It's been a solid four days that Joey has stayed sober…enough. He has his typical beer or two throughout the day, but that's nothing. He hasn't been to the bars or lost control of himself. I've been very happy and hopeful that he was getting so much better.

Joey went on a fishing trip with his dad today. I was glad he was out with family. For once, I didn't have a single worry about him since I figured he was in good hands. He walks in around four in the afternoon. The smell hits me first. Wet mud, and it's what he's covered in. I look at him in the doorframe, literally covered in mud. Head to toe, all in his hair and clothes.

"Joey! What happened?"

"I… fell in some mud."

"Oh…my god," I say staring at him. "Well, take your shoes off," I tell him as I see the muddy footprints on our floor. He listens and pulls off his dirty boots.

"Okay uh… let's just run the shower over you." I don't touch him, but try to lead him to the shower. Luckily, he just follows. I turn the water on and he just steps in, muddy clothes and all.

"I'll get a rag," I offer. When I come back the shower has run a lot of the mud off, but his hair and face is still pretty filthy. I wet the rag and cover it with shampoo. I start rubbing it over his head and through his hair. I carefully also go over his face. He just stands perfectly still this whole time, only closing his eyes when I come to his face. I let the water wash away the soap bubbles and then work on his hair again. I have to work out the clumps stuck in his naturally brown strands. His clothes are finally dirt free and only soaking wet now.

"Do you want to shower now?" I ask, implying I'll leave so he can really clean himself and get rid of his clothes. He looks at me, still silent as ever. He slowly nods his head no. I frown at him.

"No? You're gonna have to change your clothes anyway, so you might as well clean-" I begin, but then he just sits down on the floor of the tub. I don't know what to do. I kneel down outside the tub to get level with him.

"You okay, did something happen? How's your dad?" I ask and take the rag to his hair again. It doesn't even faze him though; he lets me clean whatever I can off him. He does eventually answer though.

"He's an ass," he tells me. My eyes widen at this.

"Your dad, why?"

"He doesn't even care, he made…a joke about mom!" he shouts angrily.

"Well, some people deal differently maybe-"

"No, she's dead and he's cracking jokes? How can he do that?" he interrupts me again.

"Joey, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. You know he must be hurting too."

"Who cares, he's just a fu-"

"Joey! Come on now, this is your dad, your mother's husband. Give him a little credit," I tell him. He looks at me, his face still plastered with disapproval.

He's being too stubborn.

"You know what, you need to shower," I firmly state.

"No," he says.

"Yes," I command him and shirt pulling at his shirt. He leans away from me and tries to grab my wrists to stop me, but I pull his shirt open before he gets a chance. I pull it off and then go for his undershirt, but he's being difficult.

"Joey! You need to shower! You're filthy and you stink. So, shower now. I'm not leaving until I see your clothes hit the ground." I stand and close the shower curtain so he can undress and do what I say. I wait and watch the closed curtain. I hear no movement, but in about a minute his other shirt hits the floor. Then his pants and socks and finally his underwear.

"Good, I'm going to clean these, scrub up well!" I call to him before picking up the wet clothes.

I think I finally realize this is the way to deal with him. It's a very sensitive situation, but Joey needs a firm hand. He needs someone to take control and help him out of the dark hole he's built for himself. He needs someone to lend him a helping hand and force him to take it or he's never getting out. So, that's what I'm going to do.

I still saw you when you weren't yourself