Page 150 of Blackout-

The truth is, I never blamed myself for Lacey’s illness. I know her illness is out of my hands. Hell, it’s out of hers. She can take pills but there might be times when she can’t, like now and they may not always work. One day she may end up like her father and be forced to try new drugs, hoping one of them keeps her sane.

If anything, that’s opened my eyes a bit. It’s made me realize I can control what’s wrong with me. I wake up every day fortunate enough to have a choice. I can either be a man I’m proud of or a fucking junkie. I can kiss the stigma of addiction goodbye, give it a big fat fuck you, but my wife can never do that to her maker.

“Yeah, a couple of months ago, I probably would’ve used this shit as an excuse to get high. I was in a bad place and thought wrecking myself was the answer to everything.”

“And now?”

“Now, I just want to be there for my wife. Do I hate myself? A little but not for the reasons you think. I hate that I ever gave her maker the opportunity to let her think any of my problems were her fault or that she was an addiction herself. Logically, I know no one can control what she believes in her mind. But if I hadn’t been so weak to allow my addictions overrule me, her mind might not have betrayed her into thinking I wasn’t capable of loving her sober.”

“You keep mentioning her maker. I assume that’s another name for her illness?”

I look at her quietly for a moment, recalling how the term maker came to be. I wonder if Jack knew when he was naming his illness, he was also naming a great villain that would carry from his story to ours.

“When Jack first was diagnosed as a manic depressive he adapted a name for it. You see, according to him, most people believe in some sort of god. The great creator of all things. Heaven and Earth. Possibly even Hell. But for Jack, his mind is his maker. She creates all the stories inside his head, all the lies and to him, she is his Lord. I guess it makes sense, or it did at the time because it stuck.”

“Wow,” Sunny murmurs. “I can see the parallel.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to be crazy to speak the language. I’m fluent in it myself.”

Saying that makes me realize how much Lacey educated herself to understand my disease. Part of me wonders if being an addict is what pushed her hand to become a drug counselor. I used to think it was her passion for helping others that drove her quest but the more I think about all the times she saw me through the dark, every relapse and how she tried to make me see myself as more than an addict, well, I’m more inclined to think it was her just trying to find a way from saving me from myself. I wish I knew then what I know now. I’d tell her the only one who can save me, is me. Actually, that was part of what I would’ve told her today when I made amends, but her world came crashing down before I could.

“You know,” Sunny begins, interrupting my thoughts. “I think the both of you are remarkable humans. For two people who have suffered through so much pain, you never give up.”

“Oh, we give up,” I mutter.

“There’s a difference between giving up and asking for help, Dominic. When you came here you didn’t give up, you gave in to yourself. You admitted you had a problem and instead of letting it get worse, you sought treatment.”

“I was mandated to rehab, Sunny,” I remind her. “The choice wasn’t mine.”

“Wasn’t it, though? Do you know how many people are mandated to rehab and do shit when they’re in here? Okay, so you were a bit of jerk when you first got here.”

“I fucked up your aura, didn’t I?”

“Sent it to Hell in a handbasket,” she agrees. “But then something changed. You changed. You put yourself first and I think Lacey needs to do that too. I’m not a psychiatrist and I won’t pretend that I am but from what you’ve shared with me, it sounds like she’s spent some time being your life coach. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t ask her to take on that role, it’s just part of who she is. Like it’s in her nature to put that baby she’s carrying before herself, she chose to put you before her too.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“Okay, oh wise one, if you’re always right, tell me what I do now because sitting here while she suffers through a blackout isn’t cutting it.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like you’re doing anything but sitting by the phone…”

Eyeing the phone, I raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, so maybe you are sitting by the phone…”

“Exactly,” I grunt. “Fuck this,” I add, lifting the phone. Before Sunny can try to stop me from making the call, I punch in Jack’s number. On the third ring, his voice sounds and relief instantly floods me.

“Black,” he says, defeat heavy in his tone.

“How is she?”

“Reina called Dr. Spiegel on the way home and she made us meet her at the hospital.”

“The hospital?”

“Black, it’s bad. They admitted her. Spiegel is going to do a psych evaluation tomorrow and then, I think the plan is to call in the OBGYN—”

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