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She's significantly more family to us than my blood ever was, especially after I cut ties with my greedy relatives.
Her being here, it's a relief I can hardly put into words.
Sitting here, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, I can't help but feel a heavy sense of depression sinking in.
It gnaws at me, the realization that my blood family only saw dollar signs when they looked at me, not the man or the father I strived to be.
And Joyce, Timmy's mother, was cut from the same cloth.
That one-night stand turned my world upside down when she showed up nine months later, saying I would be a dad.
But her eyes weren't filled with the joy of bringing a life into this world, they were filled with greed, seeing me as nothing more than a paycheck.
I ensured she wouldn't be a part of Timmy's life, not in a way that mattered.
A hefty chunk of change in exchange for her signature on a contract and an NDA, and just like that, she was gone.
Maybe I was too harsh, but I've seen firsthand what greed can do to people, and I wasn't about to let my son be raised in that environment.
Mrs. Carolyn has been our rock through all this.
She was just the neighbor back in Boulder Springs, our former small-town home, but now, she's family.
She even moved here with us from Boulder Springs. When I was clueless, she showed me the ropes of being a dad.
She's been there, from feeding Timmy to ensuring he slept safely at night and baby-proofing the house. I would've been lost without her.
I owe this woman more than I can ever repay. Her guidance has made me the father I am today.
Taking another sip, I try to shake off the dark thoughts. But it's hard.
It's hard not to feel like you're drowning when you've got a past heavy enough to pull you under.
After becoming good and buzzed, I start feeling somewhat better—enough that now I want to step outside for some nice fresh air on this incredible night.
I turn my head towards the door and could swear that I saw Dr. Marlene, or someone who looks like her from the back, walk out.
I hurry towards the door and step outside the bar to see a woman walking toward the same forest green Buick Century parked outside Dr. Marlene's office.
"Dr. Marlene?"
I call out curiously, as the woman whips around in surprise, her wavy brown locks swinging when she turns to face me.
It is her, and for some reason, she looks so beautiful to me tonight.
Maybe because the alcohol puts me in a better mood, and not sitting on her couch for therapy isn't putting me in a foul mood.
"What are you doing here?"
I ask, taking a few hesitant steps towards her.
The pale moonlight filters down, accentuating the confusion dancing across her features.
"I was just dropping something off for Sam, the owner. We've been friends for years. But I'm heading home now."
Dr. Marlene explains, clutching her purse a little tighter, perhaps a subconscious barrier between us.
I can't quite pinpoint why the idea of her leaving stokes a flicker of disappointment.
