“Sorry,” I mumble, turning back to fill my drink. I avoid looking at the glass panels this time. “I thought I saw something. I’m just a little on edge being here.”

Meisha comes over and rubs my arm. “Xanax.”

We both laugh.

Now that I’m equipped with a drink, I take her for the rest of the tour.

We avoid the attic.

“Well. That’s the house.”

“Wow, it’s really quite something, John.” She shivers as if suddenly chilled. “A bit spooky, too. I’m really glad we don’t have to think about living here. I’m not sure I could. It’s so…big.”

I would need all the booze in the world to be able to live in this house longer than a week.

We head out to the car to bring in the luggage. After it’s deposited in my parent’s room–no part of me will ever consider it our room though we’re sleeping in it for the week–Meisha grabs some snacks from the diaper bag for little Johnny.

“We need to start thinking about food for the rest of the day. And the week. Is there anything in the fridge here, John?”

“Ummm….” I realize that I haven’t eaten a thing since I’ve arrived, subsisting solely on alcohol. “Let’s go look.”

Meisha furrows her brow. “You don’t know what food is in the house?”

I put an arm around her shoulders and walk with her to the kitchen. “We just have different ideas of food, my love.”

“I forget that you can survive on ramen when needed.”

We share a laugh.

The pantry is stocked with enough dried goods and staples that we can put together what Meisha considers a “decent” lunch.

“I really don’t want a completely processed dinner. Even a pizza would be better and fresher,” she says once we’ve cleaned up from our early afternoon meal. “Would you watch Johnny, and I’ll just go now and shop for the week? Then I’ll be able to relax and enjoy our little vacation here.”

“Sure. We can find something to entertain ourselves with.” I haven’t had a drink since before lunch. Between the passing of time and the food, I’m already feeling more sober than I’d like to, but I don’t want to upset Meisha by drinking too much. At least, not in front of her.

“Great.” She grabs her purse and kisses us both. “I’ll be back soon. Johnny could use a little quiet time.”

We watch her pull out of the driveway from the front porch before grabbing the diaper bag and heading to the study. I lay a blanket on the floor and change his diaper. Then I scatter some of his colorful plastic toys around him and head to the cabinet to fill my glass.

The light gold liquid calms me as I take a large swallow and breathe out a content sigh.

“On your knees, John.”

I spin around. Mother stands in the doorway to the study. She’s in a black and red rockabilly halter dress. Modern updates of leather straps crisscross her waist and snake up around and between her breasts to join behind her neck. Black fishnet stockings adorn her legs. She stands gracefully on four-inch stilettos. Despite my son being in the room, I’m instantly hard.

She walks toward me with all the swagger and hip-swaying of a model walking down a runway until our faces are just inches apart. With the heels, her eyes are level with mine.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, John,” she whispers seductively. “If you do, I won’t be in a mood to take care of you later.”

I turn to set my drink down and obey.

“Oh, you can keep your drink.” Her head tilts. A fire glows in her pupils. She lifts the glass and sets it in my hand. “I wouldn’t deny you happiness.”

When the glass touches my palm, it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds and pulls me to the ground. I can’t take my eyes off Mother’s legs as she walks over to Johnny where he plays on the floor.

Several conflicting instincts war within me. Should I really allow Mother to get near my son? But why would she ever hurt him?

“Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?” she murmurs.

Little Johnny coos up at her in response.

She bends over from the waist, the dress lifting in the back to show me the half-moons of her ass cheeks, and picks up my son. I watch from my position of reverence on the floor as she walks around the room, cradling my son in her arms.

“You’re just perfect,” she whispers longingly to him.

I sip my scotch. When my glass is empty, she stands over me and pours me more.

“Good boy.” She pats my head.

* * *

“John,” Meisha calls out from the front entrance. “Can I get some help here?”

I blink as I come out of a stupor. Looking around, I find Johnny asleep on his blanket on the floor. I’m still on my knees. When I try to stand, my lower legs tingle painfully as blood flows back into them, and I end up falling forward onto my hands.

That’s a good look, John, Her voice whispers in my ear.

I push myself up and shuffle forward despite the pins and needles in my lower extremities. So as not to wake Johnny, I wait until I’m in the hallway to respond. “Coming, Meisha.”

The house spins around me. How much did I have to drink? I take a few breaths to steady myself.

Meisha comes out from the kitchen. “I’ve got more out in the – are you all right, John? You’re so pale.” Her eyes widen with concern.

“Yeah.” I scrub my face. “I just fell asleep next to Johnny, I think. And my legs took a hard nap, too. My feet are still numb.” I shake each one in turn to help the blood flow.

She laughs. “I hate it when that happens.”

I follow her out to the car and help her bring the last few bags in. She’d made good on her pizza idea. My stomach growls. Lunch wasn’t enough to make up for thirty-six hours of not eating while binge drinking.

We spend the afternoon outside on the expansive lawn, playing on the grass in the sun as a family. I feel more myself outside and didn’t even bring a drink with me.

Shortly after dinner, we put Johnny down for the evening in a pack-n-play in the bedroom with us behind a little room partition.

“Now, what can I do to help my husband relax?” As I sit on the bed, Meisha comes up behind me and begins rubbing my shoulders. “Your muscles are as hard as rocks.”

I close my eyes and relish the feeling of my wife’s hands on my body, lovingly kneading the tension away.

“Thanks. That felt good,” I say when she stops.