ooc The part of my wife has already been taken by _precious_1_ and since there is only two parts the thread is now full. I appreciate everyone's indulgence with this.
ic I looked out the window at the rain that ran down the glass marking my unhappiness, my despair. My guilt. I rose from the seat of my desk with my glass in hand the ice clinking in it as I went to the bar and refilled it. How many drinks had I had? I had stopped counting hours ago but the glass whiskey container was not nearly as full as it had been when I started. Fuck! Like I cared! I poured myself another drink and wondered just when I had stopped caring about anything. Anything at all. Including...her.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and then tried to wash it down with a good swig of the liqour. I couldn't feel the burn of the whiskey anymore. Couldn't feel the numbing effects anymore. I had drunk too much that day to feel anything more, I had drunk too much during the ten years we had been married to feel anything at all. And tonight I craved that numbness, that forgetfullness, that oblivion that came with hard liquor.
"God! What an ass I am," I said out loud to no one. All of the guests from the funeral had left long ago and I was alone in the house that we had bought just four years ago. No, that was not totally true. Even from where I sat I could hear her laughter echo down the hall, hear her singing as she picked out drapes or moved the furniture for what seemed like the thousandth time, heard her footsteps moving along the hallway in those pumps she wore that made her legs the envy of all the women and me the envy of all the men.
"Son of a bitch," I said to myself as I tried to turn off the memories and failed miserably,"Greggory Miller, you are a low down son of a bitch. She was everything to you and you treated her like she was an inconvience. She wanted a job and you frowned at it because you make too much money as a high paid lawyer, she wanted a baby to fill the days and you hemmed and hawed never giving her an answer because you really were too scared of becoming a father to say yes. And why were you so scared of becoming a father, jackass? Because you knew you would be a worse father than you were a husband."
Angrily he threw the glass and watched it shatter against the fireplace but failed to get the satisfaction he desired from the sound of it shattering all over the hearth. Picking up another glass he filled it, not even bothering with the ice but pouring it almost to the top with the liquid. Throwing it down in one gulp he slammed the glass down and went to stare out the window once again the despair he had begun to feel washing over him like a hot blanket of shame.
He had seen the signs of her unhappiness. She had been restless and wouldn't meet his eyes. When she did he could see the deep sadness behind them. She had begun to go out with her friends more, not being there when he came home more often and soon her old friend from college had joined her group. Her male friend from college. Kenneth was his name. Kenneth Fowler. And she hadn't told him. Then again they stopped talking to each other so many months ago that he couldn't remember the last time that they had said more than a passing hello.
He had found out through one of their mutual friends who had seen her and Ken sitting in a coffee shop all cozy drinking and laughing together and he had seen red. How dare she do that to him. He had a reputation to uphold as one of the best lawyers in the city and her being seen with another man would reflect on him.
He had confronted her. Had accused her of sleeping with him and she had gotten mad. He had never seen her really mad before. She had always been the proud wife, the gracious hostess and the loving woman he could count on to come home to. She had left. She was mad and not thinking clearly and he had let her leave and get in her car and drive from the house. Hours later he had been called from his work to the door by thier manservant and confronted by the police who told him that she had been in an accident and had died on the way to the hospital. He had looked at the clock only then realizing that she had been away for hours. He should have called the police reporting a missing person but, no, he had some work to do before a big court case in the morning and she had taken a backseat like always.
During the funeral one of her friends had approached him and said that she had called her on her cell phone to talk after their fight and wanted to assure him that she had never cheated on him. Never. Ken had just been a friend she could talk to and, no matter how lousy he had treated her, she had still been in love with him. To the end. Her friend had walked away with a dark look in her eyes and Greg didn't doubt that she had gotten some dark kind of satisfaction at delivering that news but, by that time, Greg was too much into grief and despair to care. He had already accepted that this whole thing was his fault even if she had had an affair. Hell, he had given her plenty of reasons to have an affair and the news that she hadn't, that the fight that had sent her to her death had been totally unneccessary was only icing on the cake.
Leaning his head on the glass of the window Greg closed his eyes wondering why it had to be her. If anyone deserved to be pulled out of this world it was him. Maybe then she could have enjoyed life a bit. Gods only knew that he had made enough money for her to enjoy life without him and had made it impossible to enjoy life with him.
"Feeling sorry for yourself? Typical," He heard a distinctly male voice say and whirled around to confront whomever had dared to interfere in his drunken thoughts. A man stood there of nondescript features and nondescript age watching him as if he belonged there in his study on this rainy afternoon.
