Chances

He’s hungry. He makes himself eggs and feeds his cat. Rain pours. The rhythm brings him back to the years before his mother passed. Pork stew. Fresh bread. A dirty tablecloth. Beige plates with gold rims.

He had to finish his greens before he could go play. But he never did. His father wasn’t around. That’s what he needed. A man to discipline and tell him he can’t yell in a girl’s face and threaten her with a baseball bat for stealing his bologna sandwich. Now his own wife hits him.

Mornings aren’t bright. Two people meant to be lovers are tired of each other’s faces. She smokes. He smokes more. She drinks. He’s quit. They can’t have kids and he feels lucky. She blames him. He’s a bastard because he doesn’t pay her attention.

They attend church. She admires the pastor who’s aged well. Tall. Silver hair. A nice suit. He stares at the single woman with a Bible on her lap. Curvy. A pretty smile. Cleavage showing. They go home and make love for the first time in six months.

He jots his dreams on a coffee-stained napkin: write a book, build a house, die before seventy. He crumples and throws it on the ground. The wind blows it toward the gutter. It’s where she accidentally dropped her ring. He saved up for a year to buy it.

When he proposed, she said, sure. That’s when he knew it’d all go downhill. But he didn’t want to die alone. Now he thinks she’ll kill him. She thinks he’ll kill her. Whenever she’s on the couch, she checks the kitchen. She’s worried one day he’ll come up behind her and strangle her to death.

She hates his cat. The cat gets kidney disease. He doesn’t want to take him to the vet. He places him in the filled tub and buries him in the backyard. He cries for the first time in twelve years. She tells him it’s just a cat.

He hates her. She says he needs to grow up. She shoves him. He yells and shoves her back for once. The neighbors comfort her as she’s hysterical. She explains he’s abusive and killed his cat. It’s him versus everyone else.

His fear becomes a reality. He’s dying. Alone. He slumps in a chair and counts dots on the popcorn ceiling. The windows are covered. Outside is another chance to live and fail. He doesn’t have any chances left.