Finding Libbie

by Deanna Lynn Sletten

  Over the past year, Larry had taken another construction job—this one full-time—and had rented a small apartment. While Libbie was gone, Jack had spent a lot of time with Larry, either at his apartment or at Larry’s favorite bar. Jack wasn’t much of a drinker, but he and Larry played pool or darts or just watched football on the small television in the corner of the room. Larry never judged Libbie, always asked about her, and never gave Jack advice. He would listen without judgement, and Jack appreciated that very much. Even though he could talk to his mother and father about anything, he felt that Larry understood better. It had helped Jack get through the times Libbie was gone, because without Larry’s friendship, he really believed he’d have gone crazy.

  By now, all the neighbors suspected that there was something wrong with Libbie. Jack never told any of them where she went, or why, not even June and Natalie who had both asked him outright where Libbie was. But rumors spread, and he was sure they all knew, or at least thought they did. He wanted desperately to protect Libbie from their gossip. She deserved that.

  One evening after they’d eaten dinner, Jack and Libbie sat on the sofa with Spence between them, watching a variety show on television. Jack glanced at Libbie, noticing how pale and worn she looked. She slept a lot—he figured it was because of her medications. But now that she’d been home a few weeks, she was doing all the cooking, cleaning, and laundry again. He helped when he could, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Libbie was still tired. At that moment, he wished they could go back in time to the day they were married and do everything all over again. He would have watched more closely for signs of her drinking, he wouldn’t have accepted the house, and then he could have spent more time with Libbie instead of always working. Jack reached across the cat and gently took Libbie’s hand in his. She turned her head and their eyes met, but she didn’t say a word.

  “Libs. Let’s sell this house and start over. We’ll buy a place we can actually afford so I can be home every night and we can be together more—like when we were first married. I want us to go back to being that couple again. I know we can do it. I love you. I want us to be happy again.”

  Libbie stared at him, expressionless. At first, Jack didn’t think she’d heard him, but then she finally answered.

  “We can’t go back to that, Jack,” she said, her voice a monotone. “We can’t wipe away what’s happened. I want to stay in this house. It’s familiar. I feel safe here.”

  Jack sighed. He lifted her hand and kissed it softly. “Whatever you want, Libs. I just want you to be happy.”

  He hoped they would be—someday.

  That spring, Libbie stopped taking her antidepressant. She was tired of being emotionless. She wanted to feel happy and excited. She wanted to remember what love felt like, but most of all, what being loved felt like. It was worth the risk of feeling depressed again. Even feeling depressed would be better than feeling dull and lifeless. She told herself she could manage without the pills. Libbie hadn’t drunk any alcohol since she’d come home from the center in January. She only took her Valium as prescribed. She could do this. She desperately wanted her life back.

  That’s when the arguing began.

  Libbie’s emotions returned with a vengeance. She angered easily, felt sad and sometimes even paranoid. She complained to Jack that he was never home. She had trouble focusing on any one project and never seemed to complete anything she started. Laundry would sit damp in the dryer, forgotten. Dirty dishes sat on the counter, not making it into the dishwasher. Dinner would burn. Libbie felt overwhelmed, and it turned into frustration and anger. Jack never complained to her, but she thought she saw resentment in his eyes over work left undone and she’d start yelling. Then the crying would start, the apologies, and she’d do it all over again.

  Libbie hated herself for the way she acted. That only fueled her rage more. No matter how hard she tried, she didn’t have control over her behavior, and that frustrated her more. Unfortunately, Jack bore the brunt of her frustration.

  Jack asked her if she was taking her medication, and she flew off the handle. “I can’t take that stuff anymore!” she yelled at him one night. “I might as well be dead than take it because it makes me feel dead inside.”

  “Libs, please. Take the medicine. You do so much better on it. We can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this. Please. Take your meds,” Jack begged, but Libbie wouldn’t listen to him. She believed what she’d said. She’d rather be dead than take the meds.

