He sipped his Jack Daniels and began to reminisce…
‘Don’t be silly, son. I’ll always be around,’ were his dad’s last words to him before he’d run off with that harlot.
A home, broken.
‘I’ll stop drinking one day, kidder.’ But his mum didn’t – liver failure.
A bond, broken.
His army days were his escape, Johnny’s shoulder a comfort. The days of his life: the laughs, the banter. They travelled across barren terrain. He recalled the jokes were flying, the laughter peaking, when the bomb struck. He was blasted clear of the vehicle and hobbled back to the burning wreck, ears burning, his leg broken. Johnny was in two halves.
His body, broken.
Years of numbness, solitude followed. Then he met her, in a bar. Her smile was enough and he loved her from that moment on. Engulfed by happiness, marriage followed plus the obligatory two kids. He taught them values, loyalty: his life whole again. Then she met HIM.
Sucking hard on his cigarette he deliberated his next move, considering his kids. ‘I’ll always be there for you,’ he’d said. But he’d come full circle.
A promise, broken.
He gazed at the revolver.
A man, broken.
© Col Bury December 2009