Those Moments

A Fight

 Reminder: These stories are not about my life.  That's all I really need to say... I wrote this while listening to very deep, saddening piano solos... hmm I think you'll be able to tell.  Don't forget to hit that little vote button!  You know the power it has :) ~~~Smurfette

My dad was an alcoholic.  He would never admit it, but he was.  Except, he wasn't the dangerous, he-seriously-needs-help kind of alcoholic.  He didn't go to a bar every night and come home completely wasted at 2 am.  He never did anything to me or my mother when I was younger.  We didn't own a car, so there wasn't a danger of drunk driving.  He was just addicted to wine.  He could not go a night without it.  It was one glass before dinner, two during, and one after with desert.  All it really did was make him moody.  For example, if he had a couple glasses and suddenly my computer wouldn't work and I asked for him to help, he would look at it and then throw a fit when he couldn't figure it out.  Then, blame me.  Look at all the shit you've got on this thing.  I don't know what sites you visit.  Look at all this spam.  That sort of venting.  I put up with it.  He is amazingly tolerable to drunkenness.  I never saw him with a hangover; that amazed me.  But, then there were the fights.  He would insult my mom and I and blame more than a broken computer on us.  He was unbearable, and the yelling... Oh god... His drinking did end up having some sort of psychological impact on me, though.  It's hard to look at a bottle and not remember the way he would treat me and my mom.  I rarely order wine at a restaurant.  The only time I crack open a can of beer is on New Years and on Superbowl night with my husband's family.  Mid-westerners... what'd you expect?

Anyway, my point is that tonight is a rare occasion.

Picture it: the lonely woman at her kitchen table, a glass of red sits by her hand on the table, the bottle of Argentinian goodness a little further away.  It's visible that it isn't her first glass by the level of the meniscus in the bottle...  She has been thinking.  A lot.  Still in her skirt and blazer from work, she sits. 

And keeps sitting...

Still sitting...

There's no point waiting.  It won't be a while till he comes home. 

Just sit.

I think you can see why I broke out his good bottle.  This is a typical night.  Well, usually there isn't wine involved, but don't worry, the milk and cookies have never missed much.  Why does he do this?  Does he not like to come home?  Does he not like me?  What did I do? 

The clock reads 11:32 pm.  This is about the time I hear the door open.

Oh, there it is.

I can hear his wet shoes squeak on the hardwood floor; must be raining.  I love the rain.  I prepare myself for what's to come.

"Hey there."  He doesn't even bother to look up from his phone.  "Ugh, it's horrible out there.  I don't understand why you like it.  Did you have a nice day?"

I scoff into my glass as I take a large gulp.  I notice him look up at my reaction.  He has that vexed expression, like he doesn't want to deal with anything; especially me.

"You're not alright."

You think?!  "Oh, what gave you that idea?  Was it the fact that I'm still dressed for work and it's close to midnight?  Or maybe that I'm yielding to the devil's juice?"  I start.

"Whoa, sweetie, what fueled this?"

I gesture to both of us, "How about this?"

"What?"  How can he be so oblivious?  He starts for the fridge.

"Look at us!  It's Friday night, you're drenched in a suit at 11:30 and you're still half focused on some stupid work notification.  I haven't eaten all night because I've been waiting to have a meal with you for once.  But, as usual, you come home at the very last minute without the slightest consideration for you wife!  The food is sitting in the fridge, untouched.  This has been going on for months!  And it's been even longer than that since we've had sex!  What is going on with you?!"

I can barely make out a "Where is all this coming from?" through his chewing.  He is more interested in that piece of chicken than his own wife.  I glare at him.

"I am sick of all of this!  Of our relationship!  We never interact anymore because you are so consumed with your work!  How is this supposed to be a marriage when you're never around?!"

I feel like a bomb that has been sitting in a cold crate for years and is finally lit by the light.

"I am around, we went to the movies last week!"

"You left me in the theater alone for 25 minutes when you got a call from the office.  You missed Paddington's bathroom scene" I spat matter-of-factly.  That scene was hilarious if I do say so myself.

"It was an urgent call from my boss!  I couldn't hang up on him!  We have a huge project going on."

"How about at Thanksgiving, when you stayed at your desk upstairs while your nephews gouged themselves in cake without you."

"Oh, there you go bringing up my least favorite holiday.  Look, I know I've been preoccupied lately, but how do you think we manage to live the way we do?  We have a house and bills to pay.  I'm the one who can afford all your clothing and jewelry."

"You think I give a shit about that stuff?!  I hate jewelry, but I never tell you because you always enjoyed giving me gifts.  All I care about is us.  I want us to be part of each others lives!  I don't even know what your doing in that office building!  You never talk to me!"

"That is not true!  We're talking right now!"

"No!  We are fighting!  This is not a civilized conversation!  Babe, we can't keep going on like this.  What about when we have children?  Will you ignore them as well?  Kids need attention."

The wick is almost to the end.

"Wait, what?  What does this have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything!  We are talking about your involvement in my life and your future children!"

"Very far future..."  He rolls his eyes.

"Excuse me?"  He did not just say that.

"Oh come on, you weren't serious?  Kids? Us?"

Who does he think he is?  "Yes us!  I have always wanted kids and you know that!"

"I'm sorry, but we are not ready for that anytime soon."

We?  What is this we he is talking about?  There won't be a we anymore if he keeps talking like this!  "I am!"

"What do you want me to say?  That I'll stop spending time at work?  Well, that is not going to happen."

Here comes the explosion...

"Well, then you better find someone else who can cook chicken like that.  I quit."

I head toward my purse and the front door; thank god I'm wearing my super comfortable boots.

"Hey!  Where are you going?!  We are not done here!"

"I am."  I blow him a kiss as I walk out the door.  Perfect move right?  I thought so.

Hailing a cab is really easy at this hour.  I can hear him still yelling inside.  I don't know what he's saying, nor do I care.

I hop in the car.  Too bad I left the wine.  A bottle like that is hard to come by.  Hey, I said I don't drink it.  I never said I didn't like it.  Haha, I can't help smiling.

Boom.