ON GOING BACK HOME...

“So you’ve forgiven him. Again.” It was more a statement than a question. I didn’t answer her immediately. Her words provoked thought. Is that what it was? Forgiveness? Or was it something more subtle? The term ‘forgive’ didn’t quite fit. She waited in silence as I pondered my answer.

We were sitting on her stairs outside, watching the purple summer dusk settle over the tree-filled mountain facing her house. I knew she had wanted to ask much earlier, and if I changed the subject now, she would let it go. For the moment. That is what close friends do. I sighed. Might as well get it over with.

“I’m not sure forgive is the right word,” I finally said. “It takes two to tango.”

“Violence is not an answer.” Her voice was firm.

“You know that and I know that,” I replied. “But his training has been different. He has existed with it most of his life. For him, it has been the only way to survive.”

“Not with you! Never with you! You don’t deserve that!! Don’t make excuses for him!”

She was right, of course. If you looked at it in black and white, what he had done was inexcusable. But, as in with most situations, there were grey areas. Grey areas are difficult to pin down, let alone explain. I began to speak, feeling my way as I did so, raking my emotions into a little pile, then watching them scatter again, in an attempt to help both of us understand my decision to return home. She listened as I reminded her of the years of caring, money and work both he and I had invested in our relationship.

The relationship was not normal by any standards. There was the age-gap, the up-bringing, the family values (or lack thereof), the culture of our nationalities and, of course, our so very different attitudes when dealing with the ups and downs of life. We were the perfect example of ‘opposites attract’. Numerous compromises were required. To an outsider, I was the one making most of them. It was true. He admitted it himself, and also agreed that, of the two of us, I was the one most able to handle it. His strength lay elsewhere.

She was looking at me, her expression doubtful, but accepting. Close friends do that too – they don’t have to completely understand or support your reasoning – they love you anyway.

“I can’t help but worry. He could have killed you.”

“The key word is ‘could!” I soothed her. “But he didn’t. Even as drunk as he was, I don’t think he actually swung at me. And I gave nearly as good as I got in the tussle. If I was bigger or had his practise, he’d have been the one running.” I smiled at her. “Think of it as an Ozzy Osbourne-Sharon scenario.”

She frowned. “Yeh, well I think they’re both crazy, so that doesn’t help.” I could tell she wanted to say more, but she stood and gathered our wine glasses instead. “Time for a refill,” she said, then headed inside. When she returned, I took the glass she held out to me and waited until she sat down before I continued my explanation.

“Listen, he’s working again, everyday. He knows that the booze is his problem, and one of his ways of avoiding the booze is to be on the job. He’s too tired at night to even think about getting so drunk.” I could tell my comment did little to reassure her. Hell, I wasn’t sure myself, so I couldn’t blame her. I was having problems holding up my own end of the bargain we had made before reconciliation, and his was much harder to keep than mine.

“I’ve been trying to do my part too. I get home as early as I can; I’ve stopped working most of the weekends. It seems the more time we spend together, the better we get along. I was giving all my energy to my business, in huge part because I was fed up coming home to a drunken, mouthy idiot every night. And he was getting drunk because he was alone with his thoughts most of the time” I sighed, lowering my chin to rest on my hand. “It was like a vicious circle.” I hesitated, not wanting to relive it again. I was taking a huge chance going back, and I knew it. Yet……“He is such a different guy when he is sober.” I shook my head.

I felt her hand on my shoulder. “I know,” she sympathized. “They all are, but he takes it to the extreme. Still, if you’re sure you’ll be okay, and that’s what you want…”

This I could answer with certainty. “Yes, that’s what I want. And that’s what he wants too. We just have to work harder on it. Nothing worth having is easy, they say.”

“Okay, then!” She capitulated as she lifted her glass in a toast. “Here’s to you being back in your home that you love, surrounded by the mountains you love, with the dude you love!”

“And to the doggies I love! Don’t forget the doggies!!” We laughed together as the glasses clinked. It was time for another refill.