One For the Road
Carrie Noble
One for the Road
Carrie Noble
Copyright 2016 Carrie Noble
One for the Road
I arrive home first. This is always when I feel worst. The knot of anxiety gradually rises from the pit of my stomach, up to my chest, until I feel like I can’t breathe.
I need something to do, something to keep me busy, but what? I wander round the house, pottering in each room, restless and fidgety.
‘Come on, get it together. What can I do? I wonder, looking round the living room. There is a basket full of ironing on the sofa and I can’t remember the last time I had vacuumed. There is plenty to do, but nothing that I feel I could actually settle to.
I leave the room and walk to the kitchen. ‘I could make myself a cup of tea’ I say aloud to nobody but myself, drumming my fingers on the green, Formica worktop.
Yes, I could have a brew and watch rubbish on the television. I put the kettle on and get a cup out of the cupboard. The drumming of my fingers gets more urgent as I weigh up a decision. Before the kettle has a chance to boil, I leave the kitchen and run up the stairs like a woman on a mission.
I head to the guest bedroom and open the spare wardrobe, currently housing the summer clothes that would be redundant for at least another six months. At the bottom of the wardrobe, I open the suitcase and from a bag inside remove a bottle of vodka. ‘This is more like it.’
Happy with my new plan I take the bottle down and fill the mug. Perfect. If Sam walks in now it will just look like I am having a cup of tea. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him or more likely in Sam’s case, make him sulk all evening. I don’t what is going on with Sam, he is such a bore these days. What is wrong with having a drink or two after work? He bangs on about me having a problem and needing to have some control. It’s alright for him to have a couple of beers after work, usually whilst he is still working. He always brings work home now.
It is late when Sam manages to leave the office that night and eventually makes it home, three ‘cups of tea’ later. I am desperate to avoid another row and try extra hard to behave normally. After an hour of listening to me talking animatedly about everything, Sam finally asks me why I am acting so strangely. He thinks I have been drinking, but I deny it and he has no proof. There is no evidence, but something is not quite right. There is no big argument, just the silent treatment. Always the silent treatment these days.
*****
Things had not always been like this between us. When we had met, we had both been looking for fun and adventure. We didn’t take life too seriously, we just wanted to have fun.
We met at university. I had been in the first year of my English degree and Sam was in the second year of his accountancy course. We had met at a student union pub crawl and we had been smitten Back then we didn’t have a care in the world. All we were worried about was having a good time and being with each other.
We adored each other. He was a mad cricket supporter, so I made an effort to learn the rules. I even went to some of the games with him. I loved him and if something made him happy, then I was going to make an effort to get involved.
I was there for every university team match he played, screaming support from the crowd.
It was clear to everybody that he loved me as much as I loved him. I was the wilder one who wanted to be at all the social events and so even though he was a bit quieter and shy than I was, he made an effort and went to them all with me.
Our friends were jealous of our relationship. As they floated through one-night-stand after one-night-stand, they wanted somebody to care about them the way we cared about each other.
It came as no surprise to anybody when we were still together when our courses finished. By the time that I had graduated, Sam was settled into his first job and was doing well. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my degree but whilst I figured it out I got a job as a trainee team leader in an office.
Sam thought we were ready to enter a new period of our relationship and so we started looking for a house that we were going to buy together. We found the perfect house and those first months of living together were difficult, but we found a routine that worked for us and everything seemed perfect.
In fact, everything was so perfect that on the third anniversary of when we had met at that student union pub crawl, Sam took me to my favourite restaurant and at the end of the first course, asked me to make him the happiest man in the world and become his wife.
In August the next year our friends and families gathered to watch as we made our vows, feeling that same mixture of happiness and jealousy that overtakes you when you see others leading that perfect life that you believe should be yours.
W had everything, thought the guests as they left that evening, us a brilliant honeymoon in Hawaii.
I had been desperately looking forward to the honeymoon. As happy as I was with my new life, I was spending less and less time with Sam. He was doing well in his job and working towards his first promotion, he was working all hours. Even when he came home he would often bring work home with him. He seemed constantly on edge and so bloody serious all the time. Two weeks together, just us and no work I couldn’t wait. It would be like the old days when we were at university without a care in the world. I hadn’t got on the plane before I realised that I didn’t want our time together to end.
