“Abby is that you?” Farrell called out from the kitchen.
I walked in, and set my bag down, and hung up my coat, “Yeah I’m home.” I slipped my keys on the hook by my front door, and made my way to the kitchen.
“Baby you ok?” He sauntered over to me, wiping his hands on the towel.
I sat down at my breakfast bar, and put my head down, “She lied. Well, she didn’t I guess. I assumed he hit her. I’m so stupid. After Arc’s past, I should have known he’d never touch anyone.” I swallowed feeling a lump in my throat. Farrell rubbed my back, and remained quiet. The timer on the stove went off. He kissed my head, and left me to attend to dinner.
“He’d been drinking, but three glasses of Scotch over four or more hours.” I sighed, picking my head up.
Farrell looked in my direction, “He’s six foot four, and what roughly two hundred and twenty pounds. He’s in great shape. Three glasses, wouldn’t really do much to him.”
The plus of dating someone in the medical field, like myself; calculations came easily.
“Arc’s never really been a drinker. Once she dumped him, well now it seem’s to be his thing. I’m not saying he’s an alcoholic. He’s just become a drinker.”
Farrell smiled, and started serving food on the dishes, “Baby drinking isn’t a bad thing. If it’s here and there, I wouldn’t worry.”
Abby shook her head, “Their father was an alcoholic. So I do become concerned. Cassiel drinks, which isn’t uncommon.”
Farrell brought over our plates, and set them down. He placed the silverware, and gave me a glass of water, “Well just check on him. I’m not sure what else to do. I don’t want you to give up your friendship for me. I won’t become jealous over you having male friends. I know how much he means to you. I thank you for being honest with me..” He smiled, and started to eat.
I quietly joined him eating. I was tired, and had worked a long shift. My appetite wasn’t thriving at the moment. He picked up on it.
“Hey if you’re not hungry, it’s ok. I know you’re exhausted. Did you have a meeting tonight?” He gently held my hand, and rubbed his thumbs across my knuckles.
I just nodded, “It was hard. I can’t talk about with strangers.”
He pushed my plate to the side, and moved closer to me, and held my hands, “I will listen, whenever you want to talk. Even if I’m asleep, wake me up, and I will listen. I don’t want you hiding away your pain. I’m here for you.”
I smiled, and leaned forward, resting my head against his chest.
He rubbed my back, resting his chin gently on top of my head, “Let’s get you into bed. You’re exhausted ok.” I nodded, and stood up walking to the wardrobe, and pulled out a t-shirt, and old scrub pants.
“Best pj’s in the world.” Farrel smiled, and I nodded, tying the string to my pants. I pulled my scrub top off, and pulled on my t-shirt.
“Never get tired of wearing them either.” I smiled, crawling into bed.
Farrel walked over, and took his sneakers off, and changed out of his clothes. He slid in beside me, and held me stroking my arm, “I was curious, is your father still alive?”
I shook my head. “Irony I guess. He was an alcoholic. He would up sobering up, then was killed by a drunk driver. My dad was leaving an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. The guy was drunk, went to the liquor store to buy more. My dad was crossing the street when it happened.”
Farrell looked at me, “It was a few years ago right?” He continued stroking my arm.
“Yeah. Three years ago. I wasn’t upset, or sad. I just felt as though well, Karma paid it’s visit. He wasn’t a father. My mother, she enabled him. I just never understood why she stayed. Arcanum said, “We love the person. The disease is just like the baggage that comes along.” I just couldn’t understand it. He, and I had similar up brings with that aspect. My mom cared, but she didn’t have the “Strength” to leave him, or kick him out. I wound up in foster care. Then a residential facility. It was so fucking ridiculous.” I started to become angered by the memories.
“Calm down ok. You’re talking, and that’s great. I don’t want you getting upset. You’ve had a long, and rough day.” He smiled, kissing my forehead.
“I wasn’t suicidal. I just wanted to release the pain I felt. I cut, and continuously cut. They called it Self Mutilation when I was younger. The therapist did. The emergency room said I was attempting suicide. I just wanted away from the drunk. He was so cruel. He called me a whore when I was eight. Told me I wasn’t his daughter. I just don’t know how she loved that man. He hurt her daughter, and still,”
Farrell placed a hand under my chin, ushering me to look up at him, “It was selfish of her. I will say that. Abuse, which is was; doesn’t stop the love. She probably hoped, and wished things would get better. With abuse the victim thinks, “Oh tomorrow is a new day. He, OR She will be different. They care. They’ve had a bad day. It’s excuses that keep it going. I’m so sorry you went through that. If you ever feel the need to cut again, please tell me. I don’t want your life to become so overwhelming, you resort to that.” He slowly picked up my wrist, and kissed the scars. “I’m always here for you, and so is Arcanum, and Emily. You have good friends.”
I smiled, and nodded, “I think I want to get Hope tattooed on my wrist. Recently the author we both love wrote on Facebook, “Hope is the belief that there is goodness, even if it is invisible for a time, and that it will come. Don’t lose hope.” That’s just stuck with me since I’ve read it.”
Farrell smiled, “Well if you feel as though you want to do it, I stand behind you.”
I smiled, and yawned.
“That’s your cue to get some sleep baby. We’ll talk more in the morning. I love you.” He kissed me. I kissed him back.
“I love you too.” I smiled. I fell asleep that night wondering how Arcanum was holding up.
(Side note: The quote from Sylvain Reynard, is indeed from his facebook page. I found it to be very touching. When people are in the darkest of times, hope is the light they seek. Just remember that.)