Chapter 2: Ernie

I stormed out of the house and walked around town to calm my nerves. I walked as if the devil was chasing me. Maybe he was. A demon called alcohol was destroying my marriage.

I was tired of the lies, the mood swings, and the constant worry about Carrie’s well-being.

I began to weep and could not stop. I didn’t deserve all the pain I had endured all these years.

“My wife is an alcoholic,” I muttered. I had turned a blind eye to my wife’s alcoholism. Not anymore.

My ‘perfect’ marriage had never been perfect. I had been living a fantasy. Lately, I had become a caretaker, rather than a spouse.

The future we had planned together was long gone.

Our social life was nonexistent.

Our sex life could hardly be worse. I didn’t feel attracted to Carrie anymore.

I couldn’t do this anymore. She needed help. I needed help.

Believe it or not. There was a time when Carrie made me happy, happier than I ever could have dreamed of being.

I met my future wife at a gathering in Seattle. Random meeting, instant relationship. We were both in our mid-twenties and we were not in a relationship. We were attracted to each other like two magnets. We were so very different that it made us perfect complements. I was shy and preferred to listen more than talk. I was captivated by her. She was the soul of any social event. She mingled with everyone and seemed to be carefree and full of life. She was sweet, funny, and kind. Her laugh was infectious.

I was a teacher at Middletown High. She was a project manager in Seattle. I lived in a small town, and she had grown up in a big city.

We dated and our attraction turned into love. I drove back and forth from Middletown to Seattle every weekend.

Dating Carrie was an adventure. Our first months were pure bliss. She fell in love with Middletown. Camping and hiking became our favorite outdoor activities.

The first clouds in our clear sky appeared six or seven months later.

Carrie’s personality changed. My loving and adventurous girlfriend had turned into a distant, anxious, and snappy person. I knew something was wrong, but Carrie refused to talk about it. I thought she had found herself a new man and was looking for an excuse to break up with me.

“Carrie, something’s not right. You’ve been acting differently lately. Is everything okay?”

“Of course, I’m fine. Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” she said defensively.

“Something is going on with you. I can see it. You’ve changed. I love you, but these last weeks you’ve been like a time bomb waiting to go off. Talk to me, please. I want to help you, but you shut me out.”

She started to cry. “It’s not you, Ernie, it’s me. This is something I have to sort out by myself. I need some time by myself.”

“Is there someone else?” I couldn’t help the quiver in my voice.

“What? Of course, not! Ernie, I love you with all my heart. This is something else.”

Years later, I discovered Carrie had tried to stay away from alcohol but being sober made her a different person. It was like Jekyll and Hyde.

Two weeks later, Carrie came back to me and apologized for her behavior. She told me a story about being stressed about some projects and deadlines at work. I chose to believe her because the truth was I wanted her back in my life. Scratch that, I needed her back in my life. So, we became an item again.

Six months later, we started talking about our future, and the same cycle repeated. This time, I made the decision to break up with her.

Three days later, Carrie showed up at my doorstep with tears in her eyes. “I need you, Ernie. You are my rock. My one and only love. Give me a chance to make things right. Please! I’ll promise you I’ll change.”

There was this gallant streak in me that wanted to protect her, so I took her back. Or maybe I was stupid. Take your pick.

At that time, I had a feeling Carrie had a deep black hole at her very center. Hiding behind a carefree mask, there was a very troubled person. I foolishly thought that all I had to do was fill the void within her with my love, and together, we would be happy forever.

As she promised, Carrie was back to her old loving self. Before long, we decided our relationship was destined to become permanent, so we started making plans for the future. We talked about marriage, children, and fidelity. In the coolness of October, I proposed. At first, she thought I was joking. I told her I was not, and she accepted.

I decided it was time for her to meet my parents, who suggested I invite my brand-new fiancée for Sunday lunch.

When I told Carrie about meeting my parents she was petrified with fear. My reassurance that neither of my parents would bite did nothing to assuage her anxiety, which bordered on panic.

Sunday lunch went remarkably well. My parents fell in love with her on the spot. My mother was a very nurturing person and showered Carrie with TLC. Carrie’s anxiety vanished ten minutes after my mother hugged her tightly and welcomed her to our family.

I was never invited to meet Carrie’s parents. Her family was a no-go subject for her that I respected. She didn’t even invite them to our wedding which was a very simple event.

We got married at Middletown’s church on a cold December morning with my family and a few friends and colleagues in attendance.

Some days later, Carrie got a call from her father. Her whole demeanor changed. She was that scared person again. The call was short and to the point.

“My father organized a wedding party for us,” she said in a perfunctory voice, when the call ended. “Somehow, he discovered we got married.”

I thought it was a nice gesture. Carrie didn’t. “You don’t know my father, Ernie,” was all she said.

The next weekend, we drove to Seattle, to her parents’ house.

Her father had invited a lot of people we didn’t know to the reception. Her family’s place was a mansion, and it was packed with businessmen, politicians, and people from Seattle’s high class. On my side, it was only my parents, my sister, my best man, and a few selected colleagues from Middletown High. It was a lavish, cold, and well-organized event. We were like extras at our own party. I could tell Carrie was equally uncomfortable as me, if not more.

I took an immediate dislike of her father; he was a stuck-up snob who thought he was better than everyone around him. He couldn’t be more different from Carrie. At some point, he took me aside. I supposed we were going to have ‘the talk’. You know, ‘don’t hurt my little girl’ and all that. I couldn’t be more wrong.

“Nice to finally meet you, sir,” I said, extending my hand.

“How did you dare to get married to my daughter without letting me know? Do you know how embarrassing it was to me to learn about your wedding for a business associate?”

I was about to apologize and explain that it was Carrie’s decision to leave them out of our wedding, not mine. However, throwing my wife under the bus was not something I’d do. So, I kept my mouth shut.