Bum Chronicles

Return home

When he had made it home his wife was sprawled on the couch, a bottle in one hand, a remote in the other. The TV blared advertisements, flashing colors in the otherwise dark room. Seeing her he scoffed and walked by, going straight to their bedroom and sitting back on the edge of the bed. He opened the drawer beside his bed and put the

baggie in, closing the drawer right after.

Sam put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes and groaning. His fingers still fridged.

Suddenly he stands up, going back to the living room where his wife is now snoring loudly, far outpowering the TV. He takes the remote from her hand and shuts off the TV, shoving her shoulder roughly before speaking.

"Laura, wake up. What did I say about drinking? you're supposed to go clean."

She mumbles and groans for a while while gaining consciousness,

"huh...? God my head..." She manages to say while fixing her posture, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sorry it was a long day," she mumbles.

"Long day my ass. You've been home all day, you're going to kill that damn baby by drinking like this." He replied quickly with increasing agitation. He tossed the remote onto the couch and walked to the kitchen.

"Did you even eat?" He calls out.

"I don't think so.God..." She holds her head as it pulses.

"Of course"

Laura lays back down on the couch, properly this time, slightly comforted by the darkness of the room.

Sam pulls a pot of day old rice out the fridge, setting it on the kitchen table; the only light illuminating the room was the open fridge. He didn't bother to open the lights knowing that Laura would complain about it.

"Fish or meat" He calls out.

"Meat, I can't stand the thought of fish right now"

"Meat it is" He confirms as he pulls a container of chicken from the fridge.

After putting in the rice and chicken on a plate, he put it in the microwave for a minute and thirty seconds, while it started he looked back to the living room at Laura, she was already falling back asleep. Looking back at the timer, forty seconds left. He taps his foot...

While zoning out slightly, the microwave beeps—he opens it— removing the plate carefully and removing a spoon from a drawer, pulling ketchup and barbecue sauce from a cabinet, pouring some on the side before walking to the living room. He reluctantly turns the lights on to Laura's dismay, she groans louder and throws her arm over her eyes.

She's a wreck, her amber hair messy and slightly matted, her shirt is stained and too small for her due to her growing stomach. she reeks of drinks.

"Get up, eat this then go to bed" He says while nudging her arm away from her face.

She struggles up and he helps her with one hand and places the food on her lap, waiting for her to pick up the spoon and eat. She stares at it for a while absentmindedly processing the task before picking up the spoon and mixing her rice with the ketchup, still not fully in the moment as her lackluster movements entailed. Sam picks up the empty bottle next to her and swirls it around a bit.

he frowned but his face shifted to a more

frustrated expression as his mood soured. He brings the bottle to his side in a swift motion, clenching it a tighter while walking to the kitchen to throw it out.

"I ain't buying anymore of these, so I better not see you drinking any more of it" He says while dropping it in the bin.

"Yeah, yeah, ok.” She replied, although she wasn't fully listening to him, with her attention now focused on eating.

Sam clicks his teeth and walks back to her, glad she's eating.

"Go straight to bed when you're finished, don't fall asleep on the couch."

She responded with a hum as he disappeared back in their room. He looks at the drawer with the baggie and contemplates taking it out. He glanced back to the living room before reaching for the handle.

The drawer is unorganized and messy. pencils, pens, loose coins, prenatal gummies, prescription pills, and the baggie littered around. He picked up the bag and considered it again before opening it and spilling some on the top of the drawer, lining it and taking a long drag.

For only a moment his head becomes clearer; he shuts his eyes and straightens out. Closing the bag he hid it somewhere under his bed so Laura wouldn’t find it. For ten long minutes he sits in silence staring at nothing while his hands clasped, his elbows on his legs, shoulders sagging.

Soon enough he gets up and checks on Laura.

She's asleep again, this time she had the decency to put the plate on the coffee table. Sam sighs and takes the plate. He placed it carefully in the sink then walked back to Laura, got a discarded blanket from the ground from the previous night and laid it over her; his hand rested on her shoulder as she slept peacefully, only for a moment. He turned the light off and went to bed.

When he had settled in he stared at the ceiling, his head buzzing, but the humming was the only thing that let him sleep at night.

His eyes drag as he drifts to sleep.

The next morning Sam is awoken by his loud beeping alarm. He hits the bedside table until the alarm turns off, knocking off Laura's last ultrasound printout from the table. After a few breaths and silence he heard the all too familiar sound of Laura throwing up her last meal, she didn't make the bathroom.