Page 99 of We Drank the Dawn

“No, Dad. You weren’t.”

“I kicked you while you were down. I could’ve asked why but I didn’t.”

“I deserved it.”

“That might be true, but if we went around giving people what they deserve all the time, the world would be a lot uglier than it already is. Mercy goes a long way.”

Silence fell for a few moments, and I relished in the fact I could talk to my dad like this. His openness and humility was something so intrinsically part of our family that we hardly recognized how much it defined us. For some reason, Cooper flashed across my mind. He didn’t have this.

“So why aren’t you getting back up this time?” There was no accusation in his tone.

I didn’t want to tell him the truth—my whys hardly made sense to me. “I don’t know if I can make anyone get it.”

“Try.”

I spoke slowly. “The basic answer is I’m angry, depressed, and so scared, Dad.”

“Explain it. What’s that look like?”

I took a deep breath, giving my brain time to recall the thoughts and feelings that haunted me. “I’m angry because I feel like I’ve been robbed of everything and everyone I love.” Instantly, my body responded to my words, tension pulling through my breastbone as I spoke. “Every single thing I do and every conversation I have is an uphill battle. The one thing I’ve always been good at—thinking and solving problems—feels impossible because all my thoughts are a carousel of survival now. I can’t process the world around me and everything I experience makes me feel so overwhelmed that I want to hide. Trying to do anything at all taps my nervous system so hard. For example, the guys here at the ranch are running around, doing their chores, while I’m over here counting steps, listening for my cane’s echoes, trying to sense obstacles, gauging distance, fumbling with technology, wondering what every smell is, and it’s just too damn much.”

Dad didn’t say a word, letting me continue.

“And then, on top of that, it’s terrifying. I’ve struggled with the unknown my whole life. I’ve always worried about what’s coming. But now that I’m blind?” My throat zipped with emotion. “Dad, I cannot shake the moment by moment fear that something is just around the corner and that me or someone I love will get hurt. It is constant.

“And this is where I get depressed. In order to keep my marriage intact, I have to not only survive but thrive enough to be able to love and care for my wife. And I don’t know how to do that anymore. I feel paralyzed before I even start because just finding and putting on a pair of pants feels like a feat. I want to do more for her, Dad, I do, but I don’t know how to magically snap out of it. And I feel like…like she deserves better.”

He grunted. “What’s the plan then? If you feel like she deserves better, how are you going to be better?”

“I’m not trying.” I blurted, suddenly irritated that he wasn’t understanding. “I think it would be best if Sarah found someone else who can take her on her adventures and give her the children she can’t stop talking about. I’m not that guy anymore. Everything has changed. We can’t do the things we’ve always loved. I can’t kayak anymore. Hike, bike, or drive her to her favorite places. What about when she’s in labor? Who’s driving like a maniac at 2 a.m.? It won’t be me. If we have a kid, I can’t be left alone with it because it could be in danger and I wouldn’t even know. Sarah deserves to have a companion in life she can count on. And I want that for her. I want it so bad. Enough to let her go.”

I wasn’t much of a crier but saying those words out loud—giving life to them—broke me. And a hot tear raced down my cheek. “You could combine the pain of every single one of my medical diagnoses on a scale and it would not compare to the pain of Sarah one day regretting that she chose me.” Overcome, I hissed a low, heavy curse. Because what was I saying?

She already regretted choosing me. She said so herself.

Her ring sitting in the pocket of my duffle bag proved it.

I spun my own wedding band with my thumb, wondering for the hundredth time if I should take mine off too.

Dad clicked his tongue. “So you would prefer to give up and allow your wife to find comfort in the arms of another man than to buckle down and suck it up?”

Immediate anger flared in my chest as I ground out the words. “I never said that.”

“But that is what you’re saying though, son.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Then help me understand, because all I’m hearing from you are excuses.”

I shook my head, fighting not to lash out. “Of course I don’t actually want her to be with someone else.” I scoffed at the audacity of that. “But I do think that one of us should at least find some happiness in life. If there’s a chance for Sarah to be happy one day, I want that for her. And seriously doubt she will ever find that with me again.”

Long moments of silence passed as Dad clicked his tongue, mulling it over.

Finally, he said, “I have some stuff to say. And, if you’re not man enough to take it right now, I want you to hang up and call me when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now,” I spat.

“You sure?”