Will He?

534 Word Count


         The slamming door cut off his tirade. Looking around, he was alone in the kitchen again. His anger still boiling and all he could do is set down and drink his coffee. Leaning his head against his propped-up hand he wondered why he always does this.
         He loved her but the arguing and fighting had to stop. He felt his love for her was just as strong as when they first met. But he felt her love slipping. It was really all about the money. After the accident, the income dropped. Somebody had to keep reins on the money spending. He hated that it was this way but bills had to be paid, and after the Doctor bills the medicine had to be gotten. Things would never heal right, the medicine was to be able to function while it did heal.
         Alcohol started playing a big part in their lives. He knew this was not the way it should be, not the way he had planned his life. He knew something had to be done. His resolve increased the more he thought of it. Down the hall to the bedroom, he stumbled. The alcohol he put into his coffee along with the pain meds was weighing him down. He dropped into the bed and looking at his watch, he figured about an hour or so nap before she would get home.
         As he was dozing off he thought to himself, yes this is the right way. When she comes in she’ll drop her purse on the kitchen table, and move down the hall to the bedroom where he was. This would fix it all, soon it would be over and problems solved. He nodded off into a slightly drunken nap.
         After few hours he woke up, and looked around. His thoughts fall back onto him like cold water.
         He knew what he had to do and sat up on the side of the bed. Looking at his watch, blinking his eyes once or twice to see it. Ok it’ll be over soon. She’ll be here shortly and I need to get ready. He reaches to the dresser drawer and opens it. Reaching in he finds what he is looking for immediately. Pull the piece of steel up and hold it. Looking the gun over, how straight the lines were, and the smoothness of the handles. Seeming to caress it he looks at it with admiration. Such a little thing that can solve so many problems in just a moment of time.
         Raising it and looking into the mirror, he hears a car on the gravel driveway beside the house. He knows its time. Feeling the cold steel as he rubs it gently down his face, oddly it feels so good, so solid.
         His nostrils fill with the smell of spent gunpowder, he hears the door open in the kitchen and knows this is it. How joyous he feels knowing the problems with be over in but a moment. The barrel of the gun now over his lips, he parts them and licks the hole gently then pushes the barrels into his mouth. The last thought he has is will he hear the hammer click?