"Who the hell are you?" Greg snarled,"And who are you to say anything about my grief? Get out of here before I call the police."
The man just smiled and shook his head. "Calling the police will do you no good. You already know that, deep down. But if you were to take a step that drastic you would miss out on the opportunity to make things right. To make your wife happy like you should have from the beginning. You wouldn't want to miss that would you?"
Greg looked at the man with narrowed eyes. It was as if he knew what he had been thinking. Then he laughed. Of course! He had drunk so much liquor that he was hallucinating. It had happened before but never so sharp of a hallucination. It was the only way to explain how the man knew his thoughts. Greg shrugged. What the hell. Talking to himself was the least of his problems now.
"Okay, I'll bite," He said with a sneer he used to upset witnesses in court,"You are here to give me an opportunity to make things right. Only problem is my wife is dead. Gone and buried. Probably happier now than she has been for the last ten years. So, tell me, how do you make a corpse happy?"
The man shook his head again as if he were dealing with a child. "If you could. If you had that chance to set things straight. If your wife was still alive and you could prevent her from her fate...what would you do?"
Greg laughed a very loud and sarcastic laugh. "I would stop her from marrying me first off. After that she would be free to find someone who wasn't so career driven that he would put her on the casualty list. Yes, I would stop her from every making that mistake. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
The man, still smiling, shrugged. "I am not the one who knows what would make her happy. Very well, you have your wish. You will be allowed an opportunity to correct your mistake in the way you have stated. You will stop her from marrying yourself and help her to find someone who can make her happy."
And then he was gone. "What the hell?" Greg said thinking that this was the damndest drunken hallucination that he had ever been in. That was moments before a dark fog seemed to roll over him and he sank to his knees and then the floor unconscious, the whiskey glass rolling across the floor.
---------------------
"Ken..." He heard as if from a distance,"Ken...." And then a very familiar laugh,"Kenneth Fowler, are you listening to me? I was trying to tell you about the guy I met last night at the concert. Greg Miller. I wanted you to meet him. I think you would really like him. He asked me out on Saturday and I want you to meet him then."
I turned from where I was looking out a window running with rain across the table in what appeared to be a coffee shop at...my wife. But not my wife. She looked younger somehow and happier and...what had she said to me? Looking at the mirror on the wall behind our booth my eyes opened wide because it was not my face staring back at me but the face of her long time friend Kenneth. What the hell was going on?
ic I looked out the window at the rain that ran down the glass marking my unhappiness, my despair. My guilt. I rose from the seat of my desk with my glass in hand the ice clinking in it as I went to the bar and refilled it. How many drinks had I had? I had stopped counting hours ago but the glass whiskey container was not nearly as full as it had been when I started. Fuck! Like I cared! I poured myself another drink and wondered just when I had stopped caring about anything. Anything at all. Including...her.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and then tried to wash it down with a good swig of the liqour. I couldn't feel the burn of the whiskey anymore. Couldn't feel the numbing effects anymore. I had drunk too much that day to feel anything more, I had drunk too much during the ten years we had been married to feel anything at all. And tonight I craved that numbness, that forgetfullness, that oblivion that came with hard liquor.
"God! What an ass I am," I said out loud to no one. All of the guests from the funeral had left long ago and I was alone in the house that we had bought just four years ago. No, that was not totally true. Even from where I sat I could hear her laughter echo down the hall, hear her singing as she picked out drapes or moved the furniture for what seemed like the thousandth time, heard her footsteps moving along the hallway in those pumps she wore that made her legs the envy of all the women and me the envy of all the men.
"Son of a bitch," I said to myself as I tried to turn off the memories and failed miserably,"Greggory Miller, you are a low down son of a bitch. She was everything to you and you treated her like she was an inconvience. She wanted a job and you frowned at it because you make too much money as a high paid lawyer, she wanted a baby to fill the days and you hemmed and hawed never giving her an answer because you really were too scared of becoming a father to say yes. And why were you so scared of becoming a father, jackass? Because you knew you would be a worse father than you were a husband."
Angrily he threw the glass and watched it shatter against the fireplace but failed to get the satisfaction he desired from the sound of it shattering all over the hearth. Picking up another glass he filled it, not even bothering with the ice but pouring it almost to the top with the liquid. Throwing it down in one gulp he slammed the glass down and went to stare out the window once again the despair he had begun to feel washing over him like a hot blanket of shame.
He had seen the signs of her unhappiness. She had been restless and wouldn't meet his eyes. When she did he could see the deep sadness behind them. She had begun to go out with her friends more, not being there when he came home more often and soon her old friend from college had joined her group. Her male friend from college. Kenneth was his name. Kenneth Fowler. And she hadn't told him. Then again they stopped talking to each other so many months ago that he couldn't remember the last time that they had said more than a passing hello.
