Look, I appreciate your concern, but, really, I’m OK. He’s not going to hurt me again.
Yes, I know it’s not the first time he’s said he’d change … not the first time he’s said it won’t happen again … that he’ll stop drinking … that I can trust him … that he really loves me. I know.
But, seriously, I think he really means it this time. I mean, look: he went and got help. Real help. Professional help. That month he just spent in rehab … I mean, c’mon, that’s a big step. He’s making a real effort. He’s so different this time. Just look at him.
Can’t you see that it’s really gonna be different this time around?
No, I haven’t forgotten what happened in ’96. Ugly. Very ugly. After making me believe for all those years that the magic would never end, he just … just cut things off, so … so abruptly. Yes, some very nasty things were said. It was awful. And then … then, that whole thing in ’98 … when he tried to convince me it was the real deal again, when I just knew it wasn’t.
Yes, I remember that thrashing he gave me in ’04. Years of silence suddenly broken by the reunion for which I had so longed. My long-shattered faith was restored. The magic was back. The ’96 trainwreck wasn’t the end after all. I was so happy. He sucked me in good that time, only to turn around and blow it all to hell.
It’s been a bumpy ride since then. The unpredictable behavior, the boozing, the lashing out, the downward spiral, bad decision after bad decision. Yes, I had pretty much written him off, too.
But now … well, how can I not give him another shot? How can I turn him away? I mean, as bad as it ever was, he’s given me so much joy, touched me in a way that no one else ever could. How can I not take the chance? I have to. I have no choice. I want to believe.
Please, Ed … do the right thing. For me. For us. I’m begging you.