It was the two weeks leading up to Christmas 2010. I hoped that with my parents knowing the truth, it would rattle his world and he would
come to terms with his demons, stop being a self-absorbed dickhead. There were more ‘counselling sessions’ with my dad and in that time and I saw glimpses of Mort pre-2010, when he has participative and engaged.
Remembering that Mort had till now skated through because he was a high functioning alcoholic, it wasn’t his change in manner that friends started to comment on, but it was his appearance. His excema was clearing up and some weight was melting off. Friends were commenting that he was looking healthy (mind you this is compared to how he was looking before which was decidedly toxic). I tried to use these remarks as one way to encourage him to continue on his sober path.
I was supportive but nervous as I was still trying to reconcile and figure out all the bizarre crap that had happened in the preceeding weeks. What heightened my nerves was the fact that after about a week of sobriety he started saying, “I’ve been so good, can’t I just have one drink.” He started trying to bargain what kind of alcohol, “I won’t have a vodka or anything, just a glass or two of wine or beer…..come on, it’s Christmas”.
The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle and I went to bed grinding my teeth.<