Sam had wanted me to have anything I wanted whilst we were away and didn’t want me to worry about anything so he had booked a beautiful hotel and had gone for an all-inclusive package, so all our food and drinks were covered. All we had to do was relax and have a good time.
And that is exactly what I decided I was going to do. With free alcohol around me from when I woke up in the morning until I went to bed in the early hours of the next morning, I thought life was perfect.
With vodka for breakfast, I was soon drinking like I had when I had been a care free fresher. I was going to have a good time and nobody was going to stop me.
It didn’t take me long to realise that Sam wasn’t sharing my enthusiasm for the free bar. He wasn’t starting as early as I was and even when he did start drinking, it was a beer and he was slowing down. Why was he being so different? Why was he being so weird? There was another thing. I didn’t know whether I was being paranoid, but he seemed to be getting moody with me. He was making snide comments about my drinking, ‘Starting early again I see’ or ‘why don’t you get a coffee this time?’ What was his problem anyway? He was acting like my mum.
Things carried on like that for the first three days. Day four, that was when things changed. The night before we had gone out for a meal and then for a walk, stopping for a drink at the bars we liked the look of. Again, Sam was taking it slowly, having a beer and making it last for hours. Well, he wasn’t going to stop me having fun. So I carried on as normal. It was probably 8pm when I was so drunk that I lost all sense of what I was doing. I was in my happy place and so I didn’t notice the judgmental looks from the other guests in the bar, although it was clear from Sam’s discomfiture that he didn’t miss them. What I also didn’t see was that Sam was not finding my drunken behaviour funny either.
Sam had had to help me all the way home, stopping twice whilst I was sick. He had stood patiently, holding my hair out of my face whilst those passing by us made comments or worse, gave him pitying looks. He was so angry he didn’t know what to do. He got me home and put me to bed. It was 9pm on the third night of our holiday and he was sat alone in the hotel bar, trying to calm down.
The next day, day four. That was when the arguments started. I woke up with a headache, but little recollection of what had happened. As soon as I saw Sam’s face I knew it was not going to be a good day. As calmly as he could, he filled me in on being so drunk that I c
ould barely walk, knocking over the drinks on the table next to them, dancing on my own whilst everybody stared at me, desperate to be the centre of everybody’s attention. I knew he wasn’t happy but didn’t know why. I was on my honeymoon; I was letting my hair down. What was I doing that was so bad? Why did he care so much about what everybody thought? Sam didn’t accept my excuses. He had wanted me to have everything and so he had brought me to an exclusive resort and what was I doing in return. In his opinion I was being a complete embarrassment.
This was the worst argument we had ever had and the things Sam said about me cut me so deep. Unfortunately for me, this was just the start. Everything I did, everything I drank was under scrutiny.
By the end of the honeymoon I was no longer drinking because it was fun. I needed a drink. I needed to forget the things Sam had said to me. The way he had made me feel.
I had been so sure that we were the perfect couple that everybody called us. Now, the seeds of doubt were being sown. Where we growing apart? Was I going to lose him?
Before we came home I had agreed to reign in my drinking and ‘grow up’ as Sam had put it. I would do it for him. After all, it wouldn’t be forever would it. We just needed this to blow over and then hopefully everything would get back to normal.
When we got back from honeymoon, things were still tense and I was still scared that I was losing Sam, but I tried to make things better and tried to be what he wanted me to be.
The first big test of our relationship since our return from honeymoon was to be a family meal to celebrate his parents’ 25th wedding anniversary.
Sam had always been close to his mum and dad. More often than not we would end up there on a Sunday afternoon for our dinner. After dinner Sam would disappear to the pub with his dad for a couple of drinks whilst his mum and I would have a catch up.
Sam also saw his parents during the week. After a competitive game of squash with his dad, Sam would drop by his parents’ house for tea before coming home.
Three weeks after we returned from honeymoon and with the tension between us unbearable, it was the big meal to celebrate Tom and Pam's 25th wedding anniversary. Everybody was looking forward to it. Everybody that is apart from us. Sam was nervy and edgy every time it was mentioned. The night before the meal it became clear why he was not as excited as everybody else.