He had found out through one of their mutual friends who had seen her and Ken sitting in a coffee shop all cozy drinking and laughing together and he had seen red. How dare she do that to him. He had a reputation to uphold as one of the best lawyers in the city and her being seen with another man would reflect on him.
He had confronted her. Had accused her of sleeping with him and she had gotten mad. He had never seen her really mad before. She had always been the proud wife, the gracious hostess and the loving woman he could count on to come home to. She had left. She was mad and not thinking clearly and he had let her leave and get in her car and drive from the house. Hours later he had been called from his work to the door by thier manservant and confronted by the police who told him that she had been in an accident and had died on the way to the hospital. He had looked at the clock only then realizing that she had been away for hours. He should have called the police reporting a missing person but, no, he had some work to do before a big court case in the morning and she had taken a backseat like always.
During the funeral one of her friends had approached him and said that she had called her on her cell phone to talk after their fight and wanted to assure him that she had never cheated on him. Never. Ken had just been a friend she could talk to and, no matter how lousy he had treated her, she had still been in love with him. To the end. Her friend had walked away with a dark look in her eyes and Greg didn't doubt that she had gotten some dark kind of satisfaction at delivering that news but, by that time, Greg was too much into grief and despair to care. He had already accepted that this whole thing was his fault even if she had had an affair. Hell, he had given her plenty of reasons to have an affair and the news that she hadn't, that the fight that had sent her to her death had been totally unneccessary was only icing on the cake.
Leaning his head on the glass of the window Greg closed his eyes wondering why it had to be her. If anyone deserved to be pulled out of this world it was him. Maybe then she could have enjoyed life a bit. Gods only knew that he had made enough money for her to enjoy life without him and had made it impossible to enjoy life with him.
"Feeling sorry for yourself? Typical," He heard a distinctly male voice say and whirled around to confront whomever had dared to interfere in his drunken thoughts. A man stood there of nondescript features and nondescript age watching him as if he belonged there in his study on this rainy afternoon.
"Who the hell are you?" Greg snarled,"And who are you to say anything about my grief? Get out of here before I call the police."
The man just smiled and shook his head. "Calling the police will do you no good. You already know that, deep down. But if you were to take a step that drastic you would miss out on the opportunity to make things right. To make your wife happy like you should have from the beginning. You wouldn't want to miss that would you?"
Greg looked at the man with narrowed eyes. It was as if he knew what he had been thinking. Then he laughed. Of course! He had drunk so much liquor that he was hallucinating. It had happened before but never so sharp of a hallucination. It was the only way to explain how the man knew his thoughts. Greg shrugged. What the hell. Talking to himself was the least of his problems now.
"Okay, I'll bite," He said with a sneer he used to upset witnesses in court,"You are here to give me an opportunity to make things right. Only problem is my wife is dead. Gone and buried. Probably happier now than she has been for the last ten years. So, tell me, how do you make a corpse happy?"
The man shook his head again as if he were dealing with a child. "If you could. If you had that chance to set things straight. If your wife was still alive and you could prevent her from her fate...what would you do?"
Greg laughed a very loud and sarcastic laugh. "I would stop her from marrying me first off. After that she would be free to find someone who wasn't so career driven that he would put her on the casualty list. Yes, I would stop her from every making that mistake. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
The man, still smiling, shrugged. "I am not the one who knows what would make her happy. Very well, you have your wish. You will be allowed an opportunity to correct your mistake in the way you have stated. You will stop her from marrying yourself and help her to find someone who can make her happy."
And then he was gone. "What the hell?" Greg said thinking that this was the damndest drunken hallucination that he had ever been in. That was moments before a dark fog seemed to roll over him and he sank to his knees and then the floor unconscious, the whiskey glass rolling across the floor.
---------------------
"Ken..." He heard as if from a distance,"Ken...." And then a very familiar laugh,"Kenneth Fowler, are you listening to me? I was trying to tell you about the guy I met last night at the concert. Greg Miller. I wanted you to meet him. I think you would really like him. He asked me out on Saturday and I want you to meet him then."
I turned from where I was looking out a window running with rain across the table in what appeared to be a coffee shop at...my wife. But not my wife. She looked younger somehow and happier and...what had she said to me? Looking at the mirror on the wall behind our booth my eyes opened wide because it was not my face staring back at me but the face of her long time friend Kenneth. What the hell was going on?
