Stories from outside your window part 4

They had fought again.It was becoming a hobby nowadays.They weren't seeying each other daily, but almost always when they'd meet, words would be exchanged.
Heavy ones. Words that hurt more than flower vases thrown around or broken chairs or photos ripped apart.
Words that would leave bigger scars than any knife, that would make them feel worse than being slapped.
But it didn't matter.They were fighting with a passion. Passion that they didn't share for the reconcilliation afterwards.
That would come by itself, when they wouldn't speak to each other for days.
They had fought again.
It was the same ol', same ol'.
''Give up on the booze'', she would say, ''it's messing up your thinking!''.
''Give up on going to bed with other men'', he would say, ''you're becoming a slut!''
Her first motives she implied were she was just trying to get a better pay at her job place, for both's sake.She had told him it wasn't anything between her and the ''lovers''.
He, on the other hand, was giving the blame on long, hard days at work, missing her. He was always on the road, driving almost entire days sometimes.
''Bollocks!!'' he would tell her.
''Bullshit!!'' she'd scream at his reasons.
He slammed the door behind him. It was passed midnight, the neighbours would call the police.It was about time for him to leave. He was only in town for one day and this is what it turned out to be.
He was starting work at ten in the morning, but he had no place to sleep till then. He didn't feel like going back and apologise, it wasn't his thing.
The city looked deserted. A few cars here and there, nothing that could be called traffic. On highways, where he spent most of his day, this was called ''ghost time''.His job was transporting. All day long behind the wheel, eyes focused on the road.
It was a love-hate thing for him.He thought about her.Four years of marriage and he felt like he'd been renting her all this time.
Out of all this time being her husband, he'd barely spent more than two years altogether.Did he even love her anymore? That was a tough question to answer on the spot. They had had their ups and downs, like every other relationship.
He kept walking down the street. Hence he was always in movement for his work, everything looked static now. And it was, indeed.
He stopped, took a deep breath. He was thinking about going back to her, apologise for what it's worth and spend the night there, at least this time.
He made a u-turn, but his feet wouldn't respond to his mind anymore by the time he had reached half way there.He just couldn't do it.He had a better idea.He turned away from the flat's direction to find a bar.
There must've been one still open.The ''owner hasn't got shit else to do'' type.And he was right.

It didn't take him crossing two boulevards, switching corners thrice and there he was , facing it.
He looked inside.
A middle-aged man behind the counter, back-facing him, watching the sport results on a tv that was hanging atop the spirits section.
He went in.The door made an annoying alarm-type sound as it opened.The supposed owner turned his gaze on him, remote still in his hand.
-Hey! he jabbered through his teeth, half-mouthed.
-Hi.
Closed the door, having to hear the door-click noise again, he hated that.
-Are you still open or am I after closing time?
The bartender looked at him. His faced had the''are you shitting me'' look on. He took a while till he responded.
-Well, the door is open, I'm inside, tv is on. I don't know.....Course we're open mate. Get your heart out of your mouth and take a seat.
-Thanks.
It was the first time he smiled that evening.He got seated at the bar. The place barely had any tables, and those looked small and uninviting to have your drink on.
Besides , what better way to enjoy your lager, or any drink for that matter, than having a total nonsense chat with the bar-keeper.
The bar tender put both hands on the counter before him, leaning forward.
-So, what shall it be, mate?
-Ehm...
He had a minor lack of inspiration.
-A beer, to start with, thank you!
-Certainly , mate!
-Cheers!
-Cheers!
In a blink of an eye he had his draught in front of him, a cold foamy pint just waiting to be savoured. He said cheers once again and had his first gulp. Damn, it tasted nice.
He didn't know why, but every time the drink had another, different bettered taste. His likings ranged from lager to wine to whisky. He wasn't the type to refuse. But he sticked to a certain brand with every beverage.
He had a story for every beer he'd drunk, from the grain being harvested to the hops being put in it.
Damn, it tasted nice.Come to think about it, he realised he knew more things bout beer or alcohol than his wife. On his scale beer ranked ninth, whilst she was sixth.
Maybe it was because he wasn't getting much sex with her. Let the thoughts just slide by
-So, what brings you here at this time and hour? the bar keeper asked with more curiosity than inquisition. Don't tell me it's for a girl!
He raised his eyes from the pint onto him.
-Well, it's kinda complicated..My wife and I had a fight and I'm just trying to clear my head a bit....
-Right......The man sounded unconvinced.
-You live around here, don't you!? I've seen you at the market on Fleet Street a couple of times.
-Yeah, my flat is close-by. I haven't been here yet, I normally have my drinks at home. I just needed to get away.
He crawled his fingers on the pint.
-We all get that, mate. They cheat, we drink....
He let out a laugh. How ironic it was, the man behind the counter had no idea what it was all about, yet it seemed so general and normal that that would be the case.He finished his pint. Asked for a refill. They kept talking for a while.
Hours passed and pints were drunk. He managed to get a sleeping space on a small, old and rather smelly sofa near the toilet.
-Make sure you wake up till seven, the other shift comes in then and I don't want you or me to get in trouble. the bar-keeper had said.

