I Am Trying to Help You

He locks her in the closet

For six hours

Until she stops screaming

There are marks in the door

From where she teared

And clawed

And punched

And kicked

Until she settled down

The website said this would happen

That she would get bad

And that the best thing to do was leave her in the bedroom

But in the bedroom she took one of her shoes

And broke a window

She picked up the broken glass

And put a piece of it to her throat

The only thing that got her to put it down

Was the promise of another relapse

After nine hours of detox

The website said he should bring her to a hospital

But try getting her in the car

It was like trying to get a cat in the bathtub

And she might have killed him in the process

So he cleared out the closet

Threw a few bottles of water in there

Carried her in while she was calm

Right after her fix

And set her down nicely

Shutting the door quietly behind him

Then up went the chair against the knob

And down he sat

To wait

The website said this was a bad idea

But the website was vague

It said 'maybe'

What good were 'maybe's in a situation like this?

This could happen

That could happen

Things could happen

Anything could happen

Everything could happen

Maybe

Maybe

Maybe

He thought about praying

But he couldn't remember a single prayer

Except for 'Please'

She sounded like something was attacking her

Like she was possessed, damaged

Dying, being destroyed

Slowly and painfully

He felt like a parent

Listening to its child cry

Knowing it was better

To leave her alone

Except in this case it might not be

But what was the alternative?

Therapy had failed

Threats had failed

Begging had failed

He had failed

He had failed most of all

She called him names

She cried

She pushed her sickness under the door

For him to look at

And asked how he could leave her alone with it

Because it beat me, he thought

It beat me and got to you

No matter how tall I made yourself

No matter how steadfastly I stood in its way

It beat me

The door pushed up against the back of the chair

Again and again and again

And then stopped

It stopped

It stopped

And was it over?

He stood up

He put the chair back

He knocked lightly on the door

And waited for her to come out

He could hear her crying

Slapping the floor lightly

Drinking the salt

Coming down from her eyes

He imagined, he imagined

He put his head against the door

And imagined he'd never see her again

He imagined proms and birthday parties

And weddings and grandchildren

And a four pound lightly dusted angel

Arriving two days before Christmas

Nineteen years ago

From there to here, he thought

From there to here

And quietly, but enough so that she could hear

He said--

'I am trying to help you'

Trying

I am

To help

You

Like the words could go in any order

And still mean nothing

'I'm trying' he said

'I'm trying'