but I can’t. No big deal, I’ll pick her up, we can have lunch or something, and I’ll bring her home. Nothing big,” Steve said, hoping his lie about work was being bought. He was actually off until Tuesday.

         “Steve, after yesterday, I think it would be best if you kept your distance for a little while, don’t you?”

         “That’s fair, I think I should keep my distance, but from you Karen. You and Vince. I don’t belong around you two anyway, but I was hoping that wouldn’t apply to Bri. I’m…I’m hoping that I can still see her…from time to time, yeah?” Steve asked. His voice was so passive and docile he might as well have been on his knees.

         Karen knew this, but she also knew Steve was being honest. He wasn’t playing an angle here, he wasn’t trying to charm her into anything. Still…she was so mad at him. She decided to suggest something she knew would make him burst, and vindicate her anger.

         “I’ll agree if Vince goes with you,” she said.

         There was silence on the other end, the silence lasted longer than she expected.

         “Okay. That’s fine.”

         Now it was Karen’s turn to be silent. She really didn’t know what to say. A few moments passed, she was speechless.

         “You there?” Steve asked.

         “Yes, yes. Okay, come over around 3:30, and you can take her.”

         “3:30. On the dot. Thanks babe.”

         Click.





         “Which one you wanna go on first, slide or swings?”

         Brianna index finger was on her mouth, and she tilted back and forth with a sweet smile.

         “Uhhhh, I don’t know!” She replied, and giggled.

         Steve grinned and picked her up.

         “You don’t know huh?” he said, and gave her an Eskimo kiss, “Whaddya mean you don’t know! Those swings aren’t gonna swing themselves!”

         “Yeah, and that slide ain’t gonna slide itself Daddy!” she replied, laughing.

         “Very true!” he replied, “Howzabout you go on the swings, and Daddy will go down the slide?”

         “You’re too big Daddy!”

         “What? Me? Noooo…” Steve said, and Bri giggled again. He ran straight for the slide, and looked back his daughter with a goofy face, and grabbed the ladder to the slide.

         “Daddy! Too big!”

         “I’ll show you too big!” Steve yelled, and climbed the ladder. Brianna was laughing hysterically and rounded the slide to see her father standing on top, looking like a giant.

         “Here I go!” Steve said, and slid about halfway down before he stuck in the grooves.

         “See! See! Too big!” Bri said, and climbed up the slide to her father. Steve picked her up and put her on his lap. Bri hugged him, and tucked her forehead underneath Steve’s chin, a place Karen used to call “Bri’s Nook.” Steve held her and smiled. He had forgotten the Mexican, had forgotten the drink, for the brief moment he held her, he only remembered her.

         Karen ended up balking on the whole Vincent threat, Steve suspeced that she was bluffing but still resolved to put up with him if that’s what she wanted. But when Steve pulled up to the house, Bri was satnding in the doorway with her mother, he assumed a subdued Vince was inside sulking.

         It was a brisk day, cloudy but dry. October was rearing it’s head and the leaves had begun to fall. Despite the nice day, they were alone in the park. Steve pushed her on the swings for a while. They played catch with a tennis ball Steve brought. It was really more like fetch, Karen always used to hate when they played, she’d always remark that she’s not a dog, but Bri loved the game, she tried each time to return the ball faster and faster, and she laughed with utter glee. It was her favorite game.

         After a while they sat on the bench and Steve opened the bag lunch Karen had packed. He smiled slightly when he saw she had also made him a sandwich.

         “So what’s new squirt?” Steve asked her, taing a bite of his sandwich.

         “Oh nothin” she replied.

         “No? Something’s always gotta be new when you’re a princess,” Steve said, and Bri smiled and continued playing with the plastic baggie holding her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

         “Hmm, well if nothing’s new then I guess you’re not a princess then.”

         “I am too! You always says I am.”

         “Of course you are. The prettiest. But which princess?”

         “The one with the dress!”

         “The dress?”

         “Yeah, the one who sings and lives in the woods. She ran away from the man with the knife.”

         “Oh thaaat one,” Steve replied,and ate more of his sandwich.

Brianna was silent for a moment, the smile faded from her eyes and she stared at the bench solemnly all of a sudden. Steve had never seen Bri look so serious, almost introspective suddenly. He wanted to say something, but was equally silent. Finally his daughter spoke.

“In the mirror,” she said.

Steve dropped the rest of his sandwich. Bri slowly raised her head and looked at him.

“In the mirror, Daddy.”

