The Drinker #2

He was acting jiggy when I told him where my mom worked.
Realized she knew a couple things about law, he went beserk.
Confessed one night he was a criminal record
For assaulting a cop outside a Hull bar.

“Well you sure know how to pick them,” my mate said.
And my guy friend warned stay clear of men who hit.
But after signing for a condo together after 2 months and a little bit
I got to see his ways after drinking and shutting down, and interference.

Unlike The Drinker #3 who persisted in pickling and didn’t stop drinking
Drinker #2 knew when to shut it down, retreating
But if you dared wake him up while he was fast asleeping
Holy hell would break loose, fists and insults: Raging.

“You fucking bitch, I’m trying to sleep, fuck off, alright”
was his greeting to me slipping into my own bed one night.
Delirious and interrupted, he voiced his fire
I laid stiff as stone scared shitless in fear: petrified.

“But it’s my house,” I whispered. Stupid woman, shut just it.
And he bolted up and got dressed, swearing a storm that vicious.
And he grabbed his keys to leave me to sleep in the car in the garage
And I was so scared I called Drinker #3 to help me in the wreckage.

When Drinker #2 came back, cuz he had chucked a key he needed
I had the chain on the door, and he insisted on my unlocking it
When I didn’t he used his hockey/carpenter hands, bashed it in loudly
Ripped the chain off the wall, grabbed key from the floor and left again.

That time he did it again in Chelsea
And I stupidly rang Drinker #3 in fear and reaching
He chucked me out in winter on the snowy streets
I could have died in a snowbank, but fated Blue Line taxi

Took me home for $23 dollars and a smoke
My hand was cut and bloody from falling in the snow
I wore no socks in my midnight run amock
But I landed back in Ottawa shocked and dumb.

The next day I gathered up his things in the den
And he came and was pissed that I thought it was the end.
He said in a marriage you’re not to give up so easily as this
And that I was weak for showing him the door and conclusion.

And so we stayed together, and my Mom said:
It was both of us were dumbasses “but never do that to my daughter again.”
I hadn’t even wanted to drink that night we caved in
He went to play hockey on the pond and while I cozied by the fire, tucked in.

But when you’re with a drinker and you imbibe two
The monsters come out and no one is setting the rules.
And I stayed gone finally and he begged and begged for my news
He said he was sorry, his friends would support him in quitting booze.

But I stayed gone because a man must quit for him not some woman.
He later went off to knock up a few women in the town.
Finally landed in marriage with a woman with kids of her own.
I reckon he’s happy, had told me at 33: he wanted that world.

And I bet she is the woman who helps him be less of a drinker.
I’d rather push my man toward triathlon or a concert –
Than be responsible for his redemption.

Sylvie Hill, Montreal, June 9, 2019