We had both come home from work and had tea as normal, but Sam was quieter than usual and it was clear that there was something on his mind. I waited until I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked him what was wrong. I wish I hadn’t.
It was me, that was what was wrong. He quite bluntly and hurtfully told me that he didn’t want us to go because he knew I would get drunk and make a show of him. I couldn’t believe that he was actually embarrassed of me.
After another wasted night of throwing accusations and hurtful words at each other, I told him that if that was how he felt he should go on his own. This wasn’t good enough either. If he turned up on his own they would know something was wrong and they would ruin their night worrying.
Without any hint of the Sam I knew and loved, he coldly told me that we were going, but I was going to reign in my drinking and be on my best behaviour or it would be the end of us.
I couldn’t believe what was happening to us, and why? Just because I liked to have a good time? He made me feel little and worthless and more than anything I just wanted a drink.
We arrived at the restaurant looking every inch the happy, newly married couple. We acted like we didn’t have a care in the world as we told everybody how amazing our honeymoon had been and laughed uncomfortably as people talked about how we would all be meeting up like this again in 25 years’ time for our anniversary. The cold dread in the pit of my stomach told me that somehow it just wasn’t going to happen for us.
Knowing my marriage was at risk I made a real effort to slow down and give Sam no reason to be mad at me. I stayed away from the vodka completely and noticing that most people were drinking from the bottles on the table, I poured myself a glass of Prosecco and tried to make it last. I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that I wasn’t drinking but didn’t want to upset Sam.
Oh, what a mistake that was. Having never really drunk wine before I hadn’t realised just how potent it was, especially combined with my apparent intolerance to it. I only had two glasses but I could feel a fuzziness and a light headedness take over me. I decided to go to the toilet and splash some water on my face. I stood up, but I couldn’t seem to balance. In my inebriated state I thought that walking really slowly, holding onto anything I could find would be great. Nobody would notice a thing.
Wrong again. As I stumbled back from the toilets I saw the look on Sam’s face and I knew. I had ruined everything again. He was mad at me and this time he might leave. Well, if I was in trouble anyway I may as well prepare myself for the fight ahead, so whilst Sam was glaring at me, I poured myself another drink and downed it. As I drained the glass, the warm alcohol made me braver than I actually was and I found myself glaring back at him, daring him to say something.
‘You just can’t help yourself can you, you selfish cow.’
‘Sam, what is wrong darling? Don’t speak to Nicola like that, she is just a bit tipsy, it is a special occasion.’ Pam had been shocked to see her son lash out at me.
‘Oh mum, Nicola doesn’t need a special occasion to get hammered and make a holy show of me. She does it all the time. No matter how many times I tell her she is an embarrassment she still carries on. I am not having it anymore. Get your coat, you pathetic mess, we are leaving.’
He apologised to his mum and grabbed my arm, marching us out the restaurant towards the taxi rank. He didn’t speak to me whilst we waited for the next taxi or for the ride home. I entered the living room waiting for the argument. It never came. He simply locked the door and headed upstairs, leaving me alone, on the sofa, sobbing into a cushion and wondering how everything had become such a mess.
I waited and waited but no row came. He ignored me which hurt me so much more. He went to work and came home, heading straight up to the guest bedroom. Every day I tried to speak to him, make polite conversation, ask what he wanted for tea, but for two whole weeks he ignored me. After a fortnight of silence, I couldn’t take it anymore. I begged, I cried, I promised to change. I agreed to whatever he wanted if only he wouldn’t give up on us.
After hours of talking I think I finally wore him down and he agreed to give me another chance. By the skin of my teeth I had kept him. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy but at least we had a chance of making it now.
We carried on with our uneasy, tense truce. In my desperation I had promised to stop drinking. Anything to keep him from leaving me. What I wasn’t prepared for was how much of a toll working to save my marriage would take.
I was constantly on edge, worried that anything I said or did would annoy Sam and that would be that, he would just leave. I was so worried and uptight, desperate to do the right thing. I suddenly needed reassurance from Sam that everything was ok, but this soon started to get on his nerves and became counter-productive.
