My husband’s cousin and his family are in town.
It was a work trip for him.
A tag-along trip for his wife and two sons.
His wife and I arranged that part.
They got into the city last night and tonight I drove in and picked up their two boys.
You might think my husband would have gone.
Or at least we would have gone together.
But there was “no way” my husband was driving back into the city after he had driven home for the night.
His cousin doesn’t find it “weird” or some kind of social faux paus.
He’s from the same family.
And frankly an alcoholic himself.
But he’s a different kind of alcoholic.
He – and his wife – still like to do things together.
Even alone together, as representative of this week end.
I can’t figure it out.
He’s actually a “worse” alcoholic than my husband in terms of the degree to which he drinks, his sense of fiscal responsibility and the way he speaks to his children.
Yet, she still wants to be with him.
Be alone with him.
All the kids are excited to be with each other for a long week-end and I love having a houseful of family.
When I returned home, my husband had been, shocker, drinking.
But he was in nice-drunk mode.
His “I want to be loving and present” drunk.
So he talked to me while I made dinner and we acted like it was a real marriage and he pretended he wasn’t swaying and I pretended I didn’t notice.
I got the food on the table, the kids seated but by this time he had gone to the basement.
I called down, was he eating?
No, that was all he said.
But what he should have said – what that no really meant was:
No, I am already two sheets to the wind. I couldn’t possibly eat anything at this point and anyway, I can just sit down here in the quiet and drink some more.
See, with the alcoholic husband even on a good night…
It’s still not that good.