Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
The worst thing Neil can do in an argument with me is try to act like he’s being totally reasonable and I’m the one out of my mind. It only enrages me further, making him seem even more collected in comparison. He tried that now. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting, just a bit? It isn’t as though I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills.”
“No, just Valium and scotch and enough marijuana hard candy to make me want to call the hospital!” My anger was like a jackhammer inside my body, shaking my bones. “Can you imagine how upsetting that would be to Emma? If you were in the hospital, again? And during her grandmother’s funeral?”
He glanced sideways at me but didn’t maintain eye contact. When he spoke, it was in the maddening, controlled voice that always sounded as if he were scolding me. “I’m in pain, Sophie. My mother has just died.”
“Don’t use that angry dad voice on me. It’s not intimidating.” I paced the room, from the door to the fireplace to the window. “I understand that you’re hurting, but that doesn’t mean you can be reckless. You need to be present this week. Your brothers and sister are going to need you. Your daughter needs you.”
“And who do I need, Sophie?” he demanded. “Who will be there for me, in all of this, this obligation you’re heaping on me?”
“I will, you big dumbass!”
Neil’s expression of outrage was somewhat spoiled by the twitches at the corners of his mouth. I couldn’t stay at my level of upset, either. I was too exhausted, and as far as angry retorts went, that one hadn’t been my best. It would be foolish to keep fighting.
Bleary eyed, Neil patted the bed beside him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
I sat, still reluctant to make it seem like all was forgiven. “I called Valerie.”
“Why did you do that?” He squinted slightly, a deep vertical line of confusion appearing between his brows.
“I needed help. I wanted to keep this from Emma.” With a shaky breath, I added, “And I had to know what was up with all this. She said you’ve done this before.”
There was a catch to the beginning of his exhale, and that soft noise dashed any hope I had about this being an easy conversation. He’d already lapsed back into Sophie-is-overreacting mode. “Valerie has known me for a long time. I’m sure she had a lengthy list of my faults catalogued.”
“Don’t blame this on Valerie. You’re the one who fucked up,” I said softly. I took his hand in mine. “I need you to go back to therapy. When we get back home, I want you to make some calls.”
“I don’t need any more therapy.” It had been a touchy subject between us, since he’d stopped seeing the counselor he’d consulted in New York. I’d thought he could use more time. He’d wanted to be better so badly, he’d gone to this whole new level of denial and declared himself just fine.
“Then, you need AA. But I’m not sure how ‘A’ it’s going to be.” I didn’t need to remind him of that. We’d been under some increased scrutiny since my book had come out, and since Emma’s lavish wedding had been gushed over by “society.” Whoever those people were.
“Fine, I’ll call.” He lifted my hand to his lips to kiss it. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“We’ll talk about it later. Let’s just get through this week. I know it’s going to be hard for you.” I searched his expression for any indication of grief or sadness. Mainly, he just looked tired.
“It will be. I suspect I won’t fall apart until after the funeral, though. At the moment, I’m just…numb.” He shrugged. “It was this way when my father died. It was so sudden, I shut down.”
“Is that why you were on the psychotropic train to Blissville?”
The suggestion of a resigned smile crossed his face. “I needed to feel something. And to not feel anything.”
“Not what you were feeling before. I get it.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Your mother loved you so much.”
“She did.” He put his arm around me and squeezed me to his side.
“It’s okay if you’re still in shock. There aren’t any rules for how to grieve.” I wished I was better at comforting people. “You can’t beat yourself up over what you’re not feeling. Especially when you know that, eventually, you’ll get there.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Thank you for being sensible when I can’t.”
“And thank you for being sensible enough to get some counseling.” There. I was being so earnest he’d have to go through with it.
Neil stood and took a few unsteady steps. “Oh dear god, the head rush.”
I started to get up to rescue him, but he straightened out on his own, albeit staggering like a sailor. He dragged his hands down his face. “You’re right, Sophie. I have been incredibly stupid.”