Day Twenty-Seven
I never really noticed until it was too late. I never seemed to think that he was especially sly, or sneaky, but he hid this incredibly well. You never would have guessed that Chandler was an alcoholic.
There weren't bottles lying all around the apartment. There was never the smell of alcohol on his breath. He kept one bottle of vodka tucked behind the night stand, and a flask in his briefcase. He mixed the vodka with whatever he was drinking, or just drank it straight from the bottle. But I never saw it. I know that there was no way I would have noticed, but I just wish I had. I just wish I had known.
I still don't understand why he needed to drink. He was happy. I thought I made him happy. 'Depressed' was never a word used to describe Chandler. Everyone knows that his humor was used as a cover up for actual problems, but you'd never think that he's really, seriously hurting inside. And what could be hurting him so bad that he can't even tell me? He couldn't tell me what was wrong, and he couldn't confess as to what he was doing to fix what was wrong. We always told each other everything. I always told him everything. He told me everything except for one thing. He should have told me.
Then one day he took my Porsche out to run errands. He was gone for much longer than I expected. A few hours later, I got a phone call. Some woman told me to come to the hospital, that my husband was in a car accident and was in the there. He had some head injuries, and a few broken ribs. I didn't know then that he was the cause of the accident. I didn't find out what happened until I got there. Chandler was driving and started to swerve into oncoming traffic. He drifted across the line and hit an SUV head on. It was until he was forced to that he came clean with me. He'd been drunk and tried to drive home anyway.
The police told me that his blood alcohol level was nearly 3 times the legal limit and Chandler was given a few tickets. He was also charged with reckless endangerment. He went to court and was sentenced to a 28 day stint in a rehab facility. He promised that he would get clean. That he would stop drinking. God, I hope he stops. He needs to stop. I need him to stop.
Chandler told me that I was never the cause of his drinking. He said that I never did anything that would make him drink. I wish I just knew. I just wish that one day, he'll be able to tell me what drove him to alcoholism. Today is day 27, and I still don't know the reason for him drinking. I've come to the conclusion that I'll never be able to find out. If I can make it through 27 days or uncertainty, I suppose I can make it through a few more.