Oh my word, I needed a drink. I was so worried and just a little drink would take the edge off. That was when I decided that I just needed Sam to think that I was not drinking anymore and I could just have the odd little drink to ease some of the stress. That would be better for both of us, if I wasn’t so uptight, right?
So I started buying bottles of vodka and hiding them around the house in the places that I knew Sam wouldn’t find them. All I had to do was put it in a cup and Sam would think I was having a cup of tea. Sorted.
This was how I got through the next two months. It seemed to be working, Sam didn’t seem to be suspicious and we were getting on a bit better.
I started to think that we were getting back on track when the next obstacle presented itself. Sam was still doing well at work and had developed a good working relationship with his boss. When Sam came home on the Friday night he seemed fri
endlier and more loving than usual and I was thrilled. That is, until he started asking me about my drinking and how I was finding going without. I started to panic about where he was going with the conversation, had he found my secret stash? Stuttering, I asked him if everything was ok. It was then that he told me that his boss had invited us out for a meal with him and his wife and Sam thought that he was close to a promotion.
Sam was unsure about how I would cope and wanted to know if he should make an excuse as to why I couldn’t attend. I was heartbroken. How could he think that I would do anything to damage his career, so I promised him that everything would be ok and the arrangements were made.
At the restaurant I could see Sam start to relax as I ordered a tonic water. He thought that I was on my best behaviour and he finally believed me when I said everything would work out. I can honestly say that I tried as hard as I could but I quickly started to feel anxious. I was worried about saying anything that would embarrass Sam or make him angry with me. That was if I could say anything at all. They were talking shop and it was all going over my head. I felt stupid, and that I was letting Sam down.
If only I could have a drink. That would loosen me up a bit and give me the confidence I needed to give Sam the support he deserved. I needed a drink, but how could I get one without Sam knowing. I finished my tonic and suggested that I go to the bar to get some more drinks, as the waitresses were all busy. I took everybody’s order and headed to the bar. Knowing that I might not be able to get to the bar again soon without arousing Sam’s suspicions, I ordered a double vodka to go with my tonic. Before I could comprehend what I was doing, before I could stop myself, I downed it there and then. I quickly ordered another, added the tonic and made my way back to the table.
By the time that dessert arrived, I had made two further trips to the bar and done the same thing both times. I felt completely in control and was starting to enjoy myself when I noticed Sam’s face and body language stiffen. Sam moved close to me and started to whisper in my ear, ‘Why are you slurring your words, and for heaven’s sake keep your voice down, you are making a show of yourself?’
Before I could answer, Sam reached over and took a gulp of my drink, quickly realising that there was a lot of vodka sharing the glass with my tonic. Sam was fuming and could see that his manager was starting to become bemused at my now slightly manic behaviour.
By this stage I was too merry to notice the way that Sam was looking at me and before I knew what was happening he was telling his boss that we needed to get home; realising that he was saying goodbye to any chance of promotion in the near future, as well as to his manager. All Sam could hope for now was that his boss was discreet and that my antics wouldn’t become the talk of the office.
In complete silence Sam took me home, put me to bed and again moved himself into the spare bedroom. When I woke up the next morning I had no idea anything was wrong, I couldn’t remember how the night had ended. As far as I was aware I had been on my best behaviour and Sam had no idea that I had been drinking. So why was I getting the silent treatment? Why had Sam slept in the spare bedroom?
As soon as Sam started to tell me exactly what he thought of me it came back to me. Downing double vodkas at the bar and oh my, why couldn’t I remember getting home. How many had I had to drink?
I thought I had seen Sam as angry as it was possible for him to be, but I was wrong. For over an hour he ranted and ranted about what a joke I was, how I was dragging him down and ruining his life.
I said nothing. There was nothing I could say. I was defeated. He was going to leave. Then the unexpected happened. He sat down and started to cry. My strong Sam was crying uncontrollably. I ran over and held him as hard as I could. Never letting go until the crying stopped.
‘I love you so much, but you are destroying us.’
‘I don’t mean to, I really don’t. I love you so much.’
