Everyone sees it as damnation. “How could this happen?”, they say, “What did I do to deserve this?” Oh yes, they will say I, because in these times no one person considers another. I however see it differently. The bills were piling up, the jobs were getting cut faster than checks at the banks, the kids were always hungry and the wife was always, always bitching, engaging in never-ending nagging about SOMETHING was her specialty. “The food’s too hot, the food’s too cold, the diamond isn’t big enough, this isn’t the shade of white I wanted for the wallpaper…” A man has his limits, ya know?

So, continuing on, one long September day turned into an even longer September night… I’d worked overtime at the plant, just enough to put food on the table. Just as I was getting into my car, a trusty old beater I used in place of the family’s other vehicle (guess who insisted on using the new one); my phone signaled a text message from the wife. I sat aghast in my seat as I read it:

“Brian, this has gone on too long. All the long nights waiting up for you, the fights, the drinking… I can’t be with you anymore. I’m taking the kids and our things to my mother’s tonight. Goodbye.
–Veronica”

…That BITCH. Long Nights? Overtime to put food on OUR table. The fights? Maybe if anything ever pleased her there wouldn’t BE any fights… The drinking? THE DRINKING?!? GUESS WHY I DRINK?!

Okay Brian, I told myself, be cool…

I drove home in silence, even the radio off. That was the longest half hour of my life, with nothing but the wind in my ears and my thoughts to keep me company. As I finally pulled into the driveway, I looked at my home… No, scratch that, my house. The house my father and I had put so many sweat-ridden days and nights into 6 years before his untimely passing. I unlocked the door and sat down at the kitchen table, contemplating everything. What should I do? What COULD I do? After a little while, my old friends Jack and Jim came out of the cupboard. They helped me think, made me feel like everything would turn out okay… “Yes,” I thought; “Everything’s gonna be alright. Just take it all in stride Brian, you’ll be just fine”… The click of the front door handle startled me out of my thoughts. I rounded the corner to the living room and met eyes with…her.

“Hi… I just came to pick up some of my things” she said. “Oh… Okay…” I replied.

I sat back down as she gathered up things from around the house. The silence was deafening, tearing my eardrums apart. Eventually I turned to her… “Hey, let me help…”
She looked at me, a deer in headlights for what seemed like forever, before she finally replied, “Sure, yeah… thanks.” “No problem…”

We carried out various things to MY new car, almost an hour passed before a word was spoken. “Hey, that’s my new toolset.”

She stared at me before saying, “I bought it for you.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “FOR MY BIRTHDAY!!!” I said, raising my tone. She shrugged and put it in the car anyway.

Quickly, before I knew what I was doing, I calmed down and asked “Could I at least get my father’s screwdriver back?”

“Sure,” was the response.

She turned to go through the box and I spoke up. “No, I’ll get it”.

She sighed and headed back to the house. Once I got the screwdriver in my hand, an idea popped into my head… One of those crazy ideas that people get when driven just a bit… too… far. I laughed inside as I toyed with the idea. I laughed out loud when I convinced myself to go through with it…

It’s been nearly two weeks since that day, and a little over one since the outbreak. As I sit in the airport I smile, knowing that the Z’s have cleaned up any and all remnants of my unspeakable act. I feel a slight pang of sadness as I think of the children and their grandmother, but there was no way to explain to them anyhow. I imagine the Z’s have taken care of them too. I have made myself inconceivably happy, and no one will ever know or care. And to think, my joy might make them think that I am the mad one, for I am the only one who thinks the outbreak was a blessing.