“Dakota,” he could hear coming softly from the other side of the door.
He squinted his eyes, as if he could possibly shut them any tighter.
Someone rapped their knuckles against the door and called for him again, “Dakota.”
The person opened the door and walked into the room. She gasped at the sight of him sprawled out on the rocking chair, a wide bottle lay on its side on the wood floor in the hallway, an amber liquid slowly dripping from its mouth. She snatched it off the floor by its neck, hurried into the room, and slapped her brother-in-law across the face with dual intent. His eyes came open immediately and he glared at her.
“Dakota, how dare you come in here and disrespect your wife, my sister, and your daughter by pissing yourself away while everyone else is out there mourning them?” she scorned him.
“Marly, how dare you come in here at all with your accusations,” he said articulately, as he'd made a habit of visiting with his newest and closest friend, the amber harlot dressed in purple, every night since the passing of his wife.
He picked up a doll his daughter never got to hold and threw it at Marly.
“Get out!” he hollered.
She stepped backwards out the door like an injured bird with a frightened visage. He stood from the chair, following her, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“Make them all leave,” he begged her, taking hold of her hand.
“What?” she asked, shocked.
He dropped to his knees and pressed his eye to the back of her hand.
“Marly, please make them leave,” he begged. “I'm sorry. Please make them all leave. They can't be here right now.”
She looked down at the broken man slumped at her feet, then out at all the the eyes turned toward them. She let go of his hand and patted his head as she smiled weakly at all of the people.
“I'm sorry,” she said to all of them, “but I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. Dakota's not feeling well. He needs to be alone.”
“Thank you,” he whispered weakly.
The people filed out of the home, confused and anxious and sorry and sad. Marly knelt down on the floor in front of Dakota and brought his head up in her hands. His face was worn, his eyes full of disdain and sorrow.
“I'm so sorry,” Marly said. “What I said was insensitive. It's just... I was surprised that you, of all people, would drink so much... considering.”
“Considering nothing. I'm not getting behind any wheels. I'm not a complete idiot. I don't do stupid things like that. I don't take other people's lives in my hands and tear them into flaming metallic pieces. I don't rip children and spouses from people...”
“I didn't say you did,” she interrupted him. “I just said I was surprised.”
“I'm drinking because I don't want to think about it,” he said. “I'm drinking because I don't want to feel it, but it's not working. I'm only feeling it more, but at least I'll fall asleep.”
“Passing out and falling asleep are two different things, D,” she said. “You'll kill yourself drinking like that. I found an empty vodka bottle and another empty Crown bottle in the garbage. Dakota, sweetie, Sarah would not want you to live like this.”
He just shook his head.
“Timothy, will you help me get him to bed?” she asked her husband, who was gathering dishes.
He walked over and helped Marly pick Dakota up from the floor. They carried him to the bedroom and laid him on his back. Marly took off his shoes and put them in the closet while Timothy helped him with his jacket and tie.
“Thank you, guys,” Dakota said as they were leaving the room.
“It's nothing,” Timothy said.
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