Not as much as you love a drink though’.
‘Stop it Sam. That is not fair. I love you more than anything. I will do anything.’
‘Anything’
‘Yes, anything, I promise.’
‘If you want to save our marriage you have to admit you have a problem with alcohol and get the help you need.’
I really didn’t think I had a problem, but if that was what he needed to hear, if that was what I needed to do, then so be it, I would go through the motions until this blew over.
The next day we went to the doctors and Sam told him all about my ‘problem’. He referred me to an alcohol support group and gave me details of Alcoholics Anonymous groups in the area. I left the surgery with handfuls of leaflets about the effects of alcohol and details of counselling services that might be useful. It all seemed like a complete over reaction to me. I just liked a drink to unwind sometimes, what was the big deal? Why was nobody wondering why Sam had become so boring and uptight?
I never said that though. I had to show Sam that I would do what it took to save our marriage, so I attended the appointments he arranged for me and made the right, encouraging, positive noises.
For his part Sam tried to be supportive. He decided that we would stop going out to places where there was alcohol. If I had no access to alcohol I couldn’t drink and everything would be ok.
He didn’t know then that I was hiding alcohol and drinking it when he wasn’t in. Didn’t know that I had started pouring vodka in to my tea mug to hide my drinking. This appeared to be working and we started to get back on track. He was still worrying about me but not about my drinking. He thought there was something wrong with my memory as I kept on forgetting conversations I had the night before. He thought that maybe my excessive drinking might have damaged my memory and asked me to see my doctor. I pretended to go and told him that the doctor thought it was just down to the stress I had been under. He bought it but was still worried.
I started to relax and think that everything was under control, I became complacent even. So, on a normal Saturday morning when we decided to clean the house I didn’t have a care in the world. I didn’t even worry when he told me he couldn’t find a cloth and was going to look for one in the cupboard under the sink. The cupboard under the sink that he never went in. The cupboard under the sink that hid my guilty secret.
I was oblivious to the approaching disaster until I saw Sam walking into the kitchen, with a face like thunder and my bottle of vodka in his hands. Before I know what was happening he was opening the bottle of vodka and trying to force it down my throat telling me that that was all I wanted, the vodka was all I cared about. I screamed, begging him to stop. He threw the bottle against the wall and stormed out the house. All I could hear was the sound of his car engine, followed by the screech of his tyres as he sped away, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.
This became the pattern of our lives for the next six months. He would catch me drinking, we would have an almighty row where he would tell me that our marriage was over and would storm out and go and stay at his parents for a few days.
For the days that followed there would be constant texts between us with his saying he couldn’t take anymore and me promising to change. Ultimately, after days of being miserable I would promise to change and he loved me so much that he just wanted to believe me and the pattern would start again.
It wasn't just my marriage I was risking whilst on the path of self destruction I had chosen, not just for myself, but also for the man I loved so much. I was drinking nearly every evening and it was getting harder and harder to get up in the morning. I started arriving at work later than usual but still before I was due in. Before long I was racing up the stairs to the floor I worked on, to make sure I was just on time. That had not lasted long and soon it was not unusual for me to be late, very late. My manager called me in several times to see if anything was wrong and if there was anything she could do.
Then, knowing that my job was now under risk all I could think of was when I could have a drink and make all the pain and worry go away.
I couldn't focus on what I was supposed to be doing and my work started coming back to me so I could correct the errors I had made.
That was when I started going to the pub round the corner for a drink at lunch time. Just something to get me through the day. Nobody would know. Everything was going to be OK.
Everything was ok, I was getting by. I was struggling but coping. Until they gave me a warning. Then the panic got too much. I went to the pub and one drink to help me face going back to work became several.
I eventually made it back to work at 3 o clock, stumbling and falling as I tried to get to my desk I was taken into a room by my manager and advised that I was being sacked for attending work whilst drunk.
I had really done it now. What was Sam going to say. This was it. I had properly messed up now and was going to lose everything. Later that night, after several coffees, Sam returned home and having had hours to think of a story I told him that I had been sacked because I had made a mistake at work. I told him that it was something I had never been trained on and so was really unfair. I couldn't quite believe it but he bought it. He wasn’t thrilled though and made it clear that I had to find a new job as soon as possible as he wasn't willing to support me forever.
