Almost Ruined

It was late. Through the open window I could see the dark sky looming down at me. If I looked close enough I could just make out the frost slowly starting to form on the glass. Usually I enjoyed the natural things in life, but tonight it felt wrong to enjoy something so peaceful. I felt calm. I shouldn't. The Lord should strike my Christian heart for what I had done. I had betrayed His trust. My eyes felt heavy with tiredness and putting my hands behind me I leant back, almost allowing myself to succumb to sleep. I didn't know if I could ever sleep again. Would the Devil let me?

Moving slowly from the small bed I was sitting on, the covers still ruffled, I looked around the cramped hotel room. There was an old desk, it was aged by time but not worn with use. Sitting on top of its damaged wood was the Good Book. Did I dare? I walked towards the desk and picked up the book. Underneath it sat a woman's handkerchief. It looked perfectly innocent, except for the long smear of red lipstick. It was the same one that Charlotte had worn all throughout our encounter. Angela never wore red.

I had spent my day as I said I would I went to work at the cement factory, and following knock off, headed towards the pub. I always loved going to that place, it gave me a sense of freedom that being home did not allow me to have. I knew that my wife did not agree with me being on the drink, but I couldn't help it. It was an addiction, like a forbidden kind of love.

I walked into the bar. The familiar scent of alcohol and cheer seeped into my body, just as it always had. On this particular night I felt in need of a drink more greatly after such a grueling day at the factory, however, I knew that Angela was waiting at home with the kids. I wouldn't stay long, just one drink and then off to home with the Friday pay.

Taking a seat on one of the rickety bar stools, I waited to be served.

"Can I help yer?" the bar tender asked me.

I told him that I wanted, a whiskey, and paid my charge. I looked around the room at the old and new faces. Then I noticed one person over all of the other newcomers, she was youthful and dressed in nice elegant clothing. Her dress swept over her womanly curves perfectly and the material looked like it was worth more than the entire pub put together. Her face was soft and her smile enticing. Looking up at me she smiled. It was so unlike Angela's smile. It danced in her eyes. Walking over to me a slight sway in her step, she took a seat on the stool beside me. "Hello," she said. "How are you this evening?" I could tell from her accent that she was American.

I told her that I was well, she smiled again. "I'm Malachy," I told her beaming slightly, "Who might yer be?"

"I'm Charlotte." Her voice was lovely, not as hard as Angela's. There was something husky in the way that she spoke.

"Have you ordered a drink?" She asked me.

"Aye I have, yerself?" I replied.

"No I haven't," she looked away a little.

"Well would yer like one?" For some reason I wanted to please this new woman. Before she could answer, I hailed the barman. "Somethin' for the lady," I told the man, taking a sip of my own drink.

"Thank you Malachy," she said to me sweetly.

"So are you enjoying it in Ireland?" I asked, "I could tell you about my time in the IRA if you'd like?"

"That would be nice," Charlotte agreed, taking her drink from the barman.

She was definitely lovely.

As the night drew on, Charlotte and I became closer. With each drink we became merrier and our speech more slurred.

"Time for ye two ter leave, I'm shuttin' now." The barman told us, taking the glasses from the counter top and making a gesture towards the door.

I wasn't ready to go though. I had not felt so good since Angela and I met. Maybe it was the alcohol