Maybe I did.
Maybe I did want our old life back.
I didn’t know. Didn’t know.
Where was I going? What had I been doing for the last couple of years?
I had changed my entire life so that I could be sober. So I could be a good mother. A good person.
Yet everything was the same: except the details.
Except the f*****g details. I wasn’t drinking. But I was doing everything else to keep the rage down.
And why? Why? It hadn’t done any good! Fern was f*****g up her life, and she had f****d up mine by blabbing to Irving Jackson. Now Mark, my stalwart man, was cheating on me with the manager of his restaurant. The restaurant that was situated in my building. How messy was this going to be?
Christ. What now? What now?
Don’t cry for me, Argentina.
I could go f**k Ryan Nichols. Yes, that was i
