second the winkles reappeared on his old face. “I’m not going to lie it’s going to be hard, damn hard. We have access to plenty of wood, and we’ve got shelter…”
“It’s the food we have to be concerned about.” Grant finished for him.
Jack nodded in agreement. “With as many mouths as we have to feed we’re going to have to stay on our toes.” Jack gave him a genuine smile. “But to answer your question, yes I do think we can make it.”
Grant grabbed the axe tightly in his hands and turned back towards his duties. “I sure as hell hope you’re right.”
The old man left and went back over to the lake to watch Grant’s children. For the next 30 minutes Grant cut wood. With every swing he imagined the piece of wood as one of his problems and the axe the solution.
The need for food during a time when food was going to be all but non-existent.
THWACK
Cold that would go on for months and their only source of heat would be these pieces of wood.
THWACK
A son that was just waiting for him to abandon them.
THWACK
His muscles screamed and Grant finally dropped the axe and sat on the tree trunk. He looked at the dozens upon dozens of pieces of wood around him that he cut in the last few hours, and for what? How long would a piece of wood last, he honestly didn’t know. As he looked around his biggest fear was that all this work was only going to last them a day, if that. He was overwhelmed.
For a second he stared out at the lake. He watched Alya running around the borders of the lake over and over again. He saw Joseph playing in the dirt only a few meters from Alec and watched as every time Alya got near, the young boy would run over to hide near Alec. In the far distance he could see Ben in and out of the woods, “exploring” as he liked to call it. All of them depended on him, just like she had depended on him.
Grant went inside Jack’s house and grabbed a glass of water. On the man’s walls were pictures of a family long gone. Jack didn’t have kids but he had been married and there were many pictures of Jack with his wife. Frozen memories of better times, that’s what pictures were supposed to be. He always struggled to go through old family photos. Behind every smile he could see the battle raging inside him, or was reminded of a defeat that just had, or was just about to occur. Very few of his family photos were actually as happy as they were made out to be. Yet through every one of them she had been right there at this side.
He opened up a nearby cabinet to put up his glass and saw the one thing he didn’t need to see. Sitting all alone on the second shelf was a half-finished bottle of vodka.
Thirsty .
Grant wanted to close the cabinet door, he was certain his brain had sent signals to his arm to close it, yet it remained open.
Just a sip.
The bottle looked old, Jack must have just being drinking a little every now and then.
Just enough to feel that familiar warmth. Feel it going down my throat and warm up my belly.
Once again Grant told his arm to close the cabinet and once again nothing happened; only this time he was vaguely aware of reaching in and grabbing the bottle.
I’ve been through so much I deserve just a little drink. My problem before was that I drank too much, but that’s not possible anymore. There is only a little here and there are no longer stores to pick up more. If I have just a little now and a little later I can make this last a long time.
Grant sat the bottle down on the counter. He had been through this too many times. It always started as just a sip, just one drink, just one more, just this one night of drinking, but it never ended. He couldn’t do this, not again.
I’m going to fail them again, it’s inevitable, a small drink isn’t going to change that.
“It’s the food we have to be concerned about.” Grant finished for him.
Jack nodded in agreement. “With as many mouths as we have to feed we’re going to have to stay on our toes.” Jack gave him a genuine smile. “But to answer your question, yes I do think we can make it.”
Grant grabbed the axe tightly in his hands and turned back towards his duties. “I sure as hell hope you’re right.”
The old man left and went back over to the lake to watch Grant’s children. For the next 30 minutes Grant cut wood. With every swing he imagined the piece of wood as one of his problems and the axe the solution.
The need for food during a time when food was going to be all but non-existent.
THWACK
Cold that would go on for months and their only source of heat would be these pieces of wood.
THWACK
A son that was just waiting for him to abandon them.
THWACK
His muscles screamed and Grant finally dropped the axe and sat on the tree trunk. He looked at the dozens upon dozens of pieces of wood around him that he cut in the last few hours, and for what? How long would a piece of wood last, he honestly didn’t know. As he looked around his biggest fear was that all this work was only going to last them a day, if that. He was overwhelmed.
For a second he stared out at the lake. He watched Alya running around the borders of the lake over and over again. He saw Joseph playing in the dirt only a few meters from Alec and watched as every time Alya got near, the young boy would run over to hide near Alec. In the far distance he could see Ben in and out of the woods, “exploring” as he liked to call it. All of them depended on him, just like she had depended on him.
Grant went inside Jack’s house and grabbed a glass of water. On the man’s walls were pictures of a family long gone. Jack didn’t have kids but he had been married and there were many pictures of Jack with his wife. Frozen memories of better times, that’s what pictures were supposed to be. He always struggled to go through old family photos. Behind every smile he could see the battle raging inside him, or was reminded of a defeat that just had, or was just about to occur. Very few of his family photos were actually as happy as they were made out to be. Yet through every one of them she had been right there at this side.
He opened up a nearby cabinet to put up his glass and saw the one thing he didn’t need to see. Sitting all alone on the second shelf was a half-finished bottle of vodka.
Thirsty .
Grant wanted to close the cabinet door, he was certain his brain had sent signals to his arm to close it, yet it remained open.
Just a sip.
The bottle looked old, Jack must have just being drinking a little every now and then.
Just enough to feel that familiar warmth. Feel it going down my throat and warm up my belly.
Once again Grant told his arm to close the cabinet and once again nothing happened; only this time he was vaguely aware of reaching in and grabbing the bottle.
I’ve been through so much I deserve just a little drink. My problem before was that I drank too much, but that’s not possible anymore. There is only a little here and there are no longer stores to pick up more. If I have just a little now and a little later I can make this last a long time.
Grant sat the bottle down on the counter. He had been through this too many times. It always started as just a sip, just one drink, just one more, just this one night of drinking, but it never ended. He couldn’t do this, not again.
I’m going to fail them again, it’s inevitable, a small drink isn’t going to change that.
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