The Great Persuasive Lie

She cornered me at the front door.  Her words slithered over my skin and into my mind, but the alcohol fumbled their intent, and she stormed off.  I stumbled down the hall, my shoulders absorbing the walls’ sturdiness with each wayward step, until I reached the bedroom door.  Hands on hips, she yelled at me to take the couch.  My body trembled at the idea of walking a few steps more then I collapsed face first onto the embroidered, couch pillows, blackness descended.

Kitchen cupboards slammed again and again, and for a moment I knew not what sounded, only that my head pounded with every bang. 

“Stop all that goddamn noise,” I said and pulled a pillow over my head.

The banging continued and then the clang of pots and pans joined the symphony of anger I knew was my wife's, another morning of hate and reproach.  I rolled off the couch and worked my way to the kitchen.  I poured hot coffee in a mug and two fingers of whiskey and leaned against the counter’s edge for my inevitable talking to.

She watched me, so intent I thought if she could manifest fire I’d be a goner.  I almost wished she could.

 “I’m leaving you.”

“What?” I said.

“I’m leaving you.”

“I’ve heard it before, and you never left.”

“This time is different.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m already packed and loaded, Dan.  This is just me saying good-bye.”

“Good-bye then,” I said.  I swiped the whiskey bottle from the counter and headed to the couch.

Time slowed.  The whiskey bottle sat on the coffee table; I watched it watching me.  My mind struggled over her leaving, so silent in the house now, and her anger and why she left.

I loved her.  I hated her.  I wanted her.

 

The bottle felt cool in my hand and smooth to the touch.  I set it back on the coffee table, pushed it further from me.  When was it going to end?  Lost my job, my wife, my family, no one would have anything to do with me.

“What the hell happened to me?” I yelled.  Desperation filled my gut, my heart.  My head lolled on my chest and the house's silence darkened and tangled its tentacles around my limbs.  I felt hopeless.

The bottle shimmered with light like it held its own inner source.  I didn’t need any of them anyway, right?  But I wanted them.  I felt lonely, at a loss.  My eyes edged back to the bottle, so inviting.  Naw, I'm better off without them.  My hand wrapped around the glass, and I tilted the brown liquid back and swallowed.

 

Yeah, I didn’t need any of them or that stupid job.  I was fine.  I was good.

 

Another swallow.  Complete oblivion.