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Chapter Eight - April 30

Step Twelve - Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principals in all our affairs.

There comes a point when you visit the hospital so regularly that it becomes a second home. Not the type of home that you want to walk in, curl up on the couch, and watch TV. It's more like the type of home where you count the days until you can move.

Alexis and Jonah were doing better each and every day. I attribute part of that improvement to the fact that Ro was finally able to go and see them. When I would wheel her into the NICU, the whole vibe of the room would change. When she looked at them she radiated a love that I can't even describe.

Both Ro and I had the opportunity to hold them the other day. It's not the first time I've held a baby, but there is no comparison to holding your own child, especially one so small. Alexis fit practically in the palm of my hand. I could feel her heart beating as if only a thin sheet of onion skin paper was holding it inside. Her black hair was spiking out. She already looked like a punk rocker in the making.

There was a special bond between Jonah and Ro that I couldn't place. That's not to say she didn't love them both equally, but when she held Jonah it was like they were sharing something that only they could understand. Maybe it was the fact that both of them had been on the verge of death, I don't know. All I knew was that she would whisper to him and cuddle him and he would suddenly seem stronger as if she had blown a little more willpower into him.

It came as a surprise to both of us when the doctor walked in this morning and announced that Ro could go home.

"What about the babies?" Ro asked.

"They need more time."

I secretly had begun to hate that word. Time. It didn't move fast enough.

"You can recooperate in your bed at home just as well as you can here," the doctor said gently.

"But she can't get here everyday to visit the NICU," I said. I wanted her home so badly it hurt, but I knew where her priorities were.

"Honestly, we have no reason to keep her," the doctor explained. I was pretty sure that was lingo for 'we're short on beds.'

After a two-hour visit in the NICU, Ro had no choice but to let me take her home. She could stand, but not for long. Her bruises were fading to that sickly yellowish color and every now and then she'd wince in pain when she moved wrong.

I had moved back home (with Ro's permission), in the last week. The first thing I had to deal with were messages on the answering machine from the county prosecutor and the police. The drunk driver, 22 year-old Trace McTosh, had walked away without a scratch from the collison. In between hospital visits, I had been at the police station to pass along medical reports and to give any other information I possibly could while they investigated the case. At the moment, I was grateful to have my family alive. I just hoped that whatever sentence Trace was given included an alcohol program.

The first night I had gone back to the house, the wine cabinet had fallen victim to all of the stress, pain, and anger that was bottled up inside me. I had flung bottles against the wall, poured the liquor down the sink, cursed into the air until my throat ached, and smashed the cabinet until it was nothing but small splinters. I knew I could never look at alcohol again without picturing Ro lying in that hospital bed. I couldn't escape from the 'that could have been me' reality of the situation. When mom had come in the next morning, I was sleeping by the mess I made. She didn't say anything, just quietly helped me clean it up and then gave me a needed hug.

A few days ago, both my mom and Ro's mom had gone back home. With Ro on the mend, both had jobs to get back to. Ro was completely dependant on me and that thought hung heavy in my mind as I helped her into the house. I had turned my game room, aka my 'man cave,' into a bedroom downstairs. The bathroom was straight across the hall, just a slow shuffle away. She looked around at the walls - the dart board, the poster of the model draped over a Harley, and my giant moose ass. She smiled.

"Quite a bedroom," she said. "Where'd you put the pool table?"

"Basement," I said.

Ro sighed and closed her eyes. Her lips barely moved, every now and then her words still became mumbled.

"Promise me you'll go see them everyday and report back to me, okay?"

Her mind was back at the NICU. I sank down on the bed and took her hand.

"You don't even have to ask. Of course I will. Is there anything I can get you?"

She shook her head 'no.' I sat with her until she faded off to sleep. The painkillers she was taking made her fall asleep at the drop of a hat. I watched her sleep for a half hour and then got up and headed upstairs.

When I had strolled through the empty house, one of the other things I had noticed (besides the wine cabinet)was the half-finished nursery. Only the trim had been painted and the carpet laid. After the long days spent at the hospital, I was plagued with insomnia. I had taken it upon myself to finish painting and assembling all the furniture. Each day I'd work until I was so exhausted that my mind forced me to shut down. Today I walked in and surveyed my progress. It was almost done. The walls were painted a light yellow with brown trim. I had found two wall decals in the shape of huge palm trees that I slapped on the wall. With white paint I wrote Alexis and Jonah's names down the trunk. The rest of the room can only be described as wall to wall monkeys.

Today I plopped myself down and began to assemble the cribs. Let me tell you - the mo-fo's that write assembly instructions can kiss my white ass. Unless you're Einstein or Chinese you aren't going to figure them out. Luckily, I'm pretty good at sticking screws in holes so I finally tossed the instructions and just began to build. By the time I had the first crib done I was sweating profusely but feeling pretty good.

I took a break to wash my face and pits. I checked in on Ro. She was staring at her phone. More than likely it was the picture of the twins.

"You want something to eat?" I asked. She looked up surprised. I smiled.

"Anything you want. No hospital food."

Ro thought a moment.

"Ice cream?"

I would have gone to the North Pole and back for ice cream if I needed to. Luckily a run to the quick mart was enough. I came back with three different flavors and made an ice cream sundae that seriously could put Dairy Queen out of business. Ro's eyes widened when I walked into the room.

"What's that?"

"A sundae," I said. I set down the tray.

"For who? The jolly green giant?"

I laughed and brought out two spoons.

"I'll help you."

We dug in. At first we just ate quietly, enjoying the cold sugary sweetness of the ice cream. After awhile, Ro paused.

"J?"

"Yeah?"

"I just want to tell you how sorry I am."

I looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

She dipped just the tip of her spoon in the ice cream and then brought it to her mouth.

"I wasn't fair to you. I know I said you were crazy, but I did push you away through all this."

I sighed. "That's in the past; don't worry about it."

Ro shook her head. "I'm worrying about it. You've groveled and apologized for what you did. Now it's my turn."

I smiled. "Apology accepted."

We looked at each other and I had the strangest flashback to our wedding day. Our first year of marriage had been no less than a trip through Dante's Inferno. Now with everything that had happened since, I felt like we were finally getting a second chance.

"I love you skulleez," Ro said lightly. My heart tripped over itself.

"I love you too monkee."

I leaned down and kissed her. The return kiss brought back all the reasons why I had fallen in love with her in the first place.

And now I was falling all over again.