Bottle In The Basement

I

It was just another day in the ruins of Jimmy Henson's wrecked life when he trotted up the front stairs of his father's front steps. He knocked twice then let himself in without thinking much of it. It was a big house but Jimmy had grown used to it over the last few years of his residence there.

"I'm back!" Jim proclaimed to no one but an empty house.

He removed his Converse All Stars with the gentle hand of a man who greatly cared for his shoes before continuing into the kitchen. The skin protruding through the growing holes in his socks provided great stability on the rather slick hard-wood floors of the diner.

He scanned the spacious eating room and found that no one was present except for a note written to him from his father. Jimmy approached the note and read:

"Jim, I've gone out to get the ice and cake from the store for the party tonight at the office building downtown. I'd appreciate it if you could do me the favor of getting some wine from the cellar if you find a free moment before meeting me there. Hope your day was well."

-Dad

Jimmy studied the note a moment longer then finally crumpled it up and stored it in his left pocket.

"He did that on purpose." He said, accusing his father with no one to listen but the still empty house.

"Just wants me to face my fears. He could've gotten it himself." He mumbled stubbornly.

It had been just over three years since the accident and Jim had hated that cellar every moment since. His father knew it too, from the moment Jimmy showed up on the front step asking for a place to stay, there was no question that the cellar was not to be spoken of.

This became clear immediately after Larry Henson had suggested that Jim sleep in the wine cellar until the upstairs bedroom could be cleaned and prepared for a guest. Jimmy had immediately turned down this proposal without hesitation.

Yet today was different. Today Jim had successfully met his weekly shoe sales quota all in one day. His boss had provided him a raise and he was in a positive mood and at a placid state of mind.

The thought of going to the cellar for the first time wasn't the most soothing thought in the world but today it seemed manageable, as if it could actually be accomplished without much pain or fear.

He had convinced himself before he had realized it. He began to make his way across the dining room and towards the cellar door with a kind of nervous shuffle of his bare feet. He reached the key rack and grabbed the old rusted one labeled, in neat cursive, "Cellar".