All I Could Give Her Was a Chill

I don’t remember driving home, but here I am, taking a deep breath to prepare myself before I walk inside.

I enter the house expecting another argument, or at the very least a seething glare, but she doesn’t even look up.

She’s sitting at the table, eating a sandwich, just staring off into space.

I’ve really done it this time.

“Hi,” I say nervously.

Still no response.

She just wraps her arms around herself as if my presence has given her a sudden chill.

I slink off to the lounge room to try and figure out what to do next.

She’s barely spoken to me in months. It feels like she gave up on me a long time ago.

In my anxious state, everything looks a little different, sort of hazy.

We were happy once. We met almost six years ago during one of my “good” phases, and were married within a few months in a small beach ceremony. Neither of us has much family, so it was an intimate gathering.

I thought having her would be enough to keep me on the right track. But once we settled into our house, I quickly slipped back into my old habits. I managed to hide it from her for a few years, but I often wonder if she always suspected.

She’s threatened to leave me a few times. It all started when she realised I’d stolen the ring her mum left her. I took it right from her jewellery box. With only the two of us in the house, she figured out pretty quickly that it was me.

I’m so stupid, but I was desperate for money to pay the loan shark. That was about two years ago now. I stopped for a while after that, but then she started making comments, saying I never listened to her, that I was always playing with my phone, always preoccupied. I knew she was on to me again, but I couldn’t stop myself.

Then I asked my workmate, Matt, to help me out with a loan. I think he told her, because she stopped me this morning and asked me straight out if I was gambling again. At least I didn’t lie to her this time.

A huge argument ensued. Well, actually, can you call it an argument when she’s the only one yelling? I don’t blame her. It was all my fault. There was nothing left for me to say. How many times can you say you’re sorry? If you don’t do anything to fix the problem, are you really even sorry? I told her I was going to get help, but I’ve told her that before too.

Then I made things worse by rushing out of the house in a hurry. I said I had something at work that I had to attend to urgently. Yes, another lie. I was really on my way to the loan shark. I had to give him the money, otherwise there’d be more trouble.

She’s probably going to leave me now, and I’m going to be left with nothing. She’ll kick me out. I don’t even know where I’ll go.

As I enter the lounge room, the lights flicker for a second. I collapse into my favourite armchair, but it just doesn’t have the same old comforting feel today. The TV is already on. Sometimes my wife leaves it on when she’s alone to keep her company. The news is playing. It looks like there’s been an accident not too far from here. A fiery crash scene shows up on the screen. They say they haven’t identified the victim yet, but there are no survivors. I recognise the street. It’s Cherry Lane, just around the corner. It’s hard to tell what type of car it is through the flames, but I can see a white sedan with… a yellow smiley face bumper sticker.

That’s funny. I have one of those.

I get up and run to the front door to look outside. My wife is still sitting at the table with a vacant stare. She doesn’t acknowledge me again. I go to open the door, but my hand goes straight through it. I fall onto the front step outside. I look around, but I can’t see my car. How did I get here? I really can’t remember.

Then, the thing I’ve been fearing since I saw the crash on the TV seems all too real.

I think that car might have been mine.

I think I died in that crash.

If I was really only on Cherry Lane, it means I probably hadn’t made it to the loan shark yet, and the cash is in the car, burning up.

The loan shark has my address. It will only be a few days, and then he’ll come for the money. He doesn’t care who he gets it from.

He said if I couldn’t pay him this time, he’d take a finger.

I wonder if anyone’s finger will do.

Every secret has two sides. You can read hers in All He Could Give Me Was a Chill.