Read Online Jack & Jill by Kealan Patrick Burke - Free Book Online
Authors: Kealan Patrick Burke
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happens to everyone, doesn't it?"
"Sure it does. It's life's biggest joke. Allow you your dreams then slam the door in your face when you're halfway to realizing them."
"I just remember things being so much better. So much less... work ."
"Do you blame me?" I asked, and when his eyes met mine, I smiled reassuringly. "I'm asking honestly, and if you say 'yes' I won't freak out , I promise. I know I've been a lot of the problem, but do you think I'm all of it?"
"Of course not. What's happening with you has just made it harder, that's all. I hate seeing you this way, and when you won't let me help, I feel...useless."
"I know. I didn't for a long while, but I do now. Over the past few days, I've started seeing what's been happening to me through your eyes, and the kids' eyes, and I can't stand it. What you said the other morning, about me needing help, you were right."
He looked surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to find a shrink and make an appointment."
Chris beamed. "That's great!"
"I'm not saying it'll help. I still think psychiatrists are crazier than their patients and about as competent, but I'll give it a shot. Baby steps, right?"
"Baby steps," Chris agreed, and toasted my glass with his bottle. "I'm proud of you. For trying, at least. And for the record, I don't think you're crazy. Just a little..."
"Bugshit? "
He laughed loudly. "Let's go with stressed. We'll wait for the shrink's verdict before we downgrade your diagnosis."
"Before you get too giddy, remember therapy isn't going to come cheap."
"What do you want to do? Sell one of the kids?" He grinned wryly.
"No, I already looked into that. Ohio isn't one of the states where it's allowed."
"So what are our options?"
"We could tip some whale hunters to the location of your mom."
Chris rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Gillian."
" Or , I can call Dan and tell him I've been sick and ask if he'll let me come back to work on Wednesday."
Chris sighed, obviously pleased that the ice over my heart had thawed. And though that wasn't entirely true, not yet, I was committed to getting there, to restoring some semblance of order in the chaos our lives had become. When things had been good between us, they'd been very good. I wanted that again.
As the night went on , the band painfully demonstrated why success had eluded them, and patrons more selective than we entered, heard the band, and promptly reversed their course while I measured the time in the amount of beer bottles that collected on the table. Though Chris had never been a bad drunk, nor did he seem to know when to stop. If the alcohol was there, he would keep drinking it until he passed out, threw up, or both. He claimed it was his Irish blood that gave him such a great tolerance for liquor. I preferred to think of it as a lack of discipline combined with immaturity and weak will. He also had a tendency to get emotional, and after nine beers and a shot of 151, that night was no exception.
"I love you, baby," he said, his eyes glassy, lips downturned as if his pro clamation had been an apology.
"I know you do, and you can tell me how much on the way to the car. It's after midnight. We told Jenny we'd be back by now. We need to get going."
He blew air out through his lips and waved a hand at me. "Home. Christ. It's early."
"Not for people with kids it isn't, and you have work tomorrow."
He shook his head in a way that reminded me of Sam. "I hate that fucking place."
"Home or work?"
"Work."
I smiled indulgently. "Since when?"
"Since always." He was starting to slur, and the words came out as Sssince awlays . "Ten years I'm there and I'm always the last to get any credit or recognition for anything. Fucking Kelvin Foley gets promoted twice and he's been there...what? Five years? Stubby little asshole."
"Good work always gets recognized eventually," I said, then jolted as the lead singer yowled into the microphone and adopted a rocker stance that looked like it was going to cause him a
"Sure it does. It's life's biggest joke. Allow you your dreams then slam the door in your face when you're halfway to realizing them."
"I just remember things being so much better. So much less... work ."
"Do you blame me?" I asked, and when his eyes met mine, I smiled reassuringly. "I'm asking honestly, and if you say 'yes' I won't freak out , I promise. I know I've been a lot of the problem, but do you think I'm all of it?"
"Of course not. What's happening with you has just made it harder, that's all. I hate seeing you this way, and when you won't let me help, I feel...useless."
"I know. I didn't for a long while, but I do now. Over the past few days, I've started seeing what's been happening to me through your eyes, and the kids' eyes, and I can't stand it. What you said the other morning, about me needing help, you were right."
He looked surprised. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to find a shrink and make an appointment."
Chris beamed. "That's great!"
"I'm not saying it'll help. I still think psychiatrists are crazier than their patients and about as competent, but I'll give it a shot. Baby steps, right?"
"Baby steps," Chris agreed, and toasted my glass with his bottle. "I'm proud of you. For trying, at least. And for the record, I don't think you're crazy. Just a little..."
"Bugshit? "
He laughed loudly. "Let's go with stressed. We'll wait for the shrink's verdict before we downgrade your diagnosis."
"Before you get too giddy, remember therapy isn't going to come cheap."
"What do you want to do? Sell one of the kids?" He grinned wryly.
"No, I already looked into that. Ohio isn't one of the states where it's allowed."
"So what are our options?"
"We could tip some whale hunters to the location of your mom."
Chris rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Gillian."
" Or , I can call Dan and tell him I've been sick and ask if he'll let me come back to work on Wednesday."
Chris sighed, obviously pleased that the ice over my heart had thawed. And though that wasn't entirely true, not yet, I was committed to getting there, to restoring some semblance of order in the chaos our lives had become. When things had been good between us, they'd been very good. I wanted that again.
As the night went on , the band painfully demonstrated why success had eluded them, and patrons more selective than we entered, heard the band, and promptly reversed their course while I measured the time in the amount of beer bottles that collected on the table. Though Chris had never been a bad drunk, nor did he seem to know when to stop. If the alcohol was there, he would keep drinking it until he passed out, threw up, or both. He claimed it was his Irish blood that gave him such a great tolerance for liquor. I preferred to think of it as a lack of discipline combined with immaturity and weak will. He also had a tendency to get emotional, and after nine beers and a shot of 151, that night was no exception.
"I love you, baby," he said, his eyes glassy, lips downturned as if his pro clamation had been an apology.
"I know you do, and you can tell me how much on the way to the car. It's after midnight. We told Jenny we'd be back by now. We need to get going."
He blew air out through his lips and waved a hand at me. "Home. Christ. It's early."
"Not for people with kids it isn't, and you have work tomorrow."
He shook his head in a way that reminded me of Sam. "I hate that fucking place."
"Home or work?"
"Work."
I smiled indulgently. "Since when?"
"Since always." He was starting to slur, and the words came out as Sssince awlays . "Ten years I'm there and I'm always the last to get any credit or recognition for anything. Fucking Kelvin Foley gets promoted twice and he's been there...what? Five years? Stubby little asshole."
"Good work always gets recognized eventually," I said, then jolted as the lead singer yowled into the microphone and adopted a rocker stance that looked like it was going to cause him a
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