Before Steve could speak he heard the honk of a car from behind him. Steve looked at Bri one moment longer and turned his head.

It was Vince, in his CR-V. He was waving with a big grin on his face. Steve got up and started towards him.

Vince put the car in park, killed the engine, and got out.

“Can I help you Vince?”

“Oh, I was just sitting at home, feeling bored, I figured I’d stop down and see you two!” he said, and walked past Steve to the bench here Bri sat, “Hey there squirt!”

Squirt. He called her squirt. Steve wanted to punt the prick.

“Hi,” Bri said, and went back to her sandwich.

“Vince, I would really rather spend some time alone with her.”

“Sure you do,” Steve said, sitting at the bench with his back to Steve, “You two having fun? Huh Bri?”

Bri nodded her head.

“Did you hear me?” Steve said.

Vince turned around and grinned.

“Yes, I heard you Steve. In one ear and out the other. I don’t much care what you want,” he replied. Steve gritted his teeth audibly. He absolutely could not stand the impetulant position he was in in his life right now. A year ago he would have beat this mind to an inch of his life.Gritting his teeth was all he could do now.

“You see Steve,” Vince continued, “I know Karen has been an absolute angel with you, but I simply can’t stand by and watch this precious young girl be subjected to you and your lifestyle. I’m a doctor Steve, I’ve seen a lot of sick people, I can spot them with a look. And you, my friend, are a sick person. You always have been and always will be. This newfound sobriety of yours is just a band-aid, you are delaying the inevitable. I know people like you, you will fall of the wagon. You absolutely will, 100% guarantee. And when you do, you will damage this child. Hopefully not physically, though that is a distinct possibility, but at the very least emotionally. I might be able to stand by if she was a teenager, but she is so early in her development, I can’t with good conscious allow her mind and heart to be warped by your irresponsible and destructive behavior. I’ve seen it happen too many times before. It never ends well.”

Steve balled his fist and began to tremble. The only thing that held him back was the notion that Vince was probably right. Not about him, but about the other situations he’d probably seen and had led him to this conclusion.

“You’re wrong. I lover her.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do. I really am. Love is a strong emotion, one that can become violent and destructive given the right motivation in a drunken state.”

“I’m done drinking. I…am…done. She’s my life now Vince,” Steve said, and truly meant.

“No you’re not Steve. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but you really aren’t.”

Steve could only stare. Bri had run back to the swings. Vince only looked back unapologetically, with his legs crossed.

“You have to believe me…” Steve started.

“I don’t, and the real reason I came down here was to let you know, just between you and me, that I am going to be taking steps to ensure you are not involved her life from now on. Karen and I are getting married. Brianna, for all intensive purposes, will be my responsibilty. I’m sure we can work out possibly a monthly visit, with a chaperone, but I’m still not sure about that. We’ll have to see.”

“I will fucking kill you,” Steve said, finally verbalizing the only thought that had been running through his mind. He wished immediately that he could take it back.

“Thank you for proving my point. Now I’d like you to go home now. I’ll take her home. Don’t make this harder, you’ll only motivate me more to completely take her away from you. If you can be civil about this maybe we can work something out.”

Steve’s eyes began to water. His rage and fear had converged into a primal state of violence he had never felt before. It took all of his strength to keep it at bay.

“You need to leave. Now. I’ll tell Bri you had to go. Please Steve, go now before this gets worse. And believe me, it can get much worse.”

Steve knew he had to go. Not out of fear of Vincent, but because of the knowledge that if he stayed here any longer he would pound his face into the ground until it was flat and wet.

Steve finally turned, and walked back to his car.





Steve unlocked the door to his apartment, and entered defeated. His brain couldn’t process what had just happened, it was protecting Steve as long as it could before the inevitable crash. He threw his keys on the coffee table, and just stood. For minutes, hours, it didn’t matter. He was a zombie. He was bereft of all that qualifies a human. Everything he had ever aspired to, ever loved, was being wrenched from his soul violenty and without pity. And perhaps what was worst, he knew he deserved it. He was the bad guy. He never meant to be, never even considered it, but Steve beagn to realize that most of the bad guys were ignorant, and blind. Some of them were drunk.

He sat on his couch and stared longer still. Could Vince really do it? Steve ashamedly knew Vince was the smarter man, the better man. Going head to head with him, he would lose. Vince would mop the floor with what was left of Steve’s life, and probably be whistling while he did it.

“That fucking…” Steve said then thought for a moment, “That fucking Mexican!”