The phone's alarm had gone off. It was ten to seven in the morning. His head was spinning, the muscles hurting right through to the bone.
He felt like a sixty year old, although he was in his thirties. Nevertheless, he got used to everything. It was no new state he was passing now.
He got up, stretched and walked out of the bar.The barkeeper was still sleeping in another room.He had two hours ahead of him before going back to his truck and start work.
It was a cold autumn morning.
He hated autumn.
In autumn everything left life behind, the trees, the streets, the sky, the people.
He thought autumn was a zombie-season.Steam came out of his mouth as he yawned.
What should he do in this spare time. He went back to the parking lot where he'd have his truck.He used a toothbrush, soap to freshen up. he didn't feel like shaving. Put everything in it's right order and headed back to the bar.
By this time the new shift had been settled already and nobody would ask a thing.The bar was full of morning persons. He wasn't one of them. Even though he was forced to wake up early, that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
He hated it, actually.
He hated people looking all smiley and jolly before ten o'clock.''What's wrong with you people?Wife's kicked you out of bed?'' he thought. Hmmm....The wife.
He wasn't far from the case himself.He ordered a double coffee and a shot of whisky. Make that double as well. That would warm him up a bit.
He looked around, the tables had a few empty cups waiting to be cleaned and there were cigarettes butts lying on the floor as if the Smokers Association had just been holding a congress there.
-Have you got a newspaper, mate? he asked the new, younger bar-keeper.

He received one of those thin, free-given, not-much-to-read newspaper.
There wasn't tons of info he could get from it, but he felt like ''washing'' his eyes on something.Makes him more focused on driving afterwards. he ordered himself a small beer and another whisky, slipping through the paper's pages, looking like a regular.
By the time he got back to his truck he'd drunk three beers and two double whiskey. The breakfast of a champion.
He took another unopened bottle of ale with him, just in case he'd get thirsty on the road.He jumped into the driver's seat, adjusting all things necessary, looked at his watch.He didn't pass by his wife to say goodbye.
He thought it brought bad luck.He took out the bottle from the bag and opened it. He looked around to make sure no one's eyeing him and began to experience with its taste. He felt the same way he'd felt the first time having an ale. He was drinking it with such a haste, then he was tasting it slowly, as if it was his last.
Threw the bottle out the window and proceeded on the road. It took half an hour to make it out the traffic ring around the city.
He wasn't keen on entering and getting out of town. He knew how much hassle that included.The alcohol hadn't made its effect on him yet, but he felt in a good mood now.he started laughing and humming.
He put an old Vangelis tape into the player.
He was feeling top notch. The day had turned out sunny, after a previous rainy week. He pressed the pedal, the highway was inviting him to give full throttle.He turned the volume to the max.Besides drinking, that was the only thing he cherished that had not cheated on him.His eyes became watery, he couldn't distinguish the commands anymore.
He tried to rub his eyes but he couldn't.
At one point he thought he'd see his wife in the middle of the highway waving at him.He pushed the brake , trying to avoid ''her'', but lost control of the wheel.
Tyres screetched, the truck made an u-turn and hit three other cars in the process, then it flipped on one side, crushing a couple more under it's heavy weight.
Chaos had set foot on the highway. He had died almost instantly from the violent impact.
He had had his last beer, after all....

She searched for her phone. He didn't pass by to say goodbye, ne never did, but the fight they'd had, had taken bigger proportions this time. she dialed his number, but nobody picked up.

Second attempt, third...same thing.
She sighed and went into the livingroom, turned on the tv. She had let the office know she'd take a day off. She didn't feel like facing everyone, looking like she did :bloated eyes from crying all night long, messy hair and red spots on her neck and chest.
She'd get those whenever annoyed, stressed or angry. She flipped through the channels, but there was nothing to see, really. It was barely eleven.
''We interrupt the programme for breaking news. The A1 has suffered a chain of accidents just half an hour ago. The situation is critic. All exits are blocked. Nothing is known about the cause that triggered the event, but eye witnesses claim it all started from a large transport truck losing its way in traffic and damaging a few other cars. The firemen and highway police are doing their best in getting everyone injured as soon as possible to the nearest hospital.the death toll as till now is seven. we'll be back with further information.....''
The announcement made her freeze.
The screen had a ''Highway to Hell'' title for the breaking news, and it remained stuck to her eyes. They hadn't given any names, but she knew it was him.
She could imagine him having a laugh while drinking his last beer, pushing the pedal, feeling confident.
Earlyer the morning she had thought about calling him to try to reconcilliate all. She thought about giving up seeying other men and be closer to him to overcome his drinking problem.
Maybe they had passion for love, not only for fighting. But now, she stopped thinking.
There would be no reconcilliation anymore, there would be no discussion about having the last drink. She remembered the few times talking about ''a last drink''.
-This is your last drink, Nate! she'd scream at him when he'd be drunk.
His answer was puking after he'd nod.
But now, there would be no her.
No him, anymore, no more together.
No more love.
All those words vanished from her vocabulary......
She remained frozen, breaking news title caught up in her retina...
Highway to Hell.