Whatever people were saying about Jack, he could still surprise her. He had shown up on Easter Sunday morning, waiting for them in front of the church. He had cleaned up nicely, wearing his blue suit and a tie she had given him for his birthday that year.
"Daddy!"
"Daddy's here!"
The voices of two happy children who had let go of her hands and thrown themselves at their father who tried to pick them up both at once. Sharon still remembered the joyful laughter and how her heart had made a little jump. This was how she had always imagined her life with Jack. Going to church with their children, eating a family roast around the dining table, watching as their children were roaming the garden in search for their Easter nests.
They had sat together in church, Emily and Ricky between them and during the prayers they had snuck the occasional glance at each other. Sharon remembered the rather impure thoughts she had had when her husband looked at her like that. She remembered the clarity of Jack's eyes and the smell of his aftershave that had assaulted her as she pressed a kiss on his cheek in greeting. Aftershave. Nothing else. No alcohol. Easter Sunday, lighting their candles on the large Easter candle in the front of the church, whispering 'He is risen' and 'He is risen indeed' and the newly ignited hope in her heart that Jack had also risen from his own hell of addiction.
He had kissed her once they were outside, softly and tentatively and she had looked for the distinctive taste and had found none. Jack had surprised her that day, having even remembered to bring some chocolate eggs to hide.
Only when the children came back with their bounty had Sharon noticed that they were filled with liquor. Liquor! For her precious children. Children. Eight year old Emily and five year old Ricky.
She had been furious, but had told the children that surely these eggs must have been meant for their parents, secretly grateful she had gotten more appropriate sugary treats for them. That night, Emily and Ricky fast asleep after Jack had read them a story, she had confronted him on his irresponsibility. He had given her one look, grabbed one of the eggs, eggnog, she would never forget, and eaten it in front of her. To this day it seemed like she had actually heard her heart break.
The next time she had heard from him had been Christmas, a drunken phonecall in the middle of the night demanding to speak to his children. But they were her children now and he no longer had any place in their lives. He no longer had the power to make her cry.