This is your last chance.
No more letting me down.
Her belief in him—her need to believe in him—is a knife in my chest.
She deserves better, and she knows it. But better doesn’t feel reachable right now, not in her world.
When he arrives, he does what he always does at first—he performs.
The centipedes are gone.
The cockroaches vanish.
Sabre’s bowls are full again, and the apartment starts to resemble something livable.
He stops drinking, and doesn’t pressure her for alcohol or cigarettes.
He attends therapy, as well as an AA group meeting.
He even takes on aspects of her book marketing, like he’s finally pulling his weight and following through on his promises.
For a moment, evenIalmost believe he’s changing—but time, as usual, reveals it’s just a performance. It’s always a performance.
After a few weeks, I hear her tell him about sobriety, how it’s clearing her head, making her feel like herself again. Her voice is bright when she talks about vivid dreams and restful sleep.
Timmy’s reply? A shrug and a dismissive “I haven’t noticed much of a difference.”
I clench my jaw. It’s not just apathy—it’s sabotage.
He’s not drinking—sure—but that doesn’t mean he’s supportive. Sobriety isn’t fixing him, because sobriety isn’t his real problem. He’s not drinking, but he’s still Timmy—selfish, careless, and cruel.
The worst part is that Margaux is trying so hard to hold onto the glimpses of good. She talks to her therapist, recounting his small wins. “He’s following through,” she says. “He’s even listening to an audiobook with me about quitting drinking. We talk about it after each chapter.”
“Does it feel sustainable?” her therapist asks, cutting through the hope in Margaux’s tone.
Margaux pauses, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But he’s trying.”
Trying.Margaux deserves more than someone who’s ‘trying’. She deserves someone who meets her where she is, who adds to her life instead of depleting it.
I’m proud of her for starting roller derby boot camp. It’s the first thing she’s done in a long time that’s purely for her, something that makes her feel alive again. Watching her take those shaky first strides on skates is a rare moment of joy for me. She’s nervous, but she’s doing it, anyway.
That’s Margaux. She never stops trying.
And then there’s Timmy, hovering on the sidelines, insisting on attending every practice.
He’s cheering her on, sure, but it’s performative. When he decides to join her, it’s not about supporting her—it’s about being the center of attention. The skates, the gear, the time-lapse videos—it’s all a show.
And when Margaux decides boot camp isn’t for her, Timmy’s interest in skating disappears entirely.
He’s nothing but empty promises and unfinished projects.
Even now, as I watch her assemble PR boxes for her new book release, he’s there, performing again.
He sets up phones to film her, crafting time-lapse videos for her marketing. It’s thoughtful, sure, but I can’t help but see it as another manipulation. He’s proving his worth just enough to keep her invested, to keep her tethered to him.
And it’s working.
She’s smiling as she works, letting herself believe in the version of Timmy who does these kinds of things, as if he’s consistent with his thoughtful gestures, not just making grandiose shows every now and then to keep her hooked and able to look past the many, many low moments.