Steve stood and ran straight to the bathroom, the door flew open with a boom. Steve turned, with a murderous gaze, and beheld his guest once more.

“What? What! WHAT!” Steve hollered, “What do you want! Tell me! Tell me you lazy, wetback job stealin’ son of a bitch! Is there something I can do for you, huh? Want me to sneak some of your padres across the border? Want to pimp my ride? You want some fuckin’ Taco Bell!”

Steve raised his hand in a fist and swung at the mirror, stopping only inches from the glass. The Mexican boy just looked back unaffected. Steve noticed the bruise was getting larger and darker. The Mexican blinked.

Steve fell to his knees and sobbed. He covered his face and cried with utmost abandon. He muttered, shouted, and cursed. His tears hit the linoleum and splattered; Steve laid his head against the porcelain and wept.

After the fit subsided, he breathed deeply, eyes to the floor. He sniffed and wiped his nose.

“I’ll-I’ll have a bourbon, waterback. No, fuck that, straight. On the rocks, with a beerback. And make it a double Crease,” Steve muttered, “I’ve had a hell of a day, I need you to keep em coming. Ahh, yeah that’s a good poor you ol’ bastard. No no, that’s enough ice. Yeah, now slide that baby over here. Ha, weeeell I ain’t seen mah baby sice I don’t know when! I been drinkin bourbon whiskey, scotch and gin!  Mmmm, tastes fine Crease. That’s just fine.”

Steve bean to cry again, this time just a few soft sobs. He wiped his nose again and stood.

The boys left cheek now had a full laceration, completely fresh and completely new. It was a three or four inch gash. It looked as though it should have been spurting blood, it was wide open and deep, but only a few drops seeped out. His face remained solemn, but the bruise was now black and thick.

Steve gasped, and left the room in a hurry.





“I don’t understand. Why did he have to leave?” Karen asked.

Vince had his arm around her, they were sanding in the kitchen.

“I told you hon, he called me up and said he needed me to come get her, he couldn’t stay.”

“Did he say why?”

“No, and I asked him, believe me. All he kept saying was that he had to go, over and over, like that. I went straight down there of course. Bri was on a swing and Steve was just sitting ona  bench, looking the other way. He didn’t say a word to me, as soon as I pulled up he marched straight to his car.”

“He didn’t say anything? He just left, he didn’t even say goodbye to Bri?” Karen asked.

“No, didn’t even look back.”

Karen paced the kitchen with a worrisome look on her face.

“That’s not like him, not like him at all Vince. He’s never left without kissing her. Hell, he’s never left her side unless he absolutely had to. I wonder why he had to go?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t. Only…” Vince said, then paused.

“Only what?”

“Nothing,” Vince replied, and waved his hand, “It’s probably nothing. Forget it.”

“Dammit Vincent, what are you talking about? You can tell me.”

“Well, it might benothing, but when he opened his car door I heard something fall out. It-it sounded like a can honey.I know, I know it could’ve just been my imagination.”

“Oh Vince…”

“When he pulled away I could see something lying on the road, I was too far away to see it but there was something there.”

“Well did you go see what it was?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well why the hell not?”

Vince approached Karen and slid his arms around her, pulling her close.

“I guess I didn’t want to know, you know?” he said tenderly.

Karen stroked his hair and sighed.

“Oh babyI know exactly what you mean, it’s hard to face that, I’ve been through the same thing many times. But if he’s drinking again we have to…”

“I know, and again it could have just been my imagination. It might not even have been a can. Or if it was, could’ve just as easily been a Diet Pepsi or something,” Vince said, and smiled. Karen smiled back.

“Yeah, sure.”

Vince kissed her forehead gently, and stroked her hair.

“You know I love you.”

“I know.”

“I can’t wait to live the rest of my life with you. You and Bri. A family. Minvans, PTA meetings,” Vince said, and began dancing with her slowly to her amusement, “I’ll finish mowing the lawn before supper, I swear honey!”

Karen laughed and swayed back and forth with him, a warm smile on her face.

“Hm, you missed a spot,” she whispered, and kissed him softly.

The two danced by the oven, lips locked, when bri walked in.

“Eew!” She said, and giggled.

Karen pulled away and laughed.

“Eew, I know Bri-Bri, eeew! You ready for dinner? Vince is gonna make some fajitas!”

“Yeah!”

“Just the three of us,” Karen said, and looked at Vince with a genuine smile.

Vince smiled back.





READ THE CONCLUSION IN PART 3