Chapter 4: Ernie

I ended up in front of the town church. Carrie and I had stopped coming to the services long ago.

Pastor Marsden was watering the flowers. He wasn’t the stereotypical minister, someone who wore suits or cleric robes and talked down to people. He was more of a buddy; someone you could imagine sitting down and having a drink with. Not that I’d ever done something like that with him, but I could imagine it.

“Good morning, Ernie. How are you today?”

“Been better, to be honest.”

He looked at me. His penetrating eyes seemed to look into my soul, not in a judgmental way, but in a compassionate way.

“Why don’t we go inside and talk?”

“Good idea. I do need help with something.”

I followed the pastor into the church, and then to his office.

“We missed your Santa impersonation on Christmas,” he said, offering me a seat.

I sat down across from him on the other chair.

“Well, I missed it, too. The mayor told me they didn’t need me this year. From what I heard, the sheriff did a great job.”

We both knew the real reason why I didn’t play Santa. I was sure everyone in town knew about Carrie’s problem with alcohol and her stupid husband.

He looked at me with deep concern and finally asked, “What can I do for you, Ernie?”

“I need your advice.”

“Of course, I’m here to help,” he said. “Please go on.”

“It’s about Carrie ... she is ... I mean, she has a ... drinking problem. I don’t know what to do ... I’m lost.”

Then, I proceeded to tell him about my wife’s behavior, about her drinking spiraling out of control, and how tired I was of all of it. Once I started talking, I couldn’t stop.

He listened to me intently, with his eyes closed. Finally, he sat back in his chair, opened his eyes, and said, “I can’t say I didn’t notice Carrie’s problem.”

My face went red. I felt exposed. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. My wife had humiliated me ... once again.

“I know that I should have done something about it sooner instead, I kept making excuses for her. It was easier to rationalize, to blame the stress or someone else, or to convince myself that she would eventually want to give up drinking herself. It was easier than facing the truth,” I said, trying to justify myself.

The pastor listened to me caringly, nodding slowly at my words.

“You are going through a challenging time, Ernie. I don’t think you can get through it yourself.”

“I came to the same conclusion,” I said, cradling my head in my hands. “I’m so tired of this. I feel so alone.”

“We ran an A.A. group in our church. You can bring Carrie to the next meeting,” Pastor Marsden said, and gave me a pamphlet.

“I’m not sure if Carrie would be willing to come to the meetings. She is still in denial.”

“Alcoholics use denial to avoid facing truths that they are unable to deal with. It’s a common reaction.”

“How do you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped? You know the saying, ‘You can lead a horse to the water, but you can’t make him drink’.”

He thought for a while.

“It’s best to let Carrie know you care and to express that you are concerned for her health and well-being. Avoid judgment and accusations.”

“Already done that. It didn’t work. The last time I saw her I gave her an ultimatum.”

The pastor leaned forward, his expression gentle. “An ultimatum can often push people away, Ernie. It might be helpful to approach this with a different strategy. Perhaps, focusing on how her drinking is affecting you or her job could be more effective. It’s about expressing your feelings without blaming or accusing.”

I sighed. “I did that. The last time I saw my wife, she was begging me not to leave her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“I could talk to Carrie if you think that might help.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think it will. I’m not sure how receptive Carrie will be to what you have to say. She’ll get mad at me for telling you and she’ll still deny she has a problem. I just want things to go back to normal,” I said, and sighed.