My Husband is a Drunk
And I don’t know how, why or when it started
I can’t really tell when the drinking began. But I do remember that for the longest time, in our house, sandwiches would go down with orange juice; a breakfast of pancakes, with back tea and hot-dogs, with coke. The odd beer would spend weeks in the refrigerator, reserved for a particular meaty dinner.
That was that.
There was no wine, whisky, gin. Nothing. Apart from the sporadic beer, alcohol would only make an appearance for celebrations, dinner parties, Christmas. And we’d have to go out and buy the stuff for the occasion.
Someone gave us a champagne bottle when we bought our house. It was in the refrigerator for years. Sometimes we wondered if it’d gone off.
Today?
Well, I often ask myself if I’ll ever find him drinking perfume. I knew a drunkard who did that. Saw it with my own eyes. Once everything else was gone, he went to the bathroom and gulped down his wife’s perfume. Afterwards he chewed on a lemon. Presumably to get rid of the aftertaste.
I was a kid and that made quite an impression on me.
So, yes, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find him doing the same thing.
