Things I'll Never Say

Red Wine

The closest store to our house was just around the corner. Right now, that seemed to be about the only thing I was grateful for. Having to cross through four lanes of traffic in high heels, get the alcohol Mike desperately wanted, and make it back in 10 minutes seemed virtually possible. Still, there was nothing else I could do.

After a gleaming red sports car whipped right across my face, flying down the street into our neighborhood, I looked to cross. Judging from the plates it appeared to be one of Mike's friends. Mike had friends of every race, class, and profession. Tonight, he was having over those whom belong to the rich elite, just like us. It was these friends, along with Mike himself, that seemed to rule this town. They were the kind of people that could retire now if they wanted to, owning big corporations that allowed them to have homes in three different countries, partaking in vacations whenever they pleased. Often times, Mike would go and join them on these lavish trips. I, on the other hand, would stay behind and take care of the house, like a good wife would. That's what Mike wanted.

Still, these weren't his only friends. In fact, they weren't even half of them. Before Mike went into the business of money making, he had been surrounded by the law enforcement type. His dad, who didn't live far from us, was a cop. Growing up, Mike had been around cops and firemen alike. So, with his amiable spirit, he made a lot of friends. And, years later, those very friends became alliances. Alliances that kept me from breaking free. Mike had a good reputation that couldn't be easily broken, and everyone had his back.

I crossed the road once there was a break in traffic, trying to do a light jog as best as I possibly could in heals. Having closely dodged a vehicle, I made my first step onto the curb. Just two stores down was our local, family-owned shopping centre. I walked inside, the automatic doors opening before me, letting out a gush of air, and I looked at the clock hanging of the wall straight ahead. It was 5:08; I had 7 minutes.

To the left of the entrance, the beer and wine was kept. I paced over quickly, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. Mike loved chiraz and red wine; that's something I would never forget.

On our first date, Mike picked me up at my house and told me we were going somewhere special. He wouldn't tell me where it was, only that I would love it. When we arrived at our destination, we were on the top of a great mountain that looked out into the city; it was beautiful. There, we had a picnic dinner and some wine, red wine. That was the first time I had red wine with him, and it definitely wasn't our last. On our honeymoon, Mike splurged. That is, I thought he was splurging. He had one cup too many and was a little tipsy that night. But, I didn't mind. It was our honeymoon and we were supposed to part and have fun. It was after that when things escalated...

Weeks passed and it seemed to turn into a routine that Mike would either come home drunk, or get drunk shortly after his arrival. It wasn't fun anymore; he wasn't fun anymore. Mike was an angry drunk with a control problem, and I was just his little toy to play with it. The alcohol did it to him, just like it did to his dad, and his mom; it got the best of her until it ended her..red wine...

I grabbed a bottle, and then a cart beer with it. Mike didn't tell me how many people were coming over, but I figured 12 beer bottles and a bottle of wine would be enough. So, I picked up the alcohol and carted it over to the check out line.

Luckily, the lines were short and I was able to get in one where I only had to wait behind one man. He was tall and muscular with a tan that peeped out in the places his business attire did not cover. Also to my benefit, most of his groceries had already been scanned and he was pulling out his wallet to get ready to pay. I placed the beer and wine on the conveyer belt, putting up the bar between my groceries and his. It was now 5:11.