  Libbie and Jack spent more and more time apart. Often, he’d sleep on the sofa after a fight. Sometimes, Libbie wouldn’t talk to him for several days. Their relationship was shattering into a million pieces, one piece at a time, and yet neither one knew how to stop it. As long as Libbie refused to take her medication, they would continue to fall apart.

  Libbie’s jealousy over their neighbor returned. She would see Alicia wave to Jack some evenings as he came home or see her start a conversation with him. It didn’t matter that Jack barely talked to Alicia or that he came inside quickly—in Libbie’s suspicious mind something was going on between them. What had Jack done all those weeks she’d been away? Did he really just sit in the house, pining for her to come home? Seeing how beautiful Alicia was, Libbie doubted that Jack had ignored her the entire time she was at the center.

  Libbie kept a watchful eye on Jack and Alicia, and waited.

  Jack came home later than usual one evening in May, hoping, praying, that Libbie was already asleep so there wouldn’t be a fight. He’d called her at five to say he had a car to work on at his uncle’s garage and then he’d be home. She hadn’t seemed upset about it then, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t brooding about it now. Even though he’d been working late many nights ever since they’d moved into the house, she now complained that he was only doing it to stay away from her. For his part, Jack fervently wished Libbie would take her medication. Their lives weren’t perfect when she did, but they were better.

  And he was too tired to fight with her about it anymore.

  He’d talked to Libbie’s father about her refusing to take her medication, asking for his help, but Mr. Wilkens only brushed his concerns aside. “If she’s not drinking, then leave it be,” he’d said. “All you can do is be there for her. That’s your job, Jack, to take care of her. If she feels better not taking it, then you shouldn’t force her.”

  Jack felt frustrated and alone. He didn’t understand the complexity of Libbie’s problems, and no one seemed to have answers on how to care for her. Even the doctors were useless, prescribing pill after pill, none of which helped. All he could do was stick by Libbie and hope for the best.

  When Jack stepped through the door that night, his eyes met Libbie’s from across the room and he knew immediately that she was angry. Oh God. Not again.

  “Where were you?” she asked, her eyes flashing.

  “I told you, Libs. I was at the garage, working on a car,” he said calmly. He pulled the cash out of his pocket that the man had given him for repairing his steering. “See? Here’s the money he paid me.”

  Libbie’s eyes burned into him. “You’re lying. I called the garage and you didn’t answer.”

  “Come on, Libs. You know when I’m in the garage I don’t always hear the phone in the office. Especially with my head stuck in a car.”

  Libbie stepped closer. “You’re lying.”

  Jack studied her a moment. Her pupils were dilated and her face looked hard. “Have you been drinking?”

  Libbie moved so fast that Jack didn’t have time to step aside. She ran at him and shoved him hard. His back hit against the door, and it took him a minute to regain his balance. By then, Libbie was already across the living room.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jack yelled.

  “You were with Alicia, weren’t you?” Libbie yelled back.

  Jack ran his hand over his face. “For the thousandth time, I do not see Alicia. I’m not interested in her. I’m married to you.”

  L
ibbie glared at him. “Then why did Alicia just pull into her driveway minutes before you came home? That’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

  Jack shook his head and started walking toward the hallway. “I’m not doing this anymore. Have your fit. I’m going to have a nice warm shower and go to bed.”

  A glass ashtray flew across the room and hit the wall in front of Jack. He turned quickly and saw that Libbie had a ceramic figurine in her hand, ready to throw at him.

  “Get out! Get out of my house!” she yelled, throwing the figurine. It flew across the living room and crashed into tiny pieces on the floor. “I never want to see you again! I knew you were cheating on me with her. You’re going to send me away forever so you can be with her. I won’t let you. Get out!” She picked up a glass candy dish and threw it.

  Jack ducked as the candy dish sailed by. “Stop it, Libbie!” he yelled. “Stop it. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Why don’t you believe me? Everything I’ve ever done has been for you.”

