All Night Long
Chapter Five: Page Two
Again, he hesitated, this time long enough to make him
think he wasn't going to share his personal, private
reasons for avoiding liquor, which left him to come to
his own conclusions. "Are you a recovering alcoholic?"
he asked, without censure.
"No, I'm not." His reply was quick, followed by a sigh
that unraveled out of him, releasing a bit of the
tension lacing his voice. "My father was a heavy
drinker, and I saw what it did to my mother, and our
family."
When he hesitated, he prompted him further. "Tell me
more about your dad."
He cleared his throat. "My father worked for a steel
mill, and for as long as I could remember he spent most
of his time off at the local bar instead of at home. My
mother didn't work, and we didn't have a lot of money to
begin with, and a good chunk of the money he made went
to booze instead of groceries."
Listening quietly, attentively, he rubbed his instep
over his arch and used his toes to slip and slide in
between his - maintaining a physical contact with him
to keep him from withdrawing emotionally.
His strategy seemed to work, because he continued. "I
was an only child, and growing up I watched my father's
health deteriorate, along with his marriage to my
mother. But despite the way he treated her, she stayed
with him until the very end. He died of chronic liver
disease when I was sixteen, and after that my mother
fell into a deep depression, ignoring everything and
everyone around her, including me, and she died two
years later. It was as if she'd been so dependent on my
father she didn't know how to live without him."
The sadness in his voice tore at him. As did the fact
that he'd been alone and on his own for so long that
he didn't realize what he was missing. "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for. Both of my parents
chose their own fates." He heard his teeth click against
his glass as he took a drink, his toes absently playing
with his beneath the water. "Their choices made me
realize that it was up to me to make a difference in my
own life, to make something of myself and never depend
on a man the way my mother did."
Which explained his drive and desire to be successful
and self-sufficient. He was scared of falling into the
same trap as his mother. He admired his strength and
fortitude, but knew that while money and independence
might bring him the security he craved, the solitude in
which he lived wouldn't provide ultimate happiness.
Didn't he know he could have it all, a successful job
and a committed relationship, and not sacrifice anything
that would compromise his own personal values?
Apparently not, and he realized it was up to him to show
him differently if he wanted more than one night with
him.
Knowing it was past time to change the direction of
their current conversation, he set his empty glass away
from the hot tub and blindly stretched out his arm. He
found his damp shoulder and used his fingers to draw
squiggly patterns on his wet skin that caused him to
shiver. "So, what's it like out here?"
"The view is incredible," he said, his tone awed, as
well as grateful for the switch in topic. "The city
below is all lit up, and the stars above make it look
like there are a thousand diamonds twinkling up in the
sky. I've never seen anything quite like it before."
NEXT
Chapter Five: Page Two
Again, he hesitated, this time long enough to make him
think he wasn't going to share his personal, private
reasons for avoiding liquor, which left him to come to
his own conclusions. "Are you a recovering alcoholic?"
he asked, without censure.
"No, I'm not." His reply was quick, followed by a sigh
that unraveled out of him, releasing a bit of the
tension lacing his voice. "My father was a heavy
drinker, and I saw what it did to my mother, and our
family."
When he hesitated, he prompted him further. "Tell me
more about your dad."
He cleared his throat. "My father worked for a steel
mill, and for as long as I could remember he spent most
of his time off at the local bar instead of at home. My
mother didn't work, and we didn't have a lot of money to
begin with, and a good chunk of the money he made went
to booze instead of groceries."
Listening quietly, attentively, he rubbed his instep
over his arch and used his toes to slip and slide in
between his - maintaining a physical contact with him
to keep him from withdrawing emotionally.
His strategy seemed to work, because he continued. "I
was an only child, and growing up I watched my father's
health deteriorate, along with his marriage to my
mother. But despite the way he treated her, she stayed
with him until the very end. He died of chronic liver
disease when I was sixteen, and after that my mother
fell into a deep depression, ignoring everything and
everyone around her, including me, and she died two
years later. It was as if she'd been so dependent on my
father she didn't know how to live without him."
The sadness in his voice tore at him. As did the fact
that he'd been alone and on his own for so long that
he didn't realize what he was missing. "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for. Both of my parents
chose their own fates." He heard his teeth click against
his glass as he took a drink, his toes absently playing
with his beneath the water. "Their choices made me
realize that it was up to me to make a difference in my
own life, to make something of myself and never depend
on a man the way my mother did."
Which explained his drive and desire to be successful
and self-sufficient. He was scared of falling into the
same trap as his mother. He admired his strength and
fortitude, but knew that while money and independence
might bring him the security he craved, the solitude in
which he lived wouldn't provide ultimate happiness.
Didn't he know he could have it all, a successful job
and a committed relationship, and not sacrifice anything
that would compromise his own personal values?
Apparently not, and he realized it was up to him to show
him differently if he wanted more than one night with
him.
Knowing it was past time to change the direction of
their current conversation, he set his empty glass away
from the hot tub and blindly stretched out his arm. He
found his damp shoulder and used his fingers to draw
squiggly patterns on his wet skin that caused him to
shiver. "So, what's it like out here?"
"The view is incredible," he said, his tone awed, as
well as grateful for the switch in topic. "The city
below is all lit up, and the stars above make it look
like there are a thousand diamonds twinkling up in the
sky. I've never seen anything quite like it before."
NEXT