The Older Man Part I

Chapter 12

Business Comes First

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VINCENT'S POINT OF VIEW

I leaned into the couch cushions and took a sip from the glass in my hand. The bold taste of whiskey slithered down my throat making me sigh in content as I felt it settle in the pit of my stomach.

I never enjoyed liquor before. When I first met Rachel, I hadn't had a single drink. I guess you could say she was the one to blame for my drinking habits. I had my first drink of alcohol with her. It was nothing special, just a simple beer she swiped from her father's fridge. I didn't enjoy the taste. It reminded me of watered-down ginger ale that had passed its expiration date.

Rachel, on the other hand, loved drinking. I wouldn't go as far as to say she was an alcoholic because she only ever indulged in drinking once every so often or for a special occasion. The most I ever saw her drink since we'd been together was when her grandmother passed away.

I experimented with alcohol the deeper into our marriage I got. When things started getting bad between Rachel and me, I found that things were easier to stomach with a glass of whiskey in my hand. More often than I wished I had to, I'd become numb at the expense of my liver. 

If I wasn't drinking then I was smoking. They were two ugly habits I couldn't shake. I was no stranger to smoking when I met Rachel, but I would only have a cigarette to blow off steam. These days, I found myself buying more cigarettes than I could inhale whenever Rachel was around me.

I did whatever I had to to remove the traces of her from my mind. I drank until my head was throbbing and smoked until my lungs were crying out for fresh air. Nothing worked permanently though. It would last for a moment until she showed up and stole whenever temporary bliss I had acquired and stomped it onto the floor.

As I took another sip of whiskey, I tuned out the sound of the movie that was on the living room tv. I didn't even know what was playing. Most of the time I spent with the television on was just so I could feel like there was someone else in the house with me.

Even with Rachel was home, I felt like I was alone. It was a feeling I had grown too used to.

I felt my eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion slowly took over me. I had a long day at work full of nonstop crap. I enjoyed my work but there were days where it was a son of a bitch on my psyche.

The sound of the front door unlocking and opening made my eyes shoot open with alert. I turned my head to see Rachel walking in with a few bags in her hands. Speaking of a son of a bitch on my psyche, I thought to myself.

"Vincent" she called out to me. I heard her but pretended I didn't. I was in no mood to deal with her today.

When I didn't answer, she walked over to the living room her heels angrily hitting against the hardwood floor. "Vincent," she said now standing directly in front of me.

I grumbled under my breath and looked up at her. "What?" I said in no particular tone.

She rolled her eyes at me."I have to talk to you. Come into the kitchen so I can put these groceries up." She scoffed when she saw me drink more of the whiskey in my glass and ignore her.