Chapter 11: Ernie

Carrie and I started on the long road to recovery.

My wife set forth on a mission to start cleaning up her life. She remained alcohol-free for four months and counting. She also wrote a list of people to whom she would have to make amends.

“Are you sure you are ready for this?” I asked Carrie, without hiding my concern.

“I think I am, at least to some degree. I talked it out with my therapist, and he told me I could. I did not come this far just to give up.”

Carrie’s next few days were filled with phone calls to old friends and roommates and visits to neighbors. Most of the people were very understanding and supportive. Especially people from Middletown. She even talked with the mayor, told him about her recovery, and asked him to consider me again to play Santa next Christmas.

She was overcome with relief after doing so. She wasn’t sure what to do about her family, though.

The only words her father had told me at our wedding reception still resonated in my head. I believed there was nothing good for her, and feared what talking with the obnoxious asshole could do to her recovery.

My wife’s family had always been a mystery to me, so I investigated her father online. He ran a very successful business and was rather well off.

There wasn’t much information about Carrie’s mother. Just some pictures of her and her husband at different upper-class social events posted on her social media. She was always hanging from her husband’s arm.

In the end, Carrie chose not to contact them for the time being. I thought it was the right call.

Our support network had come to include my parents, my sister, my colleagues from school, most of our neighbors, our sponsors, and our groups.

I’d had a long talk with my family about Carrie’s alcoholism. They were not surprised. They let me know we both could count on them.

“You are a good man, Ernie. You’re doing the right thing. Carrie needs your help and support more than ever,” my mom said, kissing my cheek.

My dad hugged me, and said, “I’m proud of you, son. Other men in your shoes would have walked out.”

Kendra punched my arm, and added, “Same goes for me, dumbass. If you need someone to kick your wife’s ass if she gets stupid again, just give me a call. I’ll slap her back to sobriety.”

Carrie and Kendra went out at least once a week, and became good friends.

A few fellow teachers approached me to offer their help. Georgina Eastland, the gym teacher, was one of them. Steve McAllister and his wife had some encouraging words for me and also told me they were there for us whenever we needed them.