Like Real People Do

17. Many Shades of Black

TW: Substance Abuse (Alcoholism)

Go ahead, go ahead and smash it on the floor. Take whatever's left and take it with you out the door. See if I cry, see if I shed one single sorry tear. I can't say it's been that great. No, in fact, it's been a wasted, worried year. -The Raconteurs

Tuesday, June 15th

The urge to drink was so small recently that Shane had almost forgotten how disruptive it was in the first place. Days spent with Rhiannon were almost always good ones, and the ones in between had a new sense of purpose. Finally, he had reasons not to drink, and fixing up that old piece of shit truck was one of his favorites.

For the first time since he'd crawled into this hole, there was a light at the end of it. The light was in Jas while they played pirates together on the ranch, then settled down with the setting sun to read bedtime stories. The light was in Marnie, who smiled wider and wider every time she saw him getting up for work on time, reading with Jas, and with a renewed interest in helping her care for the animals. The light was in his own reflection, which looked less like his old man with every passing day of sobriety. The light was perhaps brightest of all in Rhiannon, and he was grateful for it every time he saw her.

However, wherever there was light, he learned, darkness was not usually far behind.

Shane had been looking for every excuse to stretch out his project. He changed the oil, installed the new spark plugs, fixed the transmission, and replaced the taillight, but once he finally fixed that rear-view mirror he'd held up for her the day she pulled him from the earth, there were no more excuses left to be made. Now, holding the unopened envelope Natalie sent him in the mail, he would have given anything for the truck to break down again.

Memories of Natalie were not often pleasant. Whatever semblance of a happy relationship they had was long gone by the time they both signed their names on the dotted line in the courthouse. Any chance they had of looking back fondly on their marriage was marred by their mutually declining mental health, and the brutal arguments that came with it. Night after night, it was always the same shit- Shane would get drunk at the bar after work and come home to his drunk wife, who's patience for him was quickly waning. With the only thing standing between his old life and this one, Shane was once again thrust into another time, another memory that he'd sought to drink away.

***

November 2016

"Shane, what the fuck is your problem?" Natalie scowled at him from her side of the bed, just woken up from Shane flipping on the lights in a drunken stupor. Her brown doe eyes were drained, empty, and underlined by dark bags. They hadn't always looked like that, but he couldn't remember a time before they did. Shane met Natalie full of life, driven, ambitious, and pulled her down to this. Drunk, exhausted, and furious. A monster of his own creation. "If you were going to come back at 3am, you should have just stayed out." Shane leaned against the wall, too drunk to stand on his own, and scowled right back.

"I don't know where you wanted me to go."

"Sleep on a park bench for all I care!" she cried. "Just please, for the love of God, stop rolling in here at all hours of the night bombed out of your mind like this."

"Oh, you want to talk about me getting bombed?" He spat back, stumbling forward. She had no right to judge him, not when they were both guilty of the same crime tonight. "How about you, Natalie? I saw the empty bottles of wine in the kitchen. I see them every night. How much did you fucking drink today?"

"This isn't about me." Her cold glare turned blood to ice in his veins. "You've been belligerently drunk like this every night for weeks. What about Jas? Don't you care about her? I can't keep dealing with this shit." Shane felt rage bubble in his chest at the complete hypocrisy of her accusation. He might have spent his nights at the bar, but Natalie sat and drank under their own roof with their daughter in the next room over.