The stranger in the mirror | Wattys2016

(15) Bailed out and alone

"I've got the dog" she snaps in lieu of a proper greeting.

It's been about 6 weeks since the last time I talked to my wife – which is an insane thought, because it feels like it must've been a year, considering everything that happened since then. It's no less unsettling how much happened since the last time Oxy was here to visit; that time she couldn't bring herself to more than hope she could not hate me and want to believe me.

To sum up what happened: it was no exaggeration to say that that lawyer, S, is the best – and it really paid to have those blood-tests done on the day I found the body in the bathroom. Turns out, I had taken such a wild cocktail of various drugs and alcohol that S is certain she'll be able to argue the case for diminished criminal responsibility. The result of this is that she's positive she'll get me off with a suspended sentence - basically, I get to walk free (as long as I stay out of trouble, that is); I'll soon be back to my old life.

Not only that, but I'm actually about to go home. I was just informed that the trial is 10 days from now and a bail has been set – which Oxy paid, apparently, knowing I have no money to speak of. She didn't come visit me, but she paid the bail, so that's something. Anyway, the point is, I'm about to go home.

Which brings me back to the phone call – we haven't spoken in a while, but as soon as S told me the good news, I decided it was time to ring Oxy; pointless, really, as she already knows, and I know she paid the bail without expecting a thank you in return, but I felt I should talk to her about that. She left the phone ringing for what felt like an eternity before picking it up; maybe she was just busy, or maybe she was unsure whether or not to take the call.

"Hey, hi...I just - I'm about to go home! I know it's been a while, but I just wanted to say thanks for bailing me out, thanks so much" I begin tentatively.

"I've got the dog" she snaps in lieu of a proper greeting – or a "you're welcome", for that matter.

"Huh?"

"The dog, your dog. I was at your place because I went to pick up the mail once a week and look it through for bills or other things that require immediate attention, and a very upset neighbor came up to me and shoved the dog into my arms. She said you left him with her and just never picked him up again?!"

Taken aback after being snarled at like that – though, admittedly, I should have seen it coming, shouldn't I? – I have no better response than: "Oh, yeah – I...I forgot about that. Well, good."

"Good?! Just good?! That dog has loved you dearly for years, it depends upon you, and I know he has helped you through some rough patches as well, how are you so cold? Is there any shred of a sense of responsibility left within you? Any empathy?"

"What the fuck is up with you? I'm not dealing with this bullshit."

"Well I could say quite the same."

"What's your problem? Huh?! You haven't bothered to visit or even call me for weeks, and now I call to thank you and this is how you talk to me?"

"I never bothered?! I bailed you out! I took care of your mail and dealt with your landlord and all your other shit – and I've got your goddamn dog with me right now!"

There's a long moment of tense silence in the line – all you can hear is breathing on both ends, and I'm guessing both of us are aware that this is the moment where either the whole thing blows up in our faces, or we somehow manage to turn it around. And yes, there is a part of me that's angry, no, furious, that wants to call her an arrogant, judgmental bitch and hang up; but there's also a part that's scared to hang up on the last person I have in my life, scared to come home and be truly alone, and even though her rage against me is unjustified, that part is the one that gets the better of me.