The Affair

Chapter 22.1 - Pain

Friday, July 22, 2022, 7:10pm

Just after 7:00pm, William had finally made it home after dropping Fallon off at her apartment and stopping to buy a pack of cigarettes. He parks his car in the driveway and makes his approach to the front door of his home, still unsure of what to expect.

"Did you leave, June? Are you and Zoe really gone?", he thinks to himself feeling guilty that he had not chased after her, "Of course you're gone... Why would you stay after a fucked-up scene like that?".

He unlocks the front door and enters into a quiet house.

All of the lights were off, leaving his home to be mostly shrouded in darkness mixed with the subtle glow of the dim sunlight creeping in through various windows around the house.  He closes the door behind him and engages both locks before turning to face his empty home.

"Girls!?", he calls hoping for a response.

After a few seconds of silence, he sighs as he flips the switch upon the wall to light the living room.  June had followed through with her threat, and now he was alone.

"Daddy's home...", he mutters to himself longing for his daughter's usual excited, high-pitched greeting.

In desperate need of a drink, he immediately makes his way into the living room and towards the wooden liquor cabinet positioned in the corner of the room. He opens the doors and shuffles a few bottles around so that he could grab his desired liquor, an unopened bottle of authentic wormwood absinthe he had procured during a trip to Amsterdam three years back.

"Fuck today... fuck everything", he thinks to himself as he pulls the bottle from the back of the cabinet, "Today didn't happen...".

With the bottle in hand, he grabs a tall 2oz shot glass and places it on top of the cabinet.  He removes the bottle's seal and pulls the cork from its spout. A pungent smell of licorice hits his nose. It entices him. He tilts his bottle, and the liquor streams into the glass like melted peridots; he fills the glass to the brim before lifting it to his face and throwing it down in one quick swallow.

"Ahh...", he exhales as the sting from the 140-proof liquor settles in his stomach with a warming sensation.

Not yet satisfied, he pours another shot and repeats the sequence.

Feeling relief for the moment, he takes his bottle and shot glass in one hand and walks up the stairs.  Reaching the top, he steps into the space of the upstairs hallway and banks left towards his bedroom door.  Entering the bedroom, he sets his liquor and glass onto June's long dresser.

The lamp on June's nightstand was on, and thus provided sufficient light to the dark room as he continues to look around. Stepping further into the room, he examines the area. The closet door was open and the light was left on. Inside his walk-in closet he sees that his small section of hung clothing was in disarray, as if they had been ripped from their hangers and tossed to the ground, while June's section seemed mostly in order.

Looking towards the ground, missing from her shoe rack were several of June's most frequented casual tennis shoes. Her beloved collection of designer high heels still remained.

"Well, at least she will be back...", he half-heartedly jokes to himself about his wife's inability to let go of her shoes.

Now looking up towards the shelves that run along the wall of the closet, he sees that both her and Zoe's travel suitcases were missing.

"Fuck!", William exclaims.

Reality had set in; his wife had caught him red-handed with Fallon in the worst possible fashion. His mind becomes stuck on the likeliest of scenarios that lay ahead. Divorce.