Better in the Morning

Part Three

She watched him go out the door, something told her he wasn't alright. But she had other things on her mind. Her husband, the boy's father, was leaving her. For another woman who had better hair, better legs, better teeth. Everything about the other woman was better than her. As sad as she was about the whole ordeal, she understood why her husband wanted to be with the other woman and not her. The other woman probably could sing, that was something her husband loved, the other woman could probably cook well, that was something she could not do, the other woman could probably get down and do yard work, which with her bad back, was something that she could not do.

She had not told her son, and would not until her husband was gone. It was the last thing she wanted to do. He was already struggling, she saw that with his grades.

She went to the liquor cabinet, what would it be today? She moved the red wine and reached for the scotch. She locked herself in her room, the room where her and her husband used to sleep and cried as she nursed the bottle. Newspapers littered the ground. Job listings facing up. She couldn't find a job although it was urgent that she found one. She'd be taking care of her son by herself, she couldn't support the both of them without some sort of income.

She finished off the bottle and went back into the kitchen for another one, finishing that one as well, it wasn't even noon before she had finished every bottle of scotch that she owned so she drank other things, her Bulleit bourbon, her svedka vodka, her fireball whiskey. Everything except the red wine. That was her husband's favorite, she couldn't bring herself to drink it.

Beginning to feel dizzy, she sat down on the tiled floor. Her vision became blurry and she slipped in and out of consciousness. This was her life now, and as she tried to drink away her problems, they became worse.