Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Shelia was done with work and headed home.  She kept thinking, trying to come up with an errand to run so she didn’t have to go home.  She had begun to dread the trip home as her husband’s drinking had gotten much worse, much more and much earlier.

She walked in the garage door and set her purse on the shelf by the door.  She didn’t hear anything except the TV on in the living room.  She drew a deep sigh and walked into the room.  Sure enough, he was passed out in his chair, an empty vodka bottle on the table.

Her first instinct was to wake him up and ask questions and demand answers.  She knew now from experience it would do no good.  It would just frustrate her, and he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.  And it would do no good.  Until he admitted he had a problem and wants to work on it; she might as well speak to a brick wall.  Besides the more he drank the angrier he would be when she woke him up.  She gently placed a blanket over him, turned off the TV and went to the kitchen to make herself a late dinner and cry again tonight.

 

Written for Fandango’s February Expressions (FFE) #24