Last Gin: 500 Words a Day Fiction – Day 5

Last Gin: 500 Words a Day Fiction – Day 5

“You are shit. Everybody knows it,” he said to her with the two boys hovering around his knees.

“I don’t see how you can talk to me like that. I’ve stayed with you all this time,” she responded through tears.

“That’s just your problem, you’re too weak to do anything on your own.”

The boys are looking at both of their faces trying to figure out what is going on.

“Papa, are we gonna walk now?” The older one asks.

“Yeah son, just a second.”

“You should take them. They look forward to spending time with their father once in a while.”

“Once in a while? Is that supposed to be a little cunty dig?”

“Please, don’t speak to me like that.”

“Right, like you’d do anything about it. Cunt.”

They were happy before. It really is true, I’ve seen it. They all seem to follow the same trajectory – young people putting on their best, being open-minded, supportive, adventurous, passionate, and pure. At some point it peaks and no one knows why. All the good moments have been had, your partners expressions memorized and then anticipated, their shortcomings becoming your shortcomings, and slowly the glow fades and the air is gray. But if you’re a drinker, like he is, the highs and lows are more dramatic than any good woman can tolerate. It’s just thankful that he’s not hitting her right now, because the boys are with him. If they weren’t, well she’d take a few on the cheek.

“What is wrong with you? You used to have some pride. We used to be happy.”

“And you used to to not be a cow,” he slurs.

“You’re a real asshole,” she says trying to regain some dignity.

“That’s how you want to talk to me in front of my boys?” He says an inch from her face.

“Your boys? You do nothing but stumble along the sidewalk with them once a week.”

“You better watch your fucking mouth.”

You could see it in his eyes right there. A man leaves and a demon remains. Something that sees nothing wrong with squeezing her arm so hard you could see bruises forming. In her eyes is fear. In his eyes is blood. And without another thought he pushes her and she catapults backwards, catching a chair to the back of the knee and tumbling down through an end table.

“Get up,” he says.

She is screaming. The boys are standing behind each other, behind the couch.

“Get out!” she yells.

He walks towards her but she picks up a fire poker. “I will put this through your eye you bastard.”

He turns around, grabs the boys, and heads out for his walk.

After a few moments she is broken down sobbing. She never could have imagined that this would be her life. And it wasn’t going to change, she knew that.

She was supposed to prepare dinner while they were out so they could sit like a family and enjoy a roast together. She did. And she took out a bottle of gin, his favorite dinner drink. Now it should be noted that it takes less than a teaspoon of arsenic to drop a man for good. After putting the third table spoon in the new bottle she caught herself.

Thirty minutes later, the boys were back, with their father.

She walked up to him and placed her hand on his chest. “I’m really sorry I spoke to you like that. You certainly shouldn’t be putting up with that kind of attitude from your wife.”

“You know I get carried away sometimes,” he said.

“I was thinking, maybe you and I could have dinner together just us, and after I could give you something special,” she said with her hand moving down to his stomach.

“Now you’re talking. Boys, head to your room, we’ll call you out in a bit.”

As he sat down at the table she fixed him a plate and poured a rocks glass full of gin. He took a sip and leaned back like his sloppy body was something to behold. It was just about ten seconds before his eyebrow lifted. He reached for his throat.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I told you I had something special for you. Enjoy hell, cunt.

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