Like Real People Do

36. Suckers Prayer

TW: Substance Abuse (Alcoholism)

I wanna love somebody but I don't know how. I've been so long lonely and it's getting me down. I wanna throw my body in the river and drown. I want to love somebody but I don't know how. -The Decemberists

Friday, September 10th

Rhiannon wasn't a smoker.

At least, not that Shane thought. Before Monday, only twice had Rhiannon and cigarette smoke ever occupied the same place in his head. The first when she came to his rescue the night he received the divorce papers from Natalie, the second when a cigarette hung from her mouth the night she fell into the lake. Both times only had one thing in common, and the pattern held true for the third. She told him it was just a smoke to clear her head on that late June night with the edges of her floral tattoos poking out from underneath his old soccer hoodie. If that was the case, what had she been trying to exorcise in broad daylight on Monday with the pile of smokes laid at her feet?

It wasn't outrageous to think that she might still be reeling from everything that happened with Agnes and her rotten mother, but he hadn't exactly been the picture of emotional support since then. He wanted to be there for her, but all he had to offer was a dark cloud. Rhiannon had enough to carry, and she would snatch up his baggage as well the second she caught a whiff of it. He needed to keep his bullshit and his lies as far away from her as possible. That was the only way he could be helpful to her right now. She was too fragile, and he was too clumsy.

Worse yet, the storm clouds above his head were only growing darker. In the past week, Natalie called again. And again. And again. And he ignored her.

Again.

He missed today's call while he was at work and felt the craving for liquor burning on his lips and tongue the moment he saw it. There was nowhere to point fingers except the mirror. It was his own fault for putting her off for so long. She was anxious to be free of him and rightfully so, but he still hadn't found the strength to end it. Shane was so ready the night he told Rhiannon that he loved her to sign on that dotted line, but after seeing her implode, he panicked. The best version of himself existed only with her, and after only a few days without, he felt so much weaker for it.

Dropping Rhiannon's dinner off then retreating to his own home today wouldn't be enough to keep the demons away. Natalie was a powder keg just waiting for the right time to explode, and now he was willingly bringing that destruction to Rhiannon's doorstep. As if she didn't already have enough shit to clean up. Even if staying away from her was the right thing to do, it was still so much more fucking difficult than letting himself indulge in her.

Shane climbed the steps of her porch, clutching today's dinner in his hands. He couldn't support her emotionally, but he could at least make sure she ate something. Rhiannon was a vice he needed to leave behind because he was destroying her, but he couldn't disappear entirely or else she would destroy herself. The pickings at Jojamart were slim, but the soup of the day looked edible enough. With a deep breath for confidence, he knocked on her door and took a step back to wait for her. She appeared quickly, looking more disheveled than usual. Normally, Rhiannon's casually groomed appearance was part of her charm, but it was different today. Worse. Her eyes were heavy, and her hair was carelessly yanked back into a messy ponytail.

"Thank you," she said without looking up at him. It was a routine they'd both gotten used to over the past week, and it took something out of him every time. He shouldn't invite himself in. He knew that. He had nothing of value to offer besides the meal that was already in her hands. Rhiannon was better off if he kept to the routine and left her be, but the desire to drink called louder than his better judgement.