My head weighs a fucking ton and I could use a glass of whiskey. Hell, I’d settle for a beer at this point.
But we drive right on back to Princeton afterwards. A couple times, I pull over at a gas station, telling Lily I have to pee. I avoid grabbing any six-packs in the foggy glass fridges, but the second time I park the car, Lily catches on and follows me into the convenience store. She finds me staring questionably at a case of Samuel Adams. Lily talks me down for a good ten minutes, telling me that beer tastes disgusting, that breaking my sobriety is not worth the small, insignificant buzz. She’s right, but I just want to forget everything for one extended moment.
I want all of the memories to shut down so that I can sleep. But everything I did—every mistake, every fucked up word that spilled from my lips—replays on repeat. And I can’t take it back. But I do have the power to drown it all out.
We drive again. Towards home. And I forget about the booze. I try to focus on things that I can do that won’t involve alcohol. “Maybe I should call Aaron,” I say to Lily. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Apologize or something.” What if he didn’t do anything? What if I made it worse by going to his house and threatening him? My father’s way to do things—it could be wrong. It’s all I know. And it’s what put me in this place to begin with.
I have so many regrets. I don’t believe anyone who says they don’t. How can you live life making mistakes and never wish you could take one back?
I destroyed the guy’s wine cellar. If a person did that to me, I wouldn’t be just a little ticked off. I would despise them. And I don’t have much of an excuse. I was just…I was hurting, and I felt like I was screaming and no one could hear me. I was in the wrong, I get it, but my actions never gave him permission to terrorize Lily. For that, I just can’t forgive him.
Lily runs her fingers over my hand that holds the gear shift. “I’m not sure that will help. He may not accept it.”
If Aaron is the guy threatening us, we may be fucked.
We roll up to our gate, and I punch the security number into the keypad. We drive through, parking in the empty garage. Rose is late, not surprising with how much she juggles. When we walk into the house, I flick on the lights, half-expecting Lily to turn around and ask me if we can fuck.
She usually does.
Tonight’s different. Maybe because I openly confessed to thinking about a drink. Maybe she doesn’t want to put me in a position where I have to tell her no.
Lily plops down on the couch like its normal for her to be more interested in the television than the bedroom. “I think they’re playing Thor on HBO,” she says, leaning over to grab the remote. My eyes drop to her knees, squeezed tight together. Yeah, she’s struggling.
After pouring through all those memories, we both deserve a release. I mentally file through the therapist’s blacklist. I’ve reread it enough times that every word is engrained in my head.
No masturbation.
No porn.
No public sex.
Stop when your partner stops. Helpful tips: Start with timing your sessions and have a set hour dedicated to sex. For the first few months stick to positions that won’t elicit increased arousal after a climax. （This is subjective and you will have to experiment to discover what triggers you to keep going.）
Only engage in sex when both you and your partner want to. Helpful tip: Let your partner choose the time.
Healthy amounts – sex cannot interfere with daily routines. Helpful tip: Keep to morning and night schedules.
I know Lily thinks there are stipulations like banning anal and blow jobs. I’ve had lengthy conversations on the phone with Allison, discussing how far I should take Lily. We still have to be intimate, and banning sexual positions won’t help that. So Allison and I agreed that the goal is to get Lily to a point where she doesn’t expect sex.
Not asking me for sex is a good first step, and I want to reward her for it. But I also fear that she’ll catch on to this. Over time she may pretend to be uninterested so she’ll get a lay out of me. The point is to make her stop thinking and wanting sex—not devising strategies to get it.
Considering my mind circulates around hunting for a bottle of something alcoholic, I understand it’s not a simple task.
“Ah, yes!” Lily says excitedly. “We didn’t miss the part with Sif.” Her eyes flicker to me briefly before they return to the TV. “You think we should go to Comic-Con this year? We can dress up as Thor and Sif.”
I sit down next to her on the couch, giving her a cushion worth of distance. I catch the instant frown in her eyes but it disappears when she focuses on the movie.