Drowning by Swallows

A bit of flash.

Mary was fed up with Bob and realized it was time for him to confront his situation. I have to talk to him now, try to make him understand. Delaying would serve no purpose and only make matters that much worse. She crossed her arms and hugged herself as she watched him rummage inside the refrigerator.

With a lopsided grin, he turned and waved his freshly opened beer.

“Why the frown?” he slurred. “Come here and give us a big hug.” 

                                    

Mary sidestepped his lurch towards her and then with both hands flat against his chest sent him flopping onto the couch. “Stop it and sit!”

“What am I, your puppy?” He remained splayed as he’d landed and took a big swig. “Watch out,” he said, saluting her with the bottle, “I might bite.”

She reached out and snatched the bottle out of his hand. “I think you’ve had enough. Enough for today. Enough for tomorrow.”

Bob pursed his lips and looked at her with mournful eyes.

“Honey, I love you, but you’ve got to know how it affects us, our family. This,” it was her turn to wave the beer bottle, “doesn’t help anyone.”

He sat there mute, gazing up at her. Mary stared back at him for a long moment. Communication without words seemed almost effortless whenever the other was in trouble.

Rising with a heavy sigh, Bob circled the coffee table and took her in his arms. He isn’t as drunk as he’s pretending to be; that’s good, things need to be talked over, resolved. She returned the force of his embrace before pushing him out the front door.

Slumped against the door jamb, Mary watched her little brother, younger by five minutes, march across the street toward home and his waiting wife.