We desperately tried to keep our problems a secret from everybody, including Sam's parents. Because of the times that he had been to stay they knew we were having problems but, unable to get Sam to talk they put it down to adjusting to married life, after all the focus on planning the wedding.
So, in the dark about my drinking and the problems it was causing, they decided to plan a surprise party for his 25 birthday. Just a small do, but something to cheer him up. They knew I couldn't keep a secret so the first either of us knew about it was when we arrived at his parents house and all Sam's friends and family jumped out shouting surprise.
We were gutted. We just wanted a low key affair, as Sam knew I couldn’t be trusted around alcohol.
‘Oh mum, you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble, really you shouldn’t have'
‘Don’t be silly son. You kids deserve to let your hair down every now and again. Tom darling, get Sam and Nicola a drink will you. I don't want to see their glasses empty tonight, do you hear me?’
‘Yes boss.’ Replied Tom as he hurried to the kitchen to get Sam a bottle of beer and me a vodka and tonic.
I looked at Sam and saw that he had gone pale and looked on the verge of tears. This was the last thing that Sam wanted. He believed I was going to embarrass him in front of his family. The look he gave me was no longer full of that explosive anger I had seen so many times. This look was new and just as painful. It was resentment. He hated that he loved me too much to leave and he hated what his life had become because he married me.
For the first hour he was like a limpet, following me everywhere, making sure that I didn't drink the vodka that was forced into my hand. He manoeuvred me into the kitchen and swapped my drink for plain tonic. Still he wouldn’t let me out of his sight.
Eventually though he had no choice. Everybody there wanted to talk to him, wanted to drag him away for a drink and a catch up. With comments about how they wouldn’t keep him away from me for too long they succeeded in getting him out into the back garden where the menfolk had gravitated to.
Thank the heavens for that. Of course I was not going to embarrass him in front of his family but this whole situation was just too stressful. I just needed a bit of Dutch courage to get me through the evening. I saw Tom weaving through the throng of guests seeing who needed a top up and emptied the glass of tonic before he reached me.
‘Same again Nic?’
‘Oh go on then Tom'
As the evening progressed I started to relax and actually enjoy myself. Hopefully Sam was doing the same and we could just have a nice quiet night with no drama.
When I woke the next morning, that sick feeling of dread reached my stomach before I fully opened my eyes. I couldn't remember getting home from the party or getting to bed. Oh no. What had I done this time?
I didn't have long to wait. I sheepishly made my way down to the kitchen wondering what atmosphere was awaiting me. I opened the kitchen door and was surprised to see Tom and Pam sitting at the table whilst Sam paced the length of the kitchen. They all turned to look at me and then I had no doubt. This was bad.
Sam filled me in on the bits I couldn't remember as I fell to the floor crying. He had heard a mixture of laughing and outrage from the living room and had come in to see what was happening, knowing deep in his heart that I would be somewhere involved and he was going to suffer more pain.
Even he hadn't been prepared for the sight that greeted him. I was wasted and had taken to the middle of the living room where I was the only one dancing. Sam approached me as I was trying to force an embarrassed, distant cousin to dirty dance with me.
That was when he had broken down and told his mum and dad about the miserable life he was leading and how he felt trapped. They were devastated and were very clear that he had given me chances and he should leave me and start again. I really thought that this time it was over. He asked his parents to leave and said he needed time to figure things out.
I knew that I was trapped in a vicious circle that would ultimately destroy me and everything I cared about. I was clinging desperately onto my marriage and now I needed to find a job as well. I knew I needed to give up drinking if I was to salvage anything, but that pressure just made me want a drink, made me weak, made me need to risk everything just for that lift it gave me, that would take the edge off and make me feel better. I didn’t know what to do or what Sam was going to do.
We carried on in the purgatory of our own making, unsure what to do, what to say. We barely spoke and every time I saw Sam I realised how much strain was showing in his face, saw how miserable I was making him. I knew we couldn’t carry on like this. It was going to end, come to a head and it wouldn’t be pretty.
