12/7

Well life goes on and all that. I got me a job but I'll come back to that.
Back to the time when I had the house in the suburbs, was a common commuter, had a daughter, had a wife, and a life. I've always been one to test limits and restrictions. Maybe that's what I was doing with my drinking. I never drunk so hard as from mid-2006. But I wasn't testing myself or my ability to sustain what was left of my health - nah health wasn't a worry - I was testing the fabrics of the bourgeoisie life. Sounds like an excuse to get drunk to an outsider, but when I was drinking I felt liberated and what's more acted liberated. When sober, I was always sucking up to my wife, buying her flowers to say sorry for such and such - I really didn't want to loose her, I loved her. I went to AA meetings for her, but sometimes I just went down the bar instead. I tried to spend time with my daughter by driving her around the countryside, but she always said 'can we go back now' - and then I'd come home, and if my wife was in she'd scream at me, saying I was going to abduct Jenny or I was drink driving and putting Jenny's life in danger. I felt like the whole thing weren't even worth trying for. Like that proverb about no good deed goes unpunished or whatnot. I got mad once after trying to take my daughter fishing. All I wanted was to spend a few hours in the sun, testing the waters and relaxing, hoping my little girl would talk for once. Well we went with Bob, my usual fishing companion, in his large 4by4. He's a character Bob, massive and full of vitality and speaks in roaring anecdotes and laughs as loud as a subwoofer. Well he started chucking whiskey down me from his liquor flask. He was drinking too. But he could handle alot. I liked him more when he drank too. I asked if my daughter wanted a drink. She took a gulp and spat it all out in the water. Bob went red and said he felt like he'd been slapped a good one. Well I persevered and said 'you gotta take it gently honey. Sip." Then Bob got all reverent towards whiskey, saying how its the finest thing for your health, and he was nurturing Jenny, telling her "go on, you'll love the stuff", saying he'd be impressed if a girl her age could keep it down. Well she did. And it was brilliant. That moment was sheer happiness. We all hugged and were hearty and full of fire, our hearts now yearning for a fish. I thought maybe Jenny's a natural at everything. And if she could catch a fish, well, she'd just about be the best daughter out there.
Well that whiskey kicked in, and the poor girl could hardly keep still. First she was laughing and kept plodding her head in the murky water. I said 'that's one way to ruin a pretty face'. Then she couldn't keep her hands from shaking, so I kept thinking she got something on the line. Bob had started singing Cash in his deep baritone, another thing we had in common, a love for Cash. But then poor Jenny started hurtling. Spewing crap into an already crappy canal, and getting her hair in it all. Well I dragged her aside, gave her some bread and she sort of curled up to me, like a cat. That must have been the most pleasant feeling, and the closest, in proximity like, we had come over the last 3 years. Obviously I felt bad for her and a fool, but in that moment the heavens sang to the tune of Ring of fire, and the blessed was my daughter, all curled up infantile and lovely. Well I knew it wouldn't last. The dragon would be waiting. The journey home was pleasant, Bob still singing and dappled sunlight treacling from gaps between trees and my daughter holding me tight, her little hands like cardboard cutouts. Well I brought her in after Bob had beeped and left and took her to her room. The mam was cooking in the kitchen and called out for Jenny. I said she wasn't feeling well and 'I'm taking her to her room'. She came up and saw Jenny in bed, looking a little sweaty and dirty, asking what happened and if she needed a bath. I said she needs sleep first, she can wash herself later. She felt her head and all. I left.
Well downstairs my women took me aside of the stew I was staring at and she looked raged and asked what had happened. 'Why she so dirty, did she fall in the water?" She knew I'd been drinking, and so her eyes thinned and she said, "I could smell alcohol on Jenny. I hope that's from you." Well I was mad and didn't care for this crap or apologies then. I shouted at her saying Jenny had a little. 'Only a little', saying you can't overprotect kids or "they grow up all scared of the world and afraid to stand out", pointing her out as a perfect example of this. Well she didn't like that. And she shouted back. She grabbed some stew, threw it against the wall, asked what I gave her. I said 'whiskey'. Well she went blue and started making a racket. All I said was I'm not going to get her anymore flowers. Then she said I'm a terrible father and a worse man." Well that did it. I slapped that women like I'd slap an enemy. She couldn't believe it. Went quiet from shock and disbelief. She stormed upstairs. I took out a beer and sat in front of the TV. I'd never hit a women before. I regret it now, but for some reason it felt right then. It felt good then. Well she took Jenny and threatened "I'm leaving you". They drove off into that perfect sunny day. I thought I'd be damned to do anything about it. But I was mad my daughter had gotten in between the argument. Lucky for her, she was still out cold when getting dragged to the car.
They cooled down after a night or so away from me - I forgot how long they stayed away as I really went for it for a few days - and I bought the usual aspidistras for my wife - she must have had enough to cultivate her own forest - and life went back to normal. I got sober for 3 weeks. A pledge which was thoroughly difficult, and to this day I'm not sure how I committed to that.