My mind was finally made up. There would be no turning back on this decision- my safety was at stake. Well maybe not mine exactly, but someone’s safety was gonna be threatened. Mason walked in our apartment a quarter to four in the morning smelling like alcohol, looking like he’d been rolling around in the bottom of the gutter and wearing his stupid “you-caught-me” grin.
“Babe- you waited for me? I thought I texted to say I was gonna be late.” His words were slow and slurred. He tried to wiggle out of his jacket, lost his balance and fell into the wall where he erupted into a fit of laughter and slid down to the floor. I thought my level of disgust with him was at its max, but I was clearly wrong. I saw the dark stain start to grow in his lap just before the smell of urine hit my nostrils.
“First of all, no, you didn’t text me squat. Once again you were only thinking of yourself. Second you’re pissing on my floor and I am not cleaning it or you up this time.” I tried to remain calm but as I walked closer to him my anger got the best of me. I smacked him across his face, leaving a red mark on his cheek. That made him laugh harder.
“Why’d you hit me Lee-lee?” His laughter died out as he looked up at me, his green eyes glossy from probably a little more than just drinks. And just as suddenly as my anger came, it left. He looked so pitiful and helpless that I felt awful for hitting him.
Cupping his face in my hands I kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry baby. You just gotta do better. Come on; let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.” With a lot of effort I was able to get his 6’2 210 pound frame off the floor. The following dance was not new- I stripped him, bathed him and got him into our bed all the while reassuring him that I wasn’t still mad and that I indeed loved him. Once he was comfortable I gathered his soiled clothes and tossed them into the washer and spot cleaned the rug in the living room. Finally making it to bed myself I found Mason still awake.
“Lee-lee, I love the way you take care of me. You’re the only person that is always there for me.” He started to sob a little. “I’m sorry I’m such a f-” I shushed him and drew him close- his head resting on my chest and his tears making my tank top wet. He started to snore and I grabbed the book from my nightstand. I knew sleep wouldn’t come for me. It never did on nights like this. My mind was at war- do I leave the man I love because of his problems, or do I stay and help him work through them?
