One

1975

The joint's a dive, just me and a couple of the other regular drunks propping up the bar, Johnny Cash blaring out of the jukebox that no one but the barman ever puts any change into. But the upside of being in a place like this is no one gives a shit about trying to make any small talk, not when we're all here trying to drown ourselves in the bottom of a bottle.

The door creaks open, the icy November breeze biting through the thin cotton of my shirt until it bangs shut again. I keep my head down, elbows resting against the dark wood as I stub out my cigarette in the tin ashtray.

'You think you've had enough for tonight, Tim?' Curly asks as he sinks down on to the bar stool next to me, then stretches out a hand and picks up the bottle of Jack from in front of me, tilts it a little as he attempts to assess exactly how much booze I've sunk so far tonight.

I snatch it back and top up my glass, sending half of it sloshing across the surface of the bar as my hand shakes. 'Nope.'

'You getting hammered every damn night won't make it better.'

I sip at my drink, not turning to look at him, watching his distorted reflection in the Lone Star mirror hanging on the wall behind the bar. 'Can't make it any worse, either.'

'When did you last eat?'

I shrug. When did I last eat? Not today, that's for sure. My stomach growls a little. Not yesterday either. Tuesday maybe? Hard to say when all the days roll into one fucking giant nightmare. 'I ain't hungry.'

'Well what about sleep?' Curly looks me up and down, frowning at my wrinkled shirt and filthy jeans. 'You look like shit.'

I let out a low laugh. How can I sleep when I can't shut it out? Not unless I'm falling-down, passing out blind-drunk anyway, and I'm nowhere near that far gone tonight. Not yet. 'I'm fine, Curly. Don't need you checking up on me. So why don't you just go home?'

My brother sighs, bites at his bottom lip. 'The kids have been asking after you, don't understand why you're not there. Tony's constantly asking when you'll be coming back, Gracie's missing you something fierce too.'

'They're better off with you and Claire.'

'Come on, Tim. I know you're hurting like all hell, but so are they. They've just lost their mom for Christ's sake. You need to suck it up, pull yourself together and be there for them.'

'If it's too much bother for you to look after them any more then take them to Ange. Or ask Sylv, she'll do it.'

'Christ, it ain't that. You know we love them, that they can stay with us as long as you need. But don't you think it's hard enough for them as it is, without you disappearing on them too? You remember how shit it was for us, after dad? Ma being so wrapped up in herself? So don't do that to them, they deserve better than that. They need some stability 'cause right now it's like their whole world has fallen apart.'

'Their whole world? What about mine?' I spit the words at him like a petulant child as I swallow down the hard lump growing in my throat and ignore the pricking in my eyes as hot tears spill uninvited and unwelcome onto my cheeks. 'How am I meant to do this without her?'

Curly rests a hand on my shoulder but I shrug him away. I don't need his comfort. Don't fucking deserve it, either.

'Shit, Tim. I know it's been horrendous. That you're fucking devastated. Hell, we all are. And I know it ain't fair and you shouldn't have to be dealing with this. But it's not their fault either. They need their father.'

I turn the glass in my hands, knock back the contents in one, my throat burning as the alcohol hits, a half-second of respite from the pain that's searing into every other fibre of my being. Reaching for the bottle again, I lose my balance, stumbling sideways off the stool and sending my glass shattering into a thousand tiny glittering shards against the black and white chequerboard floor tiles.

'Fuck's sake!' I sniff, dragging a hand across my face, smearing tears and snot over my skin.

The guy sat further along the bar shakes his head as his mouth twists into a smirk. 'Fucking lightweight,' he mutters just loud enough for me to hear.

Lunging towards him, I grab at the front of his shirt, twisting the plaid as I shove him backwards. 'The hell you looking at, asshole?'

He straightens up, jutting his chin towards me as he laughs in my face.

My left hand balls into a fist at my side, but before I can swing at him Curly grabs my arm, dragging me away, his fingers digging into my flesh. 'Come on, buddy, let's get you home.' Digging in his jeans pocket with his other hand, my brother drops a crumpled twenty down on the bar before steering me away and out of the door.

'Come on, get in.' Curly jerks his head towards the inside of his truck as he pulls the passenger door open. 'Please, Tim. Let's get you sobered up then in morning you can see the kids, spend some time with them.'

'No.' I step back, slumping down on the concrete of the sidewalk. 'How can I go back and pretend that everything's going to be alright? They're better off without me. You all are. If it wasn't for me they'd still have their mom.'

'Christ, Tim, it was an accident.' Curly holds out his hand to me, pulls me back to my feet. 'Cops said so.'

'No, Curly. What happened was no accident. We both know it should've been me.'

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