Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head

The familiar pop of a cork coming free of the bottle and Alan smiled. Forty-five years and I still get as giddy as a school girl when I open a bottle of wine. You’d think I was still nineteen and stealing bottles out of my mom’s liquor cabinet, not on my second liver.

The merlot flowed into the glass as the rain began to fall, a few small drops escaping over the brim of the glass to fall on the counter in a Rorschach like design. It looks like my mothers head on a stick. Alan chuckled at that mental image, taking his glass of wine and heading for the living room, leaving the spill on the counter.

“That had better not have been a bottle opening I heard!” Sarah’s voice broke the silence that Alan had been enjoying, and he winced ever so slightly.

“No dear, you must be hearing things again!” he replied, taking a sip of the red wine with a slight chuckle. Settling back into the recliner he did his best to relax, trying to let the last few days wash over him. The pitter-patter of rain on the windows was soon joined by the rumbling of thunder in the distance. I wonder what’s for dinner?

“Have you heard anything about that job from Steve?” Again Sarah’s voice shot into the silence. Lightning crashed outside, lighting up the room for a fraction of a second.

“No Sarah, he said he wouldn’t know anything until Tuesday.”

“You should call him anyways.” Thunder rolled again, this time louder, closer than before. Another sip of the merlot, trying to calm himself before he went upstairs and got into another shouting match with her.

“He said he’d call on Tuesday and that’s when he’ll call. I don’t want to bother him at home. It’s late!” The room lit up again, the lightning followed quickly by the thunder. The storm was on top of them now.

Alan drained the glass as he stood, making his way back to the counter and the bottle of wine with the splash next to it. He cocked his head to the side, taking another look at the splash pattern. It still looked like a head on a stick, but maybe it wasn’t his mother’s.

“Alan!” He quickly ignored the rest, the sound of wine filling a glass the only sound he was concerned with. No splashes this time. Not bothering to make his way back to the living room Alan simply stood at the counter and drained the glass. Again Sarah shouted his name, and again he ignored her for the pouring of wine. Another glass drained.

“Alan! Please come up here! I need your help!” What about what I need woman? Like some damned peace and quiet.

The stairs seemed to shift a little bit as Alan started to climb them. He thought they were trying to trip him up, stop him from doing what he really, truly wanted to do…but that might have just been the wine.

“Alan! Are you coming Alan?!”

I’m coming woman. But it’s not you I’m going to help.

The door was already open, Sarah standing at the window, trying to pull it closed. That window always got stuck, no matter how many times he told her not to open it.

“I can’t get this window closed and it’s raining outside like the second coming of the Great Flood.” Alan took the few steps across the room towards Sarah and the window, trying not to let her see him sway, not wanting to hear the lecture about his drinking, his liver, and what the doctor had said.

He reached for the window, wanting to just close the window and go back downstairs to his bottle of wine. Sarah was talking again, but he wasn’t listening anymore. The thunder was right over the house, a small puddle forming on the floor by the window from the pounding rain. Alan started to reach for the window, then paused. He turned, hands still raised, and lunged for his wife.

Lightning lit the room as a thousand light bulbs, Sarah’s hands beating against his large barrel chest and arms as his fingers closed around her throat. Thunder crashed outside in time to her beating heals on the floor. Time seemed to slow down, but then it was over, and Sarah’s body soon lay on the floor.

Turning from the window and the body Alan headed back towards the stairs, the storm outside passing, a cool breeze coming in through the window. I wonder how much wine I left in that bottle.