Free Strange Magic by Gord Rollo Page B

been wanting to ask you something. It’s been so long since you lived with us, are we ever going to be a real family again?”
    Her candor temporarily stunned him. It was amazing how fast she was growing up. Instead of brushing her openness aside, he thought it over for a minute, giving it the serious consideration it deserved. Finally, he took hold of her little hand.
    “Listen closely, sweetie. I know you don’t quite understand the reasons why Mommy and Daddy aren’t living together, but you have to realize…no matter what, we’ll always be a real family. Nothing will ever change that. You and your mother will always be special to me. I’ll never stop loving you. Never! Do you understand what I’m saying?”
    “I think so. I love you too, Daddy.”
    “Why thank you. That’s all I needed to hear. Although we still have some big hills to climb before we can be back together, as long as we keep loving each other, I just know we’ll find a way to work things out.”
    “Do you really think so?” she asked, her innocent eyes widening with renewed hope.
    “Why sure I do, and so should you. There’s an old saying that no matter how large or overwhelming the obstacles are, never give up because love can overcome anything.”
    Maybe a bunch of crap and not the greatest words of wisdom ever passed along, but at least he’d tried to clear up his daughter’s concern. Whether she understood or not, it seemed to please her. He kissed her again and stepped quickly from the car, not wanting Amanda tosee the tears forming in his eyes. He wasn’t convinced there would be a quick reconciliation and didn’t want the child to see his reflection of uncertainty. Without looking back, he ran to the front door, hurriedly unlocked it, and slipped inside.
    The familiar stench of alcohol immediately assaulted his nostrils as soon as he closed the door. It was barely detectable, probably most people wouldn’t notice, but he did. To him, the carpets and walls smelled of vodka, as did the furniture and drapes. In fact, the odor seemed to drift toward him, almost stalking him within his own home. It was as if the entire house exuded vodka, sweating out of every tiny crack, like syrup running from a maple.
    Welcome home , the ghosts of his past failures whispered. We missed you…
    He ignored his conscience easily enough, but it was harder to disregard his nose. The sickly sweet odor repulsed him, causing his stomach to turn over, yet at the same time, exciting his thirsty taste buds and drawing beads of perspiration on his wrinkled brow. He followed his nose down the front hall to the cluttered kitchen, where the half-filled bottle patiently waited, still sitting on the counter where he’d left it yesterday morning.
    Wilson vowed he would leave the familiar clear poison untouched, especially after the wonderful progress he and Susan had made, but once again he’d forgotten how powerful a disease alcoholism can be. Wilson soon found himself reaching for the bottle. As the liquid fire touched his eager lips, he was already loathing himself for being so weak, so stupid. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the front door swing open.
    It was Susan.
    “It’s just me, Wilson. I was wondering if you needed me to iron your suit for church—”
    She cut herself off midsentence, utterly shocked to see him with a bottle of booze. Her initial surprise quickly turned to anger. After all, he’d only been alone in the house for a few minutes. Didn’t he have any control at all?
    “Susan? What are you doing—?” Wilson started, childishly trying to hide the evidence behind his back.
    “You bastard!” she cried. “Here I thought we were getting somewhere. Stupid me, I should have known better. All those sweet things you just said to Amanda about love and hope, were they all lies?”
    “Of course not, Susan, please don’t think that. Look! I’ll pour it out…here, you can watch.”
    Wilson quickly moved to the sink and upended the