Manic

Chapter 25.

Buttermilk falls was about a thirty minute drive from the Thomas manor. Like always, I didn't mind the alone time with Rivers. We talked about his life in New York before his mother died. He points out spots he used to go with friends as we pass the city, and tells stories of the person he used to be.

Growing up with a father who sells cocaine, Rivers turned out amazing. I'm not saying that every person with a drug lord for a parent will fall down that same path, but more often than not, that is what happens. When the person who is supposed to be your example acts in a certain way, it rubs off on you. Take Arden for example.

Rivers tells me that Arden was twelve the first time he tried cocaine. His father found out and instead of beating him, which was a normal thing in their house -like mine- he congratulated him. Saying, "My boy just became a man!"

Since he was little, Rivers had looked up to his mother. Much like me, our mothers were nurturing and loving. Nothing like our cold hearted fathers were. Unlike me, Rivers mother had always been present in his life. That is, until she passed away last year of cancer.

Rivers tells me, "Cancer is not a silent killer. It takes where it wants, not caring about the lives it ruins in its path."

He tells me stories of his mother, loving and sweet, always happy, and always- always- there for him. When his father would come home high on the drug he sold, his mother was there to care for him. He tells me of the bible verse in Psalms 91:4, which says, "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge." He relates this verse to his mother, saying she was like a hen to her chicks, covering him and Arden with her feathers.

Rivers has always been wise beyond his years. With a father like his, he grew up fast. But he took a different path than Arden. Where Arden found comfort in drugs, Rivers found it in books. He would spend hours reading, getting lost in the pages, diving into the life of the character.

"Your turn," Rivers says, as we are about to reach the falls.

"What?" I say.

"Tell me your story. I just opened up to you, it's your turn."

The voices come to my mind immediately. I can't tell him about them. But I find every part of me wishing I could open up to him that completely.

"Where do I even start?" I chuckle.

"I always thought the beginning was a wonderful place to start." Rivers says.

I take a deep breath. I begin telling him about you. All about you. Starting with the smallest details, your hair, the way it was always overgrown. Long and silky, much like mine but much, much longer. Your eyes, exactly like mine, green and boring, utterly average. I tell him how you weren't always this way.

In the beginning of your marriage to mom, you were a recovered alcoholic. You started drinking when you were ten, and stopped when you met mom. You were perfect for eachother. I tell him of the day someone told you that you were still an alcoholic, telling you straight to your face, "Just because you aren't always drunk, doesn't mean you aren't still an alcoholic." I explain what mom told me, that the comment drove you to drinking for the first time in three years.

That didn't make you who you are now. It was when I was born that you became the drunken asshole that you were when you lived with me. The stress had finally gotten to you. You drank. And drank. And drank. And then you would hit. And hit. And hit.

That was all I ever knew. Your cruel hand, moms far off self. I was alone. Until the voices came. But I leave that part out. I wasn't ready.

Then I move on to the more... interesting details. How you were more than just a borderline alcoholic. Constantly drunk, constantly drinking, and constantly mad.

I tell him how you would beat mom and me. I tell him of the night you were arrested, the last time I saw you. And then I open up to Rivers about something I had never opened up to anyone about before. Not my therapist, Adriana. Not even mom. The last words you ever spoke to me.

I tell Rivers how sometimes, I can still hear your voice. When it's late at night and I'm all alone. How I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Feel your hands as they were wrapped around my throat.

"I love you." you said to me just before you squeezed the breath from my lungs. Just before I passed out. Just before mom called the cops and the ambulance took me away from you. Just before you were gone. Forever.

Tears come to my eyes as I finish telling him what you said to me. "I hate myself everyday for this," I say between sobs. "But I wish he was different. I wish he would come back to my life, and be a father."

Rivers glances over at me, and takes a hand off the wheel, grabbing my own in his. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to.