  Tears streamed down Libbie’s face. “Get out! Get out!” She swayed and almost fell down.

  Despite everything, Jack came to Libbie’s rescue, grabbing her arm to steady her. He’d been right. She was drinking again. God help them.

  Libbie pulled away from him and started screaming again. “Get out! I hate you! I never want to see you again! Get out!” She flailed her arms and hit him over and over, pushing him toward the door. Jack had no choice but to back away from her.

  “I’ll go, Libs. Just stop yelling. I’ll go.” He strode outside and climbed up into his truck, then drove off.

  Jack didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Jack drove into town through the dark streets, not knowing what to do or where to go. Without realizing it, he found himself parked in front of Larry’s favorite bar. Jack walked inside and, sure enough, Larry was sitting there, drinking a beer. Jack sat down next to him and ordered a beer.

  Larry turned to him. “Something must be terribly wrong if you’re here at this time of night. What happened?”

  Jack dropped his elbows on the bar and ran his hands through his hair. He turned to his friend. “Libbie’s drinking again.”

  Larry shook his head. “Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

  “It was terrible. I walked in the door after working all day and all evening, and she just jumped me about Alicia again. I don’t even know where it all came from. She has it set in her mind that I’m screwing around with the neighbor, and she won’t let it go. I tried to talk to her, but she just erupted and started screaming and throwing stuff at me. She told me to leave, so I finally did.” Jack sighed. “I can’t take this anymore. It’s all too much. Nothing I do makes her happy. She’s angry and paranoid all the time. It’s so hard.”

  Larry picked up their beers and nodded for them to go sit in a booth over on the side where they could have privacy. Jack followed and sat heavily on the wooden bench.

  “Jack, you’re killing yourself over this. I’ve been silent all these years, but I can’t be anymore. Maybe it’s time to pull the plug. You know I love Libbie, but she just isn’t the girl you married anymore. I don’t know if it’s the drinking or not taking her meds, but whatever it is, she’s out of control and it’s killing you.”

  Jack stared at Larry in disbelief. He’d never said a bad word about Libbie no matter what Jack confided in him, but now he wasn’t holding back. “Leave Libbie? How can you say that? She needs me. I promised to take care of her, forever. How can I go back on that?”

  Larry leaned over and put his hand on Jack’s arm. “You have taken care of her. You’ve done everything for her. But she needs help, and it’s not the type of help you can give her. Do you honestly want to spend the rest of your life doing this? How many more times before you’ve had enough?”

  “But I love her,” Jack said, sorrowfully. “I’ve always loved her.”

  Larry sat back and said softly, “I know, man. But at what point is love no longer enough?”

  Jack sat there a long time, thinking about his friend’s words. He and Libbie no longer had the relationship they’d started with. He was right—she needed help—but how could Jack abandon her at a time when she needed him most? But he knew that he couldn’t keep doing this. Working all the time, the fighting, and the constant accusations. It was all too hard to live with.

  He finished his beer and stood up. “I’ll see you around, Lar.”

  “Tell me if there’s anything I can do, okay?”

  Jack nodded and left the bar. He got into the truck and headed home. He hoped Libbie had calmed down by now or maybe drunk herself to sleep.

  Jack saw the flashing lights the moment he turned into their neighborhood. Panic rose inside him. What has Libbie done?

  He pulled up to the house and jumped out of the truck. There was a police car in their driveway and several other cars parked haphazardly around. He recognized one as Mr. Wilkens’s car. Running now, he stepped into the entryway and his eyes instantly met Gwen’s across the room. She glared at him, her mouth set in a hard, thin line.

  “What happened? Is Libbie okay?” Jack took a step, and something crunched under his boot. He stopped and looked down. Glass was strewn all over the floor. Photo frames had been torn from the walls and tables and tossed about. Wedding pictures had been pulled from their frames and torn in half. Stunned, Jack bent down and lifted up one of the damaged photos. It was of him and Libbie, standing at the altar, smiling brightly at the camera. Now it was torn and crumpled, just like their life together.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Gwen said, stepping closer. “I thought you were gone for good.”

  Jack raised his eyes and stared at her. He wasn’t going to play games with her. “What happened in here? Where’s Libbie?”

  “Keep quiet,” Gwen said sharply. “She’s in the bedroom with Father and the doctor. I don’t want her to hear your voice or else she’ll freak out again.”

  “What are you talking about? Why are you even here? Why are the police here and the doctor?”

  Gwen drew even closer, her shoes crunching glass as she did. “A neighbor called the police when they heard Libbie in here screaming and breaking things. He said it sounded like you were killing each other. Thank God the officer knew who Libbie was, or else he would have hauled her off to jail. She was uncontrollable, throwing everything in sight and screaming at the top of her lungs. The officer called Father right away and he called me. By the time we got here, she’d destroyed pretty much everything. She screamed over and over that she hated you and never wanted to see you again. So if I were you, I’d leave right now.”

  Jack’s jaw tightened. “This is my house. I want to see Libbie. Now!” He turned to go down the hall but was stopped by Mr. Wilkens, who’d come out of the bedroom.

  “No. This is not your house; it belongs to Libbie. Only her name and mine are on the title. So you have no right being here. I want you to leave.”

  Jack stared at him in disbelief. “But I’m the one who’s paid the mortgage all these years. I live here. And I insist on seeing Libbie. I need to know she’s okay.” He tried pushing through Mr. Wilkens, but the older man stood firm.

  “I won’t have you upsetting Libbie again. The doctor has given her a sedative, and I won’t let you wake her. She made it perfectly clear that she never wanted to see you again. You’ve failed her, Jack. I trusted you with my daughter, and you broke your promise to take care of her. It’s over. Now get out, or I’ll ask the police officer to escort you out.”

  Jack slowly looked around him, stunned. Everything in sight was crushed, torn, or broken. He took a step back and looked down. He’d been standing on the blue topaz pendant he’d given Libbie one Christmas. The chain was broken, and the setting was bent. She’d destroyed everything he’d ever given her, everything that had anything to do with their lives together. His heart felt as crushed as the glass under his feet.

  Defeated, he turned and sl
owly walked out the door.

  Jack drove to Larry’s apartment south of town. He had nowhere else to go. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, so he didn’t want to go to the farm. Larry wouldn’t ask questions. So he found himself standing in the small entryway of Larry’s building, hitting the buzzer to be let in.

  “Hey? Who’s there?” Larry’s voice came over the speaker.

  “It’s me.” That was all he had to say. Larry buzzed him in.

  “Can I stay here tonight?” Jack asked when Larry opened his door and let him in.

  “Sure.” Larry found an extra pillow and blanket and set them on the tattered sofa. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  Jack shook his head. He was so drained he thought he’d drop on the spot.

  “That’s fine. Get some sleep.” Larry went off to his bedroom.

  Jack lay down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. What had happened? Libbie hadn’t meant it when she said she hated him. She’d been drunk. She needed to take her meds. Once she felt better, she’d realize it was all a big mistake.

  Somehow, he slept.

  Jack woke up at his usual time and heard the shower running. He folded the blanket and put the pillow on top of it, then headed out the door. Last night had been a nightmare. Libbie hadn’t meant what she’d said, he was sure of it. They loved each other, despite all that had happened. He’d go home and make up with Libbie, and then make sure she got the help she needed. Everything would be back to normal—well, at least the normal he’d become used to.

  When he drove up to the house, it was dark inside and the door was locked. He tried his key, but it didn’t work. Puzzled, he tried unlocking the garage, and that key didn’t work, either. He tried all the doors, and none of his keys worked. Jack frowned. It was only seven in the morning. How in the world did they get the locks changed so quickly?