Page 63 of In This Moment
The house was dark, the lights out in every room including his own. His attempt at finding sleep. Because the only thing worse than waking up in the morning was staying awake all night to get there.
The blankets on his bed felt like they were strangling him. Which wouldn’t have been so bad. At least his death would be by natural causes. But since the covers were making it hard for him to breathe, Andy flung them off his legs and sat up. He needed fresh air. Something to hurry the alcohol out of his system.
Andy had no idea how many shots of whiskey he’d had tonight. Not enough to kill him. But too much to pull a full breath into his lungs. He stumbled across his bedroom floor, down the hallway and out the front door. It was just after one in the morning, his neighbors would be asleep.
Since no one was watching, Andy didn’t care that he was only wearing sweatpants and a white T-shirt. He tripped down the front steps and landed spread out on the grass. The ground smelled of wet dirt and fertilizer. He sucked in as much air as he could.
Ten minutes, fifteen. Andy had no idea how long he stayed that way, but eventually he blinked his eyes open and looked around. What was he doing out here on the front lawn? And why was he shivering? He pressed his face against the grass again. It was freezing. The yard was ice cold, that was why.
He struggled to his feet and dragged himself back in the house. His clothes were wet and covered in mud and grass stains. A wobbly walk to his bedroom and into the bathroom, where he flipped on the light and stared at himself in the mirror.
A lunatic, that’s what he was. A raving, sick-in-the-head crazy person. What sort of man would turn on his own children? He felt a rush of nausea and he barely made it to the toilet in time. Another fifteen minutes. Thirty, maybe. However long it took for the alcohol to make its way out of his body.
Once more he got to his feet and looked around. He was more sober now, more aware of his surroundings. Why couldn’t he just die? What on earth could God possibly still want with Andy Nelson? He shuffled to the sink and wiped off his face. Brushed off the grass and mud sticking to his T-shirt.
Then he made his way down the hall to Cami’s bedroom.
Andy walked to the edge of his daughter’s bed, to the collage of photos that hung on the corkboard. His head hurt and his stomach still felt queasy. But he could focus now. The streetlamp outside her window gave him just enough light to see. The pictures showed a life Cami no longer had. A life none of them had.
She was a beautiful girl. Just like her mother.
“That’s why I’m so hard on you, baby.” He reached out and touched one of the photos. “It’s enough that you look like her. But when you started reading the Bible like she did...” He shook his head.
Tears filled Andy’s eyes. Tears so foreign he almost didn’t recognize the feeling. No, he couldn’t stand to watch Cami go the way of her mother. Headed into some Christian lifestyle where she’d turn against Andy and everything she’d known before.
He wanted to save her from making the same mistakes her mother made. New anger washed over him. Of course he was justified in filing the lawsuit. Andy gripped the edge of the bed, unsteady on his feet again.
Something on her dresser caught his eye. A book or a journal. Whatever it was Cami had forgotten it when she left. When he terrified her that night. Andy used the wall to navigate his way to the object, and a few seconds later he had his answer. He was right. It was a journal.
A quick flip to the last entry and Andy squinted so he could make out the words in the dark. The date was September 6. The first week of school.
It’s been a year since I started going to the Bible study club at Hamilton and my entire life is different. I’m happy and I have peace. All the anger I felt before about my mom... it’s gone. I gave it to God and whenever I think about taking it back I just talk to Him. He’s the best friend ever. Now if there was just some way to tell my dad...
Andy dropped slowly to the edge of her bed and read the entry again and then a third time. This was how Cami felt? Like God was her best friend? And her only problem was figuring out a way to tell him?
His body began to shake and bile rose up in his throat. Was this what he was afraid of? Cami’s belief that God had become someone she could talk to? Someone who gave her joy and peace?
Fingers of regret wrapped themselves around his neck and choked the air from his throat. All of this was his fault. Why had he acted so quickly? He had no reason to call the reporter, no need to make such a mess of things. Now the whole world knew his name. Andy Nelson, the man who had sued to stop his own daughter from attending a voluntary Bible study. His actions sounded mean and controlling, even to him. Why hadn’t he seen that before?
Now he’d lost her forever.
She hadn’t been in touch once since leaving, and how could he blame her? He closed her journal and set it back on her dresser.
Andy needed the bathroom again. He rushed out of Cami’s room and barely made it to the toilet. He had nothing left to throw up but the hatred he’d allowed to fester. And that would never leave his system.
Not after what he’d done.
From his place hovering on the floor near the toilet, something else caught his attention. The tattoo on his bicep.NO GOD. As if he could just so boldly make the statement that God didn’t exist. Like by permanently saying so, he could undo the hurt his wife had caused him.
Undo the hurt he’d caused Cami and Ensley and Ellie.
Maybe if he took a small handful of pills he could go to sleep and never wake up and the world wouldn’t be the wiser. They would find him dead and assume he had died in his sleep. Natural causes. He could take the pills and then hide the bottle. Lie down on the bed and never get up again.
That way he’d never have to sit in a courtroom opposite his daughter. Never have to take the witness stand in opposition to Cami’s best friend.
God Almighty.
He could skip the whole thing if he could just pull it off. Make it look like he’d suffered a heart attack before morning light. He struggled to his feet and slid himself to the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet. Inside were half a dozen bottles. Andy looked at them one at a time. Sleeping pills. Yes, that would do the trick.
