Recollections

The Time Of My Life

The Time Of My Life
(song of the chapter: The Time Of My Life // Jennifer Warnes & Bill Medley)

I can hear the tune of The Time of My Life streaming out of our apartment, before I even reach the top step of our floor. As I pad closer to the door with my keys in hand, the words become more precise.

Vaguely, I can hear Erin trying, in vain, to sing along to the song.  The corners of my lips tug up slightly as I picture her cleaning the apartment and singing at the top of her lungs, like she does so often. These are my favorite days. The days when she's carefree and happy, she sings and dances and just loves life.

Not wanting to interrupt her kamikaze karaoke that she has going on, I try to keep quiet as I let myself into the apartment. My eyes scan the apartment and something seems off.

The apartment isn't spotless like it usually is on the days she goes into a cleaning frenzy. There aren't mounds of folded laundry strewn across our couches, and there's a nearly empty bottle of patron sitting on the kitchen counter without a lid.

Erin is nowhere to be seen, but her screeching vocals can still be heard. My feet follow the sound of her voice down the hall and I notice that the bathroom door is cracked. Pushing the door open, I see Erin neck deep in a bubble bath. Or maybe just bubbles. The bubbles are so overwhelming that I'm not completely certain that there's actually water in the tub with her.

Her eyes are clamped shut and she's bellowing the lyrics in less than perfect harmony. One of her feet is sticking out of the water, swishing this way and that and getting water all over the floor. She still hasn't noticed that I'm standing here in the doorway watching her yet, and I call her name over the music.

Her eyelids lazily slide open and I notice the red rim along her eyes. She's smiling at me but her lips haven't stopped singing. Taking a stride closer, I sit down on the lid of the toilet.

"Hey handsome." She greets.

"Hey baby, how was your day?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I take note of the wine glass in her hand that obviously contains patron.

"I've had the time of my life." She sings, answering my question and harmonizing with the song.

Erin stands up from the bath water, bubbles clinging to her dripping skin. For a moment she slips and nearly looses her footing. My hands dart out towards her, but she's already regained her balance and managed not to spill her drink. She giggles softly and motions for me to help her out of the tub. I hold her steady by the waist. Her free hand rests on my shoulders as she lifts one leg, then the next, out of the bathtub. Erin wraps herself in a towel and I study her clumsy movements as she poorly dries first her skin, then her hair.

"How long have you been drinking?"

Her shoulders rise and fall in a casual gesture. "About eleven."

This isn't usually what I come home to. Erin rarely keeps alcohol in the apartment to begin with, since I've stopped drinking. For her to start drinking that early in the morning and keep on throughout the course of her day, something has to be wrong. This isn't like her at all.

With the towel wrapped around her and tucked beneath her arm, Erin makes her way towards our bedroom. I follow closely behind her.

The song comes to an end, and within seconds it's playing from the beginning. For a second I wonder how long she's had this song on repeat but then I shake the thought from my head, not wanting to know the answer.

The towel drops from around her body and I watch her dance around and also try to find clothes to change into. Erin stops digging through her drawers and starts swaying to the music instead, whipping her hair occasionally. I grab a t-shirt for her and help her pull it on over her head. At first she starts to resist but then she realizes I'm trying to help and cooperates as I snake her arms through the sleeves of the oversized shirt.