Lay Her Down To Rest

Chapter 2

{Faithless is he who takes comfort in the devils' drink}

"for after all the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain"

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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That morning, her husband went to work, much in a hurry without Diana's knowledge of his sudden departure. She was kept wandering in her mind as to what caused him to do so. She knew his line of work required his full attention yet what she failed to understand was why he needed to leave so early and so suddenly.

After she finished her mundane chores and what needed to be done, she got on her hands and knees and fished out her notepad from under the dusty vanity.
She had much to write about. She was surprised to admit to herself that she loved writing down her feelings, a relief it was. It cleansed her soul from all those bitter thoughts. So with a flick of her pen, she began to write.

August 17th, 2017

Jonathan came home late last night, later than his usual late time. But, I fell asleep before he had gotten back, which for me, was something odd as I would always stay up and wait for him to arrive home no matter how late it got. My worried nerves would simply not allow sleep to grace me. Sometimes, I would pretend to be asleep as he would chastise me for waiting so late in the night for him. He doesn't wish to take away my precious hours of sleep just for the sake of him. As if I wouldn't do anything for him. He always says that but I know deep down he loves it when I waited for him to get back.

Although, as I had said, yesterday was rather different. I'm not sure what woke me up, the strong smell of alcohol wavering from him or his loud drunken snoring. Nonetheless, when I did awake in the early hours of the morning, I found him sprawled in bed next to me with his work clothes and shoes still on. So carefully as to not wake him up, I removed his shoes and belt and undid his tie so he could sleep more comfortably. After that, sleep didn't visit me again till the sun shyly peeked through the horizon. The strong smell of alcohol wavering from him was too hard to bare and on many occasions, I had thought of sleeping somewhere else. I love sleeping with Johnathan, of course, I do I never shy away from the warmth of his chest, however, last night was just very different, I suppose.

It was unlike him to get drunk, he almost never took part in excessive drinking, he was aware of my deep loathing for alcohol so it was rare for me to see him drink. I've seen what it does to people. I saw what it did to my father. Nothing good ever comes from it. That is why I call it the devils drink, it is a toxic tonic that intoxicates the minds of men and women alike and they become well beyond the point of caring, unaware that their action carry with them a heavy sack of repercussions.

At first, it was my father who got me into it. Alcohol was like his livelihood. Some would think his glass would be filled with water but it never was. It wasn't and I knew it. Even at two in the afternoon that transparent liquid that floated in his glass was liquor and that wasn't even the beginning. There would always be brandy in his morning coffee, cream liqueur if he could get his hands on it, "Just to give me that kick" he would tell ten your old me. If he was ever drinking juice there would be whiskey in it too. By dinner time he would be slumped in his chair, slurring and mumbling about how my mother left him. The kitchen cupboard was always stocked with booze. Having an alcoholic for a father was something that robbed me of a lot things in life. 

Years of coming home and watching him drink his whiskey bottles empty inspired the younger me into doing the same. I only wanted to know what was so wondrous and great about a drink that robbed people of their common sense and diligence that everybody seemed to almost cherish, no party is ever held without it. So one day, I got my hands on some. I twisted open the cap and took a small swing. The alcohol left a near sizzling sensation that numbed my mouth. A sensation that left me wanting more. I knew that I shouldn't have tried. But, the sweet taste of such lethal drink lured me to want more but I did not want to end up like my father. I don't suppose prison is a place I would like to live in.

Although I must say, I definitely don't blame Jonathon for having a drink or two, he for sure needed it, especially to get through the long night. God knows he needed it. I keep telling him to take a break, to not overwork himself, at least for my sake. I want to spend as much time with him as I possibly can but he never listens, he never does especially when it came to his work it's like his ears are clogged with clay. No matter how well he's done, how well his company is doing, there is always something that tells him to do it better and I admire him for that, for his hard work and diligence.  But it's just not healthy. He never takes care of himself and I worry for him sometimes. Will he manage while I'm not around? That thought scares me the more I think of it. What will happen to everything when I'm gone.

I try not to think of things like that anymore as it drains my sanity.

When I awoke the next morning, he was gone, not a trace of him was left only the ceaseless lingering smell of his cologne that mingled with the nauseating stench of alcohol. The clothes he wore yesterday were carefully laid on the side of the leather love seat next to the bed so I came to put them away but before I did so, I noticed red marks on the collar of his white shirt. They were a pretty shade of red, so fiery and flashy. The pigment seemed just like lipstick, yet the thing is I don't remember wearing any lipstick at all. It's odd but I doubt its anything important it was just probably the ink of his red pen. I carefully washed it out, the stubborn stain took a while but I managed to get it off.

Other then that, nothing of importance nor out of the ordinary happened today. I still haven't felt any pain so far so I guess that's good news, the dull aching that I went to get a check-up for never came back again since my visit to the doctors so maybe he was wrong after all, that would be the biggest relief. To find out that human error is the cause of my current predicament. 

Well, I suppose that concludes this. It's Nutmeg's feeding time.

-Diana Lewando

She concluded with a deep sigh feeling lighter and freer as she kicked the book under her vanity and with a bounce in her step she went to feed her dog.