The lure of alcohol

He was never a man of words. He just couldn't find himself to say what he wanted. He had lived all his life like that. His wife got him somehow. Him, his silence and his anger. Everything. He lost her. He felt dumb and trapped again.

This silence was killing him. Slowly but surely. He decided he had to take matters into his own hands or else he would lose her. He had accepted the death of his wife but losing her would be something that his conscience would not let him live with.

He picked up the phone. Put it down again. Took a sip of beer and called again. Yeah, just a sip of beer would do. Put the phone down again. One bottle down. Soon, he would be drunk. No, calling her drunk would just be wrong. He called.

She picked up, "Hey, what's up? Where are you?"

He answered, "In my hotel room"

"Where? In which city?"

"Delhi"

"Is it hot? Raining? It is crazy hot here"

"Do you drink?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"I prefer whiskey but with the pocket money I get I can only afford rum and the occasional vodka. Why do you ask?"

"Ok. Remind me to buy you a nice bottle of single malt when you are back."

"Are you serious? How drunk are you?"

"Do I have to be drunk?"

"Ok. Maybe not. What do you want in return?"

"Nothing. Why do you ask so many questions you want it or not?"

"Okay. Okay. Don't act all grumpy. But don't forget this."

"Hmmm. Did you go to college today?"

"Yep. Had the most boring class but well, internship begins tomorrow so I can be busy all the time. Plans to come here soon?"

"Not for a while atleast."

"Okay. I think I need to rush for dinner now. Talk to you later?"

"Fine. But call home."

"Yep. Will do, dad. Bye."

Maybe, this wasn't so hard after all. He could do this more often and maybe without alcohol or the lure of it.