Diego didn't last five minutes in the car before he passed out. He smelt so strong of alcohol, I kept the windows down the whole drive. He was ecstatic when he saw I was still driving his car, despite his absence. I hadn't intended to, but it's hard to avoid the temptation when it's so much more convenient than taking the subway. I was even happy to pay for a parking spot. It was expensive, but I wasn't concerned. My mind was elsewhere.

He was so far gone, he didn't even budge when we arrived home. There's no way I could've carried him, and I didn't want to wake him, either. He probably needed his sleep after the days he's had. So, I left him in his car while I walked down the road to pick up the girls. By the time I came back, he was still asleep. He stayed in there for hours. I'd peek outside the front window every now and then, just to make sure he was still there and hadn't gotten sick. He wasn't sleeping peacefully, though. He had a scowl on his face the whole time.

I can only imagine what he's going through. I might have lost a parent, too, but not like this. I've never lost someone I was close with — mostly because I've never been close with anyone until the girls came along. But now I have them, and Karla and Diego, too, and if I lost one of them... I don't know what I would do. I would be beyond miserable. I'd feel... pain.

I suppose that's what he's feeling right now, too. He's hurting... like his whole body has been injured. But it's not his body that hurts. It's his insides — his head and his heart and who knows what else. He's suffering. And there's nothing I can do to help. There's nothing I can do to ease his pain besides be there for him.

He's in the shower right now. He came inside less than ten minutes ago, barely awake. He didn't say much, just asked for a shower. I told him we didn't have any hot water, but he didn't mind. He said the cold would be good for him. So, I gave him a towel and have been sitting here ever since, waiting for him to return.

I don't know what to do. The girls are already in bed. I don't know about Hayley, but Penny is definitely asleep by now. I've already prepared their lunches for school tomorrow and organised their clothing to take to the laundromat. I've done the dishes, and let out my nervous energy by cleaning the place to the best of my ability.

The shower shuts off after just a few minutes. I stay seated on the couch, impatiently waiting for him to re-enter the room. I try my best to keep my eyes away from the door, and only look up when it opens. He steps out of the bathroom, his hair still wet from the shower. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

"I hope you don't mind," he hangs his things over the back of the couch. "These clothes reek of booze."

"That's okay," I assure him.

"Were you waiting for me?" he eyes the room. It's completely empty. The TV is off and I don't even have my phone in my hand.

"I was, yeah," I admit. "I was worried about you."

"Oh, I'm okay," he shrugs. "Thanks for taking me home. Or, well... to your place. I was pretty out of it."

"Yeah, you uhm... definitely looked like you could use a break."

"Yeah, I guess so." He sits down beside me, gently bobbing his head up and down. It's probably pounding. I should offer him some painkillers. He already looks a lot better, though. He's looking more like himself, but that's mostly because he's half-nude. He looks his best this way — casual and relaxed. But he's far from relaxed. His shoulders are tensed up and his hands are trembling.

"How are you feeling?" I ask him.

"Not great," he says. "I haven't been on a bender like that in years."

"It was bad, huh?"

"Oh yeah," he nods. "Things got out of hand... too quickly."

"I saw you got arrested."

"You did?" he scowls.

"It was all over the news."

"Fuck, that's embarrassing," he drops his head. "Sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that shit. I shouldn't have done that shit."

"It's okay," I tell him. "I was just worried about you."

"I don't know..." he hesitates. "I didn't know what to do, how to respond, I just- I couldn't handle it. I lost it. I lost it completely."

"Hey," I place my hand on his knee. "It's alright, Diego. You don't have to explain yourself."

"Yes, I do. I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have done that shit."

"It's okay," I insist, but it's no use.

"I haven't had that much to drink in almost two years. I've been so good, and the second things get rough, I'm right back at it again."

"Things didn't just get rough," I quote him. "Things got bad. Things got as bad as they could possibly get."

"Still," he says. "I went right back to my old ways."

"You coped the best way you know how."

"I should've been stronger. I should've kept my shit together. Of all the things I could've done..."

"You can't beat yourself about it," I put my hand on his.

"I should've been there for my family," he continues. "I let them down before, and I just did it again."

"You didn't let anyone down," I insist. "Nobody can hold this against you."

"And if he saw how I treated you... he'd be so pissed."

"You didn't treat me bad at all."

"You don't need to make me feel better," he scoffs. "I walked out on you. I left you alone in the hospital. I disappeared for days. I wasn't there for you."

"You didn't have to be. I'm the one who's supposed to be there for you. That's all I was worried about. I just wanted you to be okay."

"It's pathetic. No man should do that shit. No man should leave his girl like that. No one should leave his family like that, just because he's too much of a pussy to face his own shit."

"No, Diego," I shake my head. "You were grieving. Your whole world just shattered. You did what you had to do to get by."

"It's pathetic. I should've done better. I need to do better. I can't do this shit again. I need to do better."

"Hey, hey," I wrap my arm around his waist. There's too much emotion in his voice. He's on edge. "It's okay. You're doing just fine."

"No, no," he shakes his head. "My dad- My dad would be so disappointed in me."