The idea of drying out was overwhelming. To think I’d let that devil’s brew back in my body again. Risked what I’d worked so hard for the past several years to achieve. All ruined in one night. Last time had ended with Cassie taking Rox away from me. Rushing him to the hospital. Me, too drunk to drive. Desperately trying to stay awake but passing out anyway. Waking in the morning wondering where everyone had gone before the memory hit me like a flash of lightning. Cassie clutching my son’s limp body to her chest. Not sure if he was alive or dead. Trying to revive him with the beating of her heart. A silent scream. Eyes bulging and blinded by panic. Paralyzed, while I stumbled and tried to comprehend the severity of the situation. Then they were gone, just like now, and I was alone, never to see my son in the same condition again. I wondered what explanation Cassie had given for the need to leave so suddenly. Routine was important to Rox. He did not transition well.

Unlike Al, I had hit rock bottom. That morning, waking up in our apartment alone with the fragments of a nightmare surfacing that I knew was no dream. Seeking relief from the only reliable source I had, the frosty bottle of Smirnoff I kept in the freezer. Guzzling from the neck until I could muster the courage to make the call. Considering my numb response to the news being relayed by my wife as a show of strength and resolve.

Swelling of the brain

“It’ll be okay.”

Fractured skull

“He’s in good hands.”

Permanent damage

“Don’t worry.”

Half listening as I calculated how much liquor was left.

Sobriety had seemed like personality suicide. Killing my amorphous, rebellious self to assume the predictable shape of a square. No one writes rock songs about tap water or spontaneously drives to Vegas for the breakfast buffet. Despite my best efforts, I was being forced into the life I’d always protested. Because you can’t be a good guy who does bad things. That just makes you a liar. A fraud. And in my heart, I’m a good guy. Or want to be, anyway. Am willing to go square, if that’s what it takes.

If only Cassie had left me after that first night, like I’d wanted to leave her. If only I’d never met Al. Caspian and I would still be out on that road somewhere. Indulging our selfish hearts without harming anyone else. Either that, or dead. And I’d be okay with that.

Purge Palace, here I come. Please take the toxins from me. Make me worthy of my son, my wife. Please help make me whole again.

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen