Labor Day

I saw it in her face. It was another holiday she had come to dread. It should be a time spent leisurely with family and little stress. It should be cook-outs, homemade ice cream, badminton games and conversation on the patio until the moon chased everyone home. What it has become is a day of dread. Holidays. Her life so tired by the dance of the drink. Her life so torn by the pull of the addiction in her home. I listen and smile offering a shoulder, an ear, a heart that cares. Can I fix it? I cannot. His voice becomes louder with each drink he ingests. A little more embarrassing for those who are sober. I follow to the kitchen for burgers on the grill. I tell her that I am glad to be here and the food looks great. She lets a little laugh escape from her throat. I stop and I wonder how long this has been? The nights she spends lonely or scared from his trip home. I look and I think to see the good. Years, upon years, it has stolen her life. She cleans and she scurries with the preparation of food. She wants the night to go alright. I ask for years she has endured. Sixteen, seventeen, she couldn't place an exact date. The liquid had come quickly and saturated her mate. She grasp a bottle from her cabinet up high. "I think he drinks this much each day." A bright shiny bottle with labels so fine. An orange tag says $13.88. I go to the shopping trips I have shared with my friend. The times she has worried about spending and having a good time. I calculate the numbers with speed in my head. I am angry. I am sad for a friend. Fifteen years of drinking this amount. 365 X 15 = 5475. 5475 X 13.88 =75,993. Astounding I think to myself. He fusses about wants, needs and stuff she has purchased . My eyes start to water as I place burgers on the grill. She offers more comfort to the guests of her home. I am sad. I should be helping her carry this load. I think about the next holiday, the next time spent together. I will offer to plan the next event of year. I cannot change her nights spent so lonely and scared. I can't give her the money wasted on a good time for one man. I can stop to see her and ask how she is. I will call her and tell her I care. I will pray for the miracle she is waiting to see. How's my dinner? Wonderful, I reply. She smiles and touches my arm. I know she is thankful for something to be wonderful.