“James!” shouted Laura. “This is it! This is life. This is marriage. This is what we signed up for!”
It was the spring of 2007. We were both thirty-five-years-old. Laura had taken a break from her career as an opera singer to try to have a baby with me. We had bought a house in one of the newer additions on the north side of Norman with a family in mind; three bedrooms.
I stumbled and fell back onto the couch. I was drunk as I had been every night for the last year.
“Look at you. Don’t you think that I’m upset, too? How many years do you think I’ve dreamed of having a baby?” she said.
“We shouldn’t have waited so long,” I said. “We should have done it right away.”
“Oh, and what about my career? I go straight from college to babies?”
“I’m just saying people who wait have a harder time.”
Amy and I arrived at Sears Fine Foods before Kyra and ordered a basket of calamari.
“So this is like octopus?” she said when it arrived.
She grimaced and said, “Are they like…tentacles?”
“Yes, but taste one. It’s delicious. Here,” I said, squeezing lemon juice over the calamari and grabbing one. It was crisp and steaming hot. “Dip it in the marinara sauce like this,” I said, dipping and stuffing it hungrily into my mouth. “Oh my God, that is really good.”
She made a yucky face but picked out a small piece, dipped it, looked at it for a moment, then nibbled it. Her face changed into a hopeful raise of the eyebrows, and she popped the rest into her mouth. “That shit’s pretty good,” she said after swallowing and grabbing for another.
“Are you drunk?” said Laura back at my apartment.
“I just had a few drinks with your parents,” I said, speech slurred.
“My parents? As in my dad and my mom?” she said.
“It’s no big deal, babe. I told your parents, and it went ok—for the most part.”
“What do you mean for the most part?” she asked, pacing my living room.
“Well, you were right about your dad. Calling him Frank changed everything. He was cool about it all, and it was his idea to drink, not mine,” I said.
“And my mom? She actually had a drink?”
“Yes, but lemme finish. She was upset at first, ya know? ‘What do you know about being a husband and all,’ she said. But I stood up to her. I told her how I really feel about you and that I will support you and that I’ll get a good job and that we’ll wait until we graduate.”
“Wait, what? You said, we would wait until we graduate?” she said, still agitated.
I was standing outside the church, smoking a cigarette, and once again, George showed up in his sweatshirt and jeans. I felt a surge of gratitude for him. Knowing I could call him had kept me sober for these few days. As he shook my hand, he looked me steadily in the eye with his grey-blue eyes as if he had nothing to hide. I had to look away.
“How are you coming along?” he said.
“Actually, I feel pretty good. Staying sober.”
“That’s great, James. A lot of guys feel good right off the bat…for a little while at least. This is not the time to let your guard down. This is a devil of a disease, something you must take one day at a time.”
“To be honest, I’m not even sure I have a problem. I feel like this should be harder.”
“You’re really the only one who can answer that, but can I ask you something? What made you come to the meeting yesterday?”