The 14th Step by Hugh Cron (For Peter And Beth) – Adult Content

I wish I could switch off and not think. But I have to. I have to admit what I am, well what We are and I need to do something about it. But what the fuck do I do? I know what family and friends think. Not so much about Jill, but me. They think, fuck it, they know that I have a problem. I am in denial. Jesus Fuck! I’m into the fucking terminology already!There is no denying that I can function. Not only can I function, I do it very well. In fact, exceptionally well. I know that it is fucking killing me…And her but I, or should that be WE carry on. Why? Is it a self destruct button? I don’t think so, it isn’t as simple as that but in a way, it is. Who cares what happens to me, I sure don’t. I don’t give a fuck. No-one matters, that is the problem! But Jill should! And she does!! It is just getting things into perspective. That’s also a fucking laugh! Perspective…What is the perspective of shite? What is the perspective of this life shafting me so far up the arse that I am bleeding out of my eyes? It doesn’t matter. The booze helps, it numbs! I became numb years ago, a lifetime back. It isn’t even enjoyment or devilment. It isn’t even habit. It is me and who I am! Fucking me! This is what I am and I need to accept that I must change. The main problem is when you see someone you love behaving in a manner that they have never done before. Someone who was kind and gentle and thoughtful. Someone who was there for anyone, who would help, listen and be patient. Someone who didn’t have a selfish bone in her body. You see them not knowing what is going on around them. And I, act as normal but I didn’t. That night, I turned the TV down so that I could hear if she was sick. I went upstairs to our bedroom and made sure that they she was on her side. I checked her pulse by squeezing her neck. I used to kiss that neck and that night I was using it to check that she was still fucking alive. That was the night that Jill didn’t know what planet she was on!Is it time for the discussion? Is it an admission that we both have ‘The problem’? Bollocks to functioning, I know I can function…But…It is killing US. I love her, I am sure of that. I can’t take her down with me. I did this to her. It was my anger. My insecurities. My blanking off of life. It was all me and unfortunately she was brought along for the ride. Unfortunately that ride caught her and is now spitting her out. I can see it in her eyes, my eyes, our eyes, the eyes of the dead. I should be so proud.

So what to do? Change? We have to. She is not who she once was. She deserves to be that person again. I was always a cunt who was running. And I tainted her. She should never have been tainted. They should have been as she always was. It is only me who should be suffering. It is me who has no right to be able to reason this with a litre down me. I should be ashamed.

I am!

Time to change!

But I need to take this from a different angle and I have been given one.

 

“Have you moved from that couch since you got in?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“God help us!”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Have you not poured us out a drink? Is there any Gin left?…You haven’t fucking drunk it all have you?”

“No! I take it your work was its usual bollocks?”

“Yep. Your day the usual shite?”

“Yep.”

“I need out of there. Now where’s my drink.”

“I’ll pour YOU one.”

“What about you?”

“I’m on the wagon.”

“Right!!”

“No honestly.”

“This is a first. So why?”

“Robert’s dead.”

“…Aw shit! I’m sorry. The drink?”

“Yep.”

“You two were about the same age. Is that what you’re thinking?”

“No. I wasn’t entirely truthful with you.”

“About what?”

“…Remember when I told you I met him that day and he took me to his kiddies grave?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, we shared a can of cider whilst we stood over the kid.”

“…I don’t know what to say about that…But if the dad was happy to do it, why are you beating yourself up?”

“I heard about him today and that was all that came into my mind. It is a surreal memory. All I can see is me looking down on us, looking down on the kid whilst drinking a can of cheap fucking cider. It scares me Jill! It shames me. I have to change.”

“You’ve had a shock. It’s understandable. But the kid’s grave, it means nothing.”

“…What?! I can’t believe that you’re saying that!”

“For fuck sake there will have been many a person who has shared a drink with a dead relative.”

“But not a fucking baby!”

“I think you are over thinking. It’s just because you’ve lost someone you went to school with.”

“It’s not that simple! It’s like the kid was resenting us drinking our lives away and now she has taken her dad.”

“Fuck me! You really are a drama queen! What do you think is going to happen now? Robert and daughter floating over you as you sleep willing you to take your last breath. Jesus Christ!!”

“I thought you would understand.”

“I’m sorry. You have obviously been effected by this, so I do understand.”

“Will you help me?”

“…Jesus!…Of course I will.”

“Thanks Jill, that means a lot to me.”

“No problem. I’ll pour the drink and we can toast them both.”

“…”

“…Sure…Why not.”

Hugh Cron

Image by Charles Gillies – Ayr Cemetery Find A Grave Website.