Faber stared down his wallet, feeling a bit dizzy - that was, after all, what the booze was doing to him. He found that he still had plenty of money left to keep buying a few drinks of his own. After all, going to the pub without any money to pay, that would be a bit embarrassing.
Then again, it was embarrassing that he sat there in the first place. His kids were still at home, and they basically didn’t care about him anymore. That was justified, of course, since Faber had neglected them for the alcohol for the past two years now. And he did want to stop. He wanted to stop every morning when he woke up with a headache and his kids refused to talk to him because they were so angry. Then again, they hadn’t been talking for a long, long while, because of that anger in the first place.
“More, please,” Faber gestured to the bartender. “Another beer.”
When Faber drunk the beer, he forgot. Or at least, he tried to, desperately. But sometimes it seemed like he would only remember more, the more he would try to forget.
As he stared in his beer, he saw shades of the past. Shades of a time when he was a stronger man, when he wasn’t the drinker he was now.

“Hi Robyn, this is Faber,” the proud father said when he had dialed her number.
“Finally!” Robyn replied, laughing. “I’ve been sitting with the phone next to me for hours. Tell me, how –“
“DID SHE GIVE BIRTH?” Faber heard from the other side of the line so loudly that he moved the phone away from his ear in order to prevent hearing damage. “Put it on speaker, woman! You know I want to hear it too! Don’t be so egocentric to just-“ Faber heard before she was cut short. Apparently, Robyn had complied.
“Better that way?” he heard from Robyn.
“Hi, Gloria,” Faber laughed.
“Did she give birth?” Gloria repeated, this time a bit calmer than previously.
“Of course she did,” Faber said. “She’s all right, both of you,” he said, trying to soothe them. He locked eyes with his wife, who was lying in the hospitalbed, breathing in and out slowly. He smiled at her - she smiled back. His ginger miracle, with her beautiful eyes. He was so proud of Katherine.
He gestured at the phone and mouthed ‘Gloriobyn’ which was his portmanteau name for the lesbian couple. Katherine nodded.
“Right now, she’s calming down, but she’s all right. Alive. You two both need to stop worrying. You want to talk to her?” Katherine shook her head immediately after hearing Faber ask that.
“Okay,” Faber quickly added, “she doesn’t want to talk to you. Don’t take it personally, she’s just a bit tired. She did give birth, and I’ll tell you more – she did it twice. That’s how awesome my wife is. What would I do without her.”
“Twice? You mean… you two got twins?” Robyn asked.
“Yeah,” Faber confirmed, with a smile, “a boy and a girl. They’re called Andrew and Regan, and the nurses are putting both of them away in their cribs.”
“Oh my God! That is so awesome! Congratulations! I’m giving both of them my love, and I hope Katherine’s good! Sending you my happiness!” Gloria shouted.
“Yeah, you got plenty to spare,” Faber laughed. “Hey, listen, I’m going to hang up now. Kathy needs me. Speak to you girls later.”
“Tell Katherine we’re sending our love,” the calm voice of Robyn said. “Best of luck.”
“Goodbye, both of you,” Faber said as he put the horn down.

Faber looked in the glass of beer again, trying to grasp what was behind it. Maybe the beer had made him hallucinate, but he found it unlikely. He saw what he so desperately wanted to see. Shadows of the past. Of a past that had ended two years ago, a past that was still too painful. A past where everything was okay, when they were happy, and the family was complete.
How he missed Katherine, his wife, his beautiful wife.
He went over the stubbles on his chin again. Back when his wife was alive, he never had them, but now, he had them almost every day as he felt too lazy to shave. Too lazy, and having too much of a headache. And even the hangover wasn’t enough to stop him from going back to the pub that evening. Some days, he would actually be sober, and those were the good days. But they were rare.
Breast cancer. It came into their life and it never really left. No matter how many doctors they visited, it didn’t matter as Katherine was decaying every day. Until finally, the doctors decided that it was enough and she got euthanasia, leaving Faber and his two children.
They can take care of themselves. They’re old enough for that. I know that. Why shouldn’t I drink? I have the right, I’m a grown man!
That voice inside his head kept pushing him. The part of him that got him to come back to the pub every single time. The part of him that got him to neglect his kids. The part of him that made him believe that the alcohol really would help, some day, which was why he kept trying.
Back when his wife was alive, he was a strong and healthy man. Black hair, which both his kids inherited, and a firm build. Faber had been on boxing for a few years, and that showed. But, as he began to drink more and more, more and more of him changed to the man he was now. Katherine would be terrified to see him now.
After she died, the three of them promised that they would move on as a new family. Faber promised he’d try and be a father and a mother to them both, and they both agreed.
That took about three months until a friend of his took him down the pub. Before that, Faber had always disagreed, disliking alcohol and beer, and being unable to because he had a wife and children. But his friend kept pushing him, until Faber eventually gave in. His kids didn’t want him to go - maybe they intuitively knew what would come.
Faber found out he liked it, and it didn’t take him long to find out that there was a pub from walking distance of his home. So he got there every day after another three months, and his kids’ hate began.
And Faber responded by drinking more, and finding out he was lost in the booze. The first hits came a year after Katherine’s death. When Faber drunk, he turned into a monster, as he found out. And now, he was stuck. Every morning, when he found out he had hit either his son or his daughter when they got in his way, he would hate himself and promise to not go to the pub anymore. A promise that, of course, didn’t last long. So they stopped getting in his way.
“One more beer, please,” Faber said once he found out that his beer was empty, and the bartender refilled his glass quickly.
Would he do that, too, if he knew I hit my children? He doesn’t know, and he shouldn’t either, Faber thought to himself.
Robyn was a friend of Katherine’s, from highschool. That’s how they met up, and stayed friends ever since. Since Katherine died, Robyn had noticed that Faber was going wrong, and she tried hard to stop him. But to no avail. Then, she tried to take his children away from him, but that failed too. Social services was too busy and had higher priorities - they dropped by once, on a day when Faber was sober, and concluded there was no reason to take the teens away. The only friend Faber’s kids really had was Everett, the adopted son of Robyn and Gloria, and that was the only way they stayed in touch now.
Faber drunk his next glass of beer as he answered the question he asked at Katherine’s childbirth again.
What would I do without my wife?
He knew the answer.
I’d turn into a monster.

Regan had been staring at her ceiling for a while, trying desperately to get to sleep, but failing miserably. Her dad was still gone, out to the pub: she hadn’t heard him come in. That always awoke her, but this time she was wide awake from a different cause.
A nightmare. Mum was there, and she hit her, saying that she wasn’t a good enough daughter. Her father just laughed at them as Regan got beaten up. Even thinking about it terrified her.
She finally made a decision as she stretched her legs and got out of her bed, and knocked on the bedroom door of her twin brother.
“Regan?” she heard. “Come in.”
Once she opened the door, she already found Andrew standing there and instinctively reached out for a hug, that he replied.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nightmare,” Regan replied. “Mum beat me up. I miss her so much.”
“Me too,” Andrew said, and soothed her by patting her on the back.
That was the deal they made when their father beat them up for the first time, not to trust him anymore, and not to trust anyone who didn’t know what it felt like to be beaten up. From then on, they decided one thing, and Regan whispered it, like a secret.
“We only trust each other, right?”
“Always.”