Letters from an Alcoholic's Wife

Keith:

            Three years, 1,095 days, 26,280 hours. That’s how long we have been together. That’s how long it has been since my life was normal. That’s how long I have been helping you slowly kill yourself. That’s how long I have been writing down things to say to you, only to stuff them in a shoebox under our bed when you got home. Three years, one thousand ninety five days, twenty-six hundred eighty hours...that’s how long it took me to walk away.

            Keith, I love you. Know that, please. But I can’t sit here anymore pretending that our life is okay...it’s not. It hasn’t been in so long. I know that the man I fell in love with is still inside of you but he is so lost and I can’t wait for him to come back. You will find this in the morning; next to the jug of ‘sober juice’ I am making for you now. You won’t notice I am really gone until two...but that’s okay, you never did. In about a week you will find the bills you had never seen before – I normally pay them. Right now you don’t care. Right now you are...well I don’t know where you are – and I guess that’s one of the problems. I have to work tonight but I’m blowing it off. I need to get the Hell out of here as fast as possible. I want you to know what happened to me...because even though I have no Idea what happened to you for some reason I feel like I need to explain this to you.

            I don’t know what happened Keith. We were going to graduate school together; we had a plan. Even after you were expelled, we still had a plan. Remember? I was going to graduate; you were going to get a job; we would move in together and live happily ever after...but plans change I guess. You found something that made you happier than I did. You found something that gave you more pleasure than I ever could. You used to say that you loved me. Now you grumble through excuses before you pass out on the floor.

            Keith you have little holes in you arm. You used to try to cover them but you don’t anymore. Keith you smell like smoke and liquor. Your eyes still shine, just not in the way they used to. I tried to pretend that things weren’t what they were...eventually even my make-believe world came crumbling down. 

            Keith your dad hit you...our mom, your brother. I believe you are better than him. However what is true and what is True are two very different things. You came home late one night – you came home late most nights but this one was special – do you remember? Of course you don’t remember. You were drunk; you were stoned; I have no idea what you had been mixing that night...but we got into an argument. I don’t remember what it was about anymore and you hit me. And you hit me...

            The next morning I was bruised and you we sober – well as sober as you get. You didn’t remember anything. You asked me what happened and for some reason I covered for you...to yourself. I still don’t know why I lied to you. Why I felt the compulsion to protect you from realizing what you had become... I believed you were better than him.

            Keith things cost money: our house, our food, your “necessities”. Everything costs money and money sometimes costs a lot more.  I work in a dinner Keith, making minimum wage. We couldn’t afford our life. You wouldn’t do anything for us, so I did. I did something I’m not proud of, I have sold my soul and everything else – but I did what I did so that we could survive...You never noticed babe, not once.

            I cannot live like this anymore I am through playing pretend. I cannot sit back and watch you kill yourself. I will not let our daughter grow up in this death trap, I will not let you hurt her, and I will not give her a father like you.

Five months Keith. Four months and you still have not noticed me – noticed her. We are leaving Keith...and now you know why.



                                      I love you