Picking up after Bradley slipped back into his alcohol addiction after 15 years of sobriety.
After Rehab.
I hadn't seen him in six months. There wasn't a real reason behind it. At first he didn't want to see me, right, but after Gloria tried to talk to him he came to his senses and unwillingly said yes. It was just that every time I had slipped my arms into my coat after that, put on my shoes and was about to leave and go see him, I couldn't. It felt like an invisible wall trapped me inside of my home. I hadn't left it since he had been gone.
Weirdly enough it still smelled like him. I didn't know if the smell of him would ever leave. He'd touched every single piece of furniture and space of floor inside of it, I believed his smell was imbedded in this home forever.
And today he'd make sure it would come back as vibrant as ever. He'd come back and fill all of my senses with the man that I used to love. Used to. The thought graced my mind like a gentle itch I tried to ignore. I didn't know if I still loved my husband. Was he still my husband after all of this? Would he be the same person I fell in love with or did I change him? Was it my fault?
I tried not to ask myself this question but the first time I did I couldn't stop it anymore. It kept reentering my mind like a CD being played back to back in an endless loop. Was it my fault he slipped back into his old habits? Did I bring out the worst in him? Was I capable of being with him after it, without constantly feeling like the cause of all things bad?
I didn't know how much time had passed since I'd entered the living room but by the time I came back to reality and tried to sit down it felt like my legs just weakly gave out under me. I sunk into the sofa and let out a heavy breath.
He'd almost stopped breathing. The last time I saw him could've been the time he took his last breath. He pushed through, but I didn't know why. Why did he survive? How did he manage to push through this while I was falling apart at the mere thought of it? What gave him the strength to keep going like this?
I was so deep in thought I barely heard the knock on the door. It took another knock to rip me out of my trance and I slowly wiped my hands on my jeans before I reached out to touch the door knob. It felt cold and electric against my skin, almost as if it didn't want to be opened. I could hear him shuffle on the other side of the door.
I wasn't ready to see him but at the same time I couldn't wait any longer. I took a deep breath and swung the door open so quickly, it even startled me.
And there he was.
His hair had gotten longer, it made him look like a little rockstar. His eyes were a vibrant ocean blue color and the smile on his lips managed to captivate me in a way nothing else could ever do. I slowly wrapped my arms around his torso while his encircled my waist. I pressed my cheek against his chest and his smell immediately calmed me down. I didn't want to close my eyes or let him go again. I was afraid this would end up being another one of my scarily real feeling dreams.
I felt the leather material of his jacket underneath my finger tips and grabbed it tighter into my palms. It felt cold because it was the middle of November and I only then let go of him to let him inside into the warm comfort of our home.
My hands never left his body, I needed to touch him constantly. He seemed to feel the same way as his hand rested on my back. His thumb drew small circles on it.
"I missed you." I finally got out and those three simple words managed to break me. I came down in a thunderstorm, sobbing, crying, shaking. He wrapped his arms around me again and I felt him place his lips on my head, leaving them there for a bit longer.
"You never came to visit me." He managed to get out after a while. I could feel the awful distance between us and I knew I'd created it. I let him doubt us. I had pushed him away, without even noticing it.
"I know." I said. I finally gathered up the courage to look into his eyes. "I know." I repeated.
"Why?" He asked again. It was sharp and I could feel every ounce of hurt pour out of his soul in those three little letters. They even hurt me.
"I couldn't." I croaked out. I saw him trying to analyze my face, as if the answer to all of his questions was embedded in my skin. Bradley's hands left my body for the first time since he got back and I immediately felt cold. I didn't know how much I had missed his touch until I felt it again.
"I hurt you." He said, fiddling with his fingers before he looked at me again. "You hurt me too." He finished.
"I know." I said again.
"If you know then why didn't you visit me? I needed you, Stef." He said and I felt my own tears well up in my eyes. He looked so hurt and fragile, just like me when I found him.
I found him.
"You don't know what I've been through, Bradley! I watched you ruin yourself and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't save you. I watched you kill yourself! You drank yourself into a damn coma while I wasn't home; I found you laying on this damn carpet!" I started yelling, finally getting the frustration out there. It felt good to finally let go of the built up emotions. I pointed my finger to the carpet, right where I found him passed out just 6 months ago. His body had been sweaty and he didn't respond to anything when I called 911. I held him against my body, I had my palm pressed against his chest to feel his fast heartbeat against it so I wouldn't lose him.
My little outburst silenced him. His eyes followed where my finger pointed at as he stared at the beige carpet. "I am so sorry, Stef."
"Sorry can't fix it." I spat, sounding a lot more hurtful than I intended to.
"I can't lose you." He added, stepping closer to me.
I took a step back. I didn't look at him as the last few months started replaying inside of my brain. "You already did."
I didn't mean for this to become a 5 part series when I first had the idea for this, but then I felt the need to write more and more and switch into Bradley's point of view as well and it just happened! I hope you'll stick around to read it.