Easy Way Out

                                                      The Easy Way

“I never get a moment's peace around here” He had shouted his face red with frustration.

The only sound that pierced the silence was the steady tick of a carriage clock given away free with some forgotten promotion, and the echoes of the past. He was hunched in the semi dark of evening the end of a pen scratching against the stubble on his cheek. Dark circles beneath his red eyes told a tale of sleepless nights and recent tears. Shadows closed in around the torn and crumbled scraps of paper that littered the floor as he sipped absently at cold bitter coffee. The councillor had told him to try and write out his feelings. That laying it out on paper may help clear his thoughts. The feelings though refused to be pinned. They whirled, wild and unchecked, through his mind. Pulsed, incessant and sickening through his veins.
The tubs of paint lurked menacingly in one corner of the room. A dust sheet crumpled around them. A roller places carelessly on top, waiting to be lifted and put to use any moment.
That had been how the argument had started.

“So your going out!” The bitter indignation had been clear in her tone. “We were meant to start on the living room this evening. Or had you forgotten?” This last question was almost spat across the hall at him.
He had forgotten  but wasn't about to admit it.

Staring at the paper in front of him without seeing it he waited for fresh tears. They had all been long spent though. Instead he screwed his eyes tight as if he could  blot the memories out All that lay behind his eyes though was her face.

Her lips had been twisted somewhere between anger and bitten back tears. Staring, waiting.
He couldn't bare to see her that way. A part of him knew he should swallow his pride, relent.
Lifting his hand to the door he turned his back on her, ignoring the stifled sob.
“So your just going to walk out.”
Ignoring the muttered reprove he turned the handle. “Just like you.” she hissed. “You always take the easy way out.”

It's amazing how fast life can change. The blink of an eye, the turn of a head or indeed a doorknob. For the  most part the world feels stable. One day follows another in ordered regiment, with but the odd ripple to disturb us. We forget so fast how fragile we are, how fate tosses us upon its waves, impartial to our struggles or whims. 

He had driven fast, too fast. Not really caring where he went. How dare she always make an issue out of every little thing. 'It had been a long day and he'd been looking forward to a peaceful drink with Tom.' He had told himself. Guilt twisted into self defence. 'He had every right to wind down of an evening. How dare she try and make him feel that way.'
Flickering street lights, waving trees, houses, some in darkness, some with light spilling from windows had all  rushed past unheeded.

He had barely  seen the couple before he was almost on top of them.

He was aware of something pressing against his hips. As he retrieved the packet from his pocket he recalled collecting the prescription a couple of days earlier. Sleeping tablets. Had he really not changed his clothes since then? With no real interest he unfolded the leaflet full of side effects and warnings.

The man had been angry. Swearing and screaming, all the while one arm latched protectively round his companion.
He had mumbled apologies in reply the anger of a moment before evaporating to be replaced by numb shock. A second slower. A moment later on the brake and his world would have come crashing down around him.
Breathing slowly and carefully he had watched them fade off into the night hand in hand. His thoughts had turned back home at that moment. To the knowledge he had someone to protect and defend.  Swearing softly at himself he started the engine and driving more carefully this time headed down the dark backstreet.
Shortly  he had stopped again realising with a huff of frustration that he was lost.
After taking time to compose himself and get his bearings he made a fast call to cancel his plans for the evening.
“No no nothings wrong” He reassured. “I'd just made a promise to the Mrs I'd forgotten about. You know how it is.”  forcing a tired chuckle out he had quipped “No more under the thumb than you.” a smile flickered as he had recalled the missing face at the last stag weekend among their friends.

It had taken a lot longer than he expected to find his way back to the familiar road that would take him to his doorstep.

The note had been pinned to the fridge with a happy bug eyed little magnet. One of a set they had picked up on holiday the year before. He barely glanced at it before bounding up the stairs hoping she was still awake enough to kiss and make up.
He had opened the door slowly wanting her to be awake but not wanting to disturb her if she wasn't. Through a crack in the curtains the street lights had cast a yellow beam across the side of her face. He had stared fondly at the familiar features.

He couldn't recall how long he stood there before he the creeping sensation that something was wrong set in. Tendrils of unease tugged at his mind though he couldn't pin point the cause. Perhaps a stillness too still where there should have been the odd shuffle, or  the rise and fall of the covers. Perhaps it was a silence too deep, where soft breaths should have punctuated the dark. It was only afterwards that these thoughts wondered through his consciousness though. At the time only the growing dread told him all was not well.

Throwing aside yet another attempt at expressing his feelings he stood in exasperation. He wandered to the kitchen to make a fresh coffee, more out of habit than thirst. The scrap of paper, still pinned with its merry magnet caught his eye as he went to check for milk.

I'm sorry.
I'm really tired I just can't wait up any longer so I've gone to sleep. See you soon.
I love you.

He lifted the note from where it had sat for, well to be honest he had no clue how long. Time had blurred into an uncounted passage of light and dark. Walking as though in a dream, the kettle bubbling forgotten behind him, he returned to the living room. Placing the note carefully on the table he began once again to write. He stared a long time at the words without seeing them.

He had barely been aware of the blur of ambulance men the swift rush to the hospital. The eyes apologising before a word had been spoken. It had been  too late.
The wait afterwards stretched into an unbearable monotony full of unanswered questions.

Then the answers had come.

'There is nothing anyone could have done' he was reassured. 'It had been there ticking away.' Something in her brain, ticking away waiting to take her. 'There is no way you could have known'

Tick
Tick
Tick
The clock cracked rather disappointingly off the wall, but at least the incessant ticking stopped. He returned to the table and snatched up the paper he had been writing on. With a purpose in his stride for the first time in a long time he entered the kitchen. Feeling slightly sick he placed the note under the same happy magnet. He glared at its smile.
Pouring a glass of water he left the room clutching the packet he had lifted, without thinking, as he left the living room.

For the first time in a long time he ascended the stairs to the bedroom. The past still echoed within his ears as he approached the bed. The familiar beam of light found its gap in the curtains exposing the empty covers.

Downstairs in the darkness and  the magnet  held its charge while still smiling its fixed inane grin into the silence.

I'm sorry, I'm really tired I just cant wait any longer so I've gone to sleep. See you soon.
I love you too.

Methodically he popped each tablet from its foil onto the cabinet beside the bed. He stared at them.
Her last words to him whispered through his sleepless mind.

The echoes of the past died down as the night drew itself firmly around the house.

                                                        * * * * *

Daylight streamed through the windows. It glanced across the neat row of pills. It bathed the bathroom in light, the freshly used razor laid casually beside the sink. It glowed brightly off the dust sheets that were spread across the living room furniture and glinted off the paint splattered stepladder.  An open window allowed the sharp smell of fresh paint to escape into the afternoon.
In the kitchen the kettle clicked, as he closed the fridge door having replaced the milk the piece of paper caught his eye.

Tugging a pen from his pocket he made a quick addition to the bottom of the note.

It's OK you can stop nagging now.