I keep as close of an eye as I can on Rick, watching to see how he acts, how he was taking Richard's death. I worried that his drug and alcohol use would increase, but I was relieved that he didn't show up at my apartment blind drunk again. I hated to send him home in that condition, but he had to return home to Elizabeth. I was terrified he was going to crash his car and hurt himself but somehow, he made it home.
It's been almost two months since Richard died and tonight was my birthday but I hadn't given it much thought, I'd been too busy at the hospital. A carload of drunk teenagers had crashed into a tree and resulting in one death and a lot of bloodied victims who barely knew what happened.
What a waste, I thought, a bunch of stupid teenagers almost losing their lives because of alcohol. Teens shouldn't drink until they're at least 18, preferably 21. You're never too old to be stupid about alcohol.
Bill had come in to check on a patient and had asked me to dinner. I wanted to say no because Rick was back, but he was clever enough to coax me into accepting. I knew I had no good reason to refuse, though he never mentioned it, Rick did not seem to object to my seeing someone although I'm not sure if sex was on the agenda, he would be so amenable. I told Bill "yes" hoping that dinner was all that he had in mind. If an uncomfortable situation came up, I'd deal with it.
I was trying to decide if I would just sleep on my sofa or if I'd go to bed when I heard the downstairs door open and close, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs, footsteps I knew well. I sat up and watched as Rick bounced into the room, smiling and carrying a package.
"Happy birthday, naughty nurse," he said then froze when he saw the blood on my uniform. He stood there, dumbstruck, I don't think he'd ever seen bloodstains like that before. "Holy shit," he swore, "What the hell happened, baby?"
"Bad accident, drunk teenage driving never turns out well. I'd like to forget this night happened, maybe I should go back to being a telephone operator."
He set the package down and came and sat next to me. He put his arms around me and held me, rocking me gently. "I'm sorry," he said in his baby-soft voice, "Was it very bad?" I nodded and he tightened his hold, "This shouldn't happen on anyone's birthday." I can't argue with that.
"Here," he said, "Open this, happy birthday."
The days of the expensive presents are over, but he always gives me something nice. This time it's a little cat statuette modeled like the statue of Bastet that the Smithsonian sells. This one is more whimsical; it's painted and the cat has a flirtatious smile on her face.
"A little something for your witchy-woo," his name for my altar. He doesn't know how to take my witchcraft so he teases me, accusing me of casting a spell on him. "It wasn't no spell that got you," is my standard reply and it's true. I was the one who fell under his spell the moment I saw him. If I were smart, I'd cast a spell on him to make him go away and leave me alone for good.
He's looking at me, his face suddenly serious and I ask him what's going on. He can't hide much from me so he doesn't try.
"We're going back on the road; we have a show on the sixteenth in Connecticut to see how the new band works out." He looks at me, waiting for my reaction.
I drew in a breath, then let it out and sank back against the sofa. "So soon?" I ask, knowing if it's not too soon and they need to get back on the road. They need the money and can't afford to take any more time off even though I think they should. Rick has a farm, kids, and Elizabeth to support, not to mention a heroin habit. Levon has a wife and daughter, Garth and Maud need money to live on. Not touring is not a choice, but I think it's too soon.
I want to say, "can't you wait?" But I know better. They need to get out and play, part of me thinks it's too soon, but I know it's not a bad idea. It's not too soon, they need the money, but even more, they need to be on stage again. I stand up and put little Bast-et on my altar. "I could kill Richard for doing this, you know? Couldn't he at least have waited until you had a break in the tour?"
"I'm sure it was just an accident..." he starts to say but I turn around to face him.
"No Rick, it wasn't, he didn't accidentally tie his belt to the shower rod and put his neck in a loop and sit down. That wasn't an accident. You guys, couldn't you see how bad he had gotten? Why didn't you insist that he get help? You could have toured without him for a short time until he got the go-ahead from his counselor to rejoin the band. He could have found AA and NA meetings to attend on the road. It would have been doable, and it might have saved him. You guys and your musician machismo..."
I can't go on because I've started to cry and he comes and puts his arm around me. "It's okay," he whispers, "I know how much you cared about him. Poor little Dacy, you're always trying to fix things that can't be fixed. I know you wanted to fix Richard but he's gone; we have to go on without him, we've got to make a living, he wouldn't want us to stop."
"Maybe he was trying to stop you," I don't say it out loud but I'm thinking it. Suicide can be an act of anger. Richard was a nice guy but a very fucked up person. Alcoholics are into instant gratification, and things weren't progressing fast enough for him. He couldn't handle the ups and downs, he expected instant success—and money. He'd cleaned up but he relapsed and it seemed to me he'd gotten worse. And his new wife hadn't helped things, if he had gotten sober, would she have been willing to support him or would she have dragged him back down in the gutter with her?
"Snap out of it, Dacy, you think too much." He scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom and removed my bloody uniform, "Don't wash this uniform, get rid of it, you can afford a new one," he drops it on the floor, "I'm going to arrange for you to spend a couple of days with us, you need to get away." He removes his clothes and pulls me close, "Now isn't this better?"
It's better, it's so much better. The world and its problems fall away when he holds me. I forget about Richard, I forget about Elizabeth, I forget about Bill, there is only Rick and his rough lovemaking. I even forget that sometimes I wish he'd go away.
When we finish, he looks at the clock and realizes that he's stayed longer than he intended. He ruffles my hair, "Why you did let me stay so long?" he teases as if I had anything to do with it. He throws off the covers and gets up, stretching out his back, and goes into the bathroom to take a shower.
I watch him get dressed, trying to find the right words for what I'm going to say. "Rick?"
"Yes?" he asks as he pulls on his jeans.
"Be careful, I worry about you. The drugs, the alcohol, I'm afraid that one day your body won't be able to handle it. I'm afraid you'll be lucky if you see sixty."
He comes over to the bed and sits next to me. "Where did that come from, Dacy? I'm not Richard, I'm stronger than him."
No, he's not. His heroin habit is proof that he's not. "I know, I'm just scared of losing you. The way you live scares me and Richard's death made it worse."
"Don't worry about me, that's not your job, it's my job to worry about you. I'm afraid that something could happen to you, too, don't you know that?"
Yes, I know that, but I don't drink the way you do, and I don't have your heroin habit. You think you can handle it but it's handling you. You think that I don't know that it's as bad as it is but I do.
You chose Elizabeth over me because she doesn't challenge you and I do. She's happy to sit back and be your housewife but I want something more. I'm proud that I earned my nursing degree and I'm doing something useful with my life.
I don't know why Elizabeth puts up with the heroin, I wouldn't and I wouldn't follow you into it. I'm angry that she doesn't try to do something about it.
It's been almost ten years and you still come around. You keep me close to you, so close that there's barely room for anyone else. You stayed away for three years but you never completely stayed away, it may have taken Richard dying, but you came back and it's like you never left.
I don't say any of this to him, I never will. I don't know why he's with me, cheap sex is easy to find so I know it's not that. Something ties us to each other and he's not going anywhere, not unless I send him away and I'm not strong enough for that.