"Randy. We need to talk," I say.

He rises his head, looking me in the eye.

"I mean a serious conversation. Randy, I'm not sure that I nor Stan can do this anymore," I say.

"What do you mean?" Randy asks.

"I know you weren't any better when I was away. Randy, I love you, I really do. And I wish it was easier on me to know, if you love me and Stan," I say.

"Of course I do, Sharon!" Randy says.

"It's not that easy, Randy. Stan's taking after you and as much as you're sometimes one of the best men I've ever know, there are so many other things you, and especially Stan, shouldn't do. It's hard to keep this up, as much as I want to. I understand, I have things to fix and I can be a complete bitch to people, especially you," I say.

"Sharon. I don't understand," Randy says.

"I'm not sure, if this is working. Stan's moving away soon enough, I know. But. I can't help to think it might be easier if we either get you out of your problems or you live with them without me and Stan for a while," I say.

"Which problems to you mean?" Randy asks.

"I'm not going to soften this at all, okay? You're an alcoholic father that, maybe cares, but leaves it at that and never shows it in anything. Randy. I can smell the alcohol, as much as you want to hide it. I want this to work, like this used to. But it's hard to live in a house with an alcoholic and a coming alcoholic. Dealing with living with two people that have both depression and don't do anything most days is hard enough. I'm aware, I sound incredibly selfish, but it's so hard. And you don't even try. It's, what hurts. Stan does his best and I look up to it, really do. You don't. Your son shouldn't act like an adult, when you act like a child," I say.

"Sharon. It's harder than it looks," Randy says.

"I know it is. But why is our 17 years old son dealing with it better than you, a man with life experience?" I ask.

"It's hard to do, Sharon. Stan has to wake up everyday, he has school," Randy says.

"I got in for diagnosis a couple of days ago," I say.

Randy stops.

"I'm depressed as well, Randy. You don't see me complaining and drinking it away. You know, why? Because you're dealing with it in the first way you can see. Unlike you two. If I fall, the whole family comes with. I need you to try to do something about it other than sitting on your ass and drinking it away. I can't keep it up and Stan most likely can't either. Do you want your son to end up exactly like you? Then fucking use your legs that you were given, use the brain you use to drink shit and realise that being like you are is going to result in your grave soon, if you don't try to lighten the fuck up. Yes. I'm taking away your happy little drink but you'll thank me, when you realise how terrible it is for you," I say.

I stand up, looking at him.

"And as much as you will think I am a selfish whore, I don't care, I'm saving your fucking life. You don't have other ones, you've admitted to believing that this is the only life. Then why the fuck are you destroying it?" I ask.

He keeps starring at me.

"You understand me? Even if you don't, I don't give any fucks anymore. Now it just is, like it is. You can't change it, if you don't start now. Drinking will take you. Fuck it being your only escape. You can't escape the world you were born into. Not by hurting the form you have," I say.

I didn't even realise the tears before now.

"I've not told you anything because I know it's really fucking hard but this hurts you and me and if you don't care about us, this might ruin the life Stan will have. Your self pitying attitude will kill you and leave Stan to remember this, not as a home, but as a place, where he grew up too early. If the son takes care of everything he needs by 12 and takes you under his wing by 14, something is wrong. You can not say something is not wrong here. This is close to a child service case, Randy. And you are going to rehab, if you don't stop this," I say.

"I should have done that ages ago, I'm a terrible mother, a terrible wife and a terrible person," I say, full on crying.

"Sharon, no, nobody says that you are any of those," Randy says.

"Oh look. I wanted this to wake you up and instead here I am, breaking down," I say.

"I would've never guessed that it hurt you this much," Randy says.

He looks guilty, hugging me.

"I just... I feel like this is so selfish of me. I shouldn't have said anything," I say.

"No, it's better that you told me," Randy says.

He looks down.

"And you are right, like always. I should be acting like an adult, not a kid. For you and for Stan. I want to try, even if it's too late, I want to at least try," Randy says.

"Thank you, Randy. Thank you, thank you," I say.

Randy lets go of me.

"I-. No alcohol into the house until I think you can handle it. Promise?" I ask.

Randy nods.

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

~