Demi

The car ride to Los Angeles was silent. I kept my hands folded in my lap and stared out the window, trying to keep in the scream that was intent on clawing itself out from my throat. Wilmer had both hands on the steering wheel, gripping it so hard his knuckles were white.

I tried to calm myself down, and not panic at the thought of going back into another treatment program. Mike Bayer's program was looser than Timberline Knolls, but stricter in some aspects. I would be allowed no visitors, no cell phone, no credit cards, and no car keys. I would attend therapy every day, whether it be individual or group. I would have a meal plan, and set times that I could leave the house.

I wouldn't see Wilmer for two months.

That would undoubtedly be the hardest part. Even though he hated me, I still loved him with every inch of my soul. I still woke up every morning and couldn't wait to see him. I could dream that tomorrow would be the day he'd forgive me, but now that all had to be put on hold. I wouldn't wake up tomorrow and walk down the stairs to see a smiling Wilmer holding coffee; I would see Mike, with my designated breakfast.

Soon enough, we pulled onto the street that Mike lived on, and arrived at the big white house at the end of the block. Once Wilmer cut the engine we both sat there for a few moments, the silence full of a tension so thick it was hard to breathe.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and took a slow, deep breath.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

I met Wilmer's eyes and pulled my bottom lip in with my teeth; they still weren't my Wilmer's eyes. They still were cold, and dark. They didn't sparkle like they used to, or hold love and laughter. He was an empty shell of the man I married.

"Yes."

Mike was waiting for us at the front door, and he smiled gently, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Hey Dems."

"Hey." I breathed, relaxing in his embrace.

I felt Mike's body tense. "Wilmer."

"Mike."

The larger man pulled away from me. "Demi, why don't you take your things up to the blue room? I'd like to talk to Wilmer."

"Okay."

I took my suitcase from Wilmer and walked into the house, pausing when I turned the corner at the stairs to listen to them.

"How could you do this to her?"

"You don't know anything, Mike. You don't know what it was like."

"I know exactly what it was like. I send people to treatment centers every day. I send people I care about to those places every damn day."

"She betrayed me-"

"She did not lie to you! She was honest about what she was and what could happen from the start! Never did she promise not to relapse! Never did she promise to be the perfect drug addict!"

"She could've came to me! She knew that!"

"She is an addict Wilmer! Before you even proposed to her I explained that this could happen, that she would keep things from you and you'd find out!"

"Mike-"

"No! It's my turn to talk, Wilmer. You've been talking for the past two months and it clearly hasn't worked. You abandoned her. You left her alone in that treatment center when you know damn well the only reason she made it out last time was because you pulled her though it. You know how much she leans on you. You know how much she needs you. The only reason I allowed it was because you swore to me you'd never do exactly what you did. You promised me on your life you would take care of her, and love her, and never leave her like her father did. You need to do some serious soul searching while she's here because if she goes back into that toxic environment, she won't make it. You're toxic for her. You need to figure out if you really want that woman. The woman who hasn't taken a step away from your side in eight years. If you find that you don't want her, feel free to send the divorce papers."

The door closed and I quickly ran up the stairs, tears filling my eyes as I watch from the window Wilmer walking to his car and driving away. A few moments later, Mike appeared in the doorway.

"Hey kiddo."

"I'm twenty-six years old." I whispered. "I'm not a kid."

"You'll always be a kid to me."

I tried to formulate a smile, but it ended up as a broken grimace and I sat down on the bed. "Mike, I need him."

He sat next to me and let me lean my head on his shoulder. "I know Dems, but he has to realize that he needs you too."

Tears ran down my cheeks in rivers. "He's my husband. He's supposed to be here doing this, not you. He's supposed to be helping me, like he promised, not you."

"I know, Dems. I know."

"You don't know." I sobbed. "You don't know how hard it is. He is everything, Mike. He is absolutely everything to me."

~*~

"So, Demi, anything you'd like to share today?"

I glowered at the therapist as she prompted me in front of the group of women who were supposedly struggling through the same things I was.

"No."

"Well we've been talking a lot about dealing with being away from our family, who's the one person you're missing most?"

I looked down at my hands. "My husband."

"That's what Abigail said, you two have something in common!"

My anger spiked and I sneered at the woman. "Did Abigail's husband drop her on the doorstep of a treatment center? Did he proceed to never visit her? Did he send back every letter she sent him begging him to come just so she could see his face?"

"No." A voice different from the therapist answered and I turned to see a woman with green eyes smiling at me. "My husband committed me for twenty four hours when he found drugs in my closet, and then took my kids to New York. I can't afford a plane ticket so I haven't seen them in six months."

My anger was flooded with sympathy. "I'm sorry."

Abigail shrugged, giving me a small smile before her eyes turned back to the therapist.

"Well... Janie, is there anything you'd like to share?"

~*~

"Demi, you have to at least make an effort."

"I am making an effort." I argued back with Mike. "I go to every therapy session you tell me to go to, I talk, and I cry."

"But you're still taking the anti-depressants."

"Because I'm depressed." I growled. "I'm depressed because my husband fucking hates me."

"He doesn't hate you." Mike said gently. "You're both not in good places."

"I was in a good place." I whispered. "Before I went back to that house."

"I know, but now you're both hurting and you both need more time to deal with everything. You've both said things you didn't mean and you both hurt the other."

I shook my head and looked out the window. "I just miss him."

"I know." He said, sitting down beside me. "And I guarantee he misses you, he just needs to accept that for himself. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

I want to believe that Mike is right, I want to believe more than anything that Wilmer misses me just as much as I miss him. I want to believe that he is waiting for me at home with open arms, ready to start loving me again.

"And you'll see him soon enough. You go home next week!"

I bit my lip hard, grounding myself to stop my lips from spilling the secret I've kept up from everyone.

I've spent eight weeks at Mike's sober living house.

Eight weeks away from Wilmer.

Eight weeks of lying to everybody.

It's been eight weeks, and I am definitely pregnant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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