Emerald Bay
A woman's struggle with addiction threatens to shatter her marriage and her grip on reality.
Mary woke up from her night of drinking and walked over to their bathroom as if nothing had happened. Daniel was shaving and getting dressed for work. He was angry at her. Lately, it seemed he was always angry at her.
She knew he didn't want her to come to the bathroom and start talking to him. He continued to shave, staring at the mirror and ignoring her. After all these years, she was alone and wanted him to be there for her.
"Good morning," she mumbled, trying to break the silence.
Daniel grunted in response, not looking her way. Mary lingered in the doorway, her presence a silent plea for attention.
"Daniel, can we talk?"
He paused, razor hovering over his chin. "About what? Your drinking? We've been through this before."
"I know, I just miss us. Don't you?"
Daniel's unreadable eyes met hers in the mirror.
He headed to the garage, and she followed, hoping he would turn around and look back. Maybe she could sense some caring emanating from him. He left without kissing her. She watched his car pull out of the garage and wondered if he would meet his mistress.
Daniel gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove, his knuckles turning white. He couldn't bear to watch her spiral again. He loved her, but he was helpless, angry, and exhausted. As he approached his office, he took a deep breath, trying to push the image of Mary's pleading eyes out of his mind.
Mary decided she needed another drink. One little taste that would send her into oblivion. She scavenged the house, looking in every cupboard, every nook and cranny. She would've had better luck finding a dead pet she'd forgotten to feed than finding alcohol.
As she rummaged through the cupboards, each empty space was like a punch to her gut. "Where is it?" she muttered, her hands trembling.
The garage. There had to be some left in the garage.
She remembered the bookshelf in the garage and how she had once hidden a bottle for times of need. Times like now, times like always.
She found the bottle of Grey Goose hidden under a stack of old books, manuscripts, and letters.
“After careful consideration by our editors, we regret to inform you that we must decline this submission.”
She shook her head, trying to erase that memory. She took the bottle and headed to her favorite spot in the house—her La-Z-Boy recliner chair—the one she thought hideous and begged Daniel not to buy.
The thought of not purchasing the chair now seemed absurd. She guzzled the drink as if it were the last water bottle in the desert and started to doze off. There was no pain in a stupor where life was happy and secure.
The sun was already gone, and the living room was dark when Mary came to. She had been lying on the recliner chair for a long time.
The clock read 9:00 pm. There were no signs of Daniel. She grabbed her phone; it was dead.
She'd forgotten to charge it. Maybe she needed a new phone, one with a longer-lasting battery. She placed the phone on the wireless charging pad and headed to the bathroom.
Her head pounded with a sharp pain just behind her right eye. The room swam before her, forcing her to grip the edge of the sink for balance. She struggled to open a bottle of pills. Damn, child-proof cap! Her hands shook so severely that she needed to concentrate to open the bottle.
She decided to draw a warm bath. She would look nice, put on a lovely dress and some makeup. Maybe she could cook a meal. That would make Daniel happy. She could make him happy again. She knew she could, couldn’t she?
She looked at herself in the mirror as she turned the water on and started to undress. She couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at herself in the mirror. She had lost so much weight.
Her abdomen was flat but flabby. Her hair was grayer than she remembered, and her long, luscious curls that once fell on her shoulders were now thinning and lackluster. She was only forty-eight. She wondered how old Daniel’s mistress was and if he was with her now.
The pain in her head started to subside. She opened a drawer to get a scrunchie for her hair and found a picture she had taken of Daniel on their last trip to Tahoe. Memories of that trip inundated her mind. The car ride, the songs they sang, the pictures they took on the way there. They stopped at a cemetery in Tonopah, where they found memories of lost love and the grief of the ones left behind.
She remembered thinking how she could never imagine a world without Daniel and how, as selfish as it was, she’d rather die first than be the one bringing flowers to his grave.
Every day in Tahoe was like a honeymoon. They would cook breakfast together, feed the birds, sit by the patio, and spend the afternoons sightseeing around Emerald Bay, taking in the fresh air of the mountains. It was early fall, and the leaves had not changed yet. The air was crispy enough—such a change from L.A.
Mary was sure that Daniel loved her then. She felt it. Daniel smiled a lot and was affectionate and attentive. They made love daily and ate dinner at Hell’s Kitchen every night. The wine! Napa wine. She remembered that. Life was simpler back then… or maybe not.
She remembered the censoring looks on people’s faces at the restaurant when she spoke a little louder and danced a little harder. Daniel apologized, asked for the check, and ushered her out.
The brief look of disappointment on his face.
By the time the mirror was foggy, the bathtub was nearly full. She looked at the water momentarily as if weighing in her alternatives—there were none.
She stepped into the bathtub. The water was so hot it nearly scorched her skin. She eased in until most of her body was submerged in water. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore. The pain in her head was gone now. Her thoughts were getting clearer—she knew what she had to do.
She did it swiftly, decisively, hoping for an end. She thought she heard the door opening. Could it be Daniel?
She ran over all the explanations she would give him if he had just walked in and found her, but he never did.
She stared at the red water for a long time. Red, red, red.
“Would you like some more red wine, hun?” Daniel asked absently as he poured her another glass. The music was loud, and she could hear the commotion as Ramsay came out to meet the guests. She raised her hand and pushed the wine glass aside.
“I think I’ve had enough.”
Daniel smiled at her as they waited to meet the chef.