The Dead Wife

I wrote this short story last year, and I’m posting it here in six pieces. Like most of my fiction, it contains serious themes. This particular story heavily involves alcohol so please don’t read it if you’re offended by that. This is all the boring stuff … let the story begin!


The Dead Wife

Day 16

Rick jerked awake. His body was coated in sweat. He kicked viciously to free himself from the blankets twisted around him. He looked at the clock: 8:23 AM.

He sat on the side of his head with his head in his hands. Finally, he stood and walked out of the bedroom.

He opened the refrigerator and pulled a Budweiser. The fridge was mostly empty except for beer and some condiments. He popped the beer’s tab open and drank. He chugged the liquid like he had woken with a mouth full of salt.

The apartment was quiet. He turned on the TV and sat down on the couch. There weren’t any good shows on, but that wasn’t the point. The TV dulled his mind like the beer he held in his hand.

He couldn’t wait to get back to work. He felt like a leper. His boss had given Rick two weeks off and told him not to come to work. The man had told Rick was off work then scurried back to his office like Rick had a sickness he could catch.

At least his mind would be occupied at work. Numbers were emotionless and concrete. Rick was good with numbers. But he wasn’t good at coping with emotion. He didn’t know what to do about the infection that left him desperate for anything to deaden his brain. Min had always been the one that could handle emotion even if it was in her own life.

He remembered once when Min was telling him about an argument she had with a friend. Rick started to offer some advice, but she cut him off.

She smiled. “Baby, I don’t want you to tell me how to fix it. I just want you to listen to me.”

Rick took another long drink of Budweiser. “Oh, Min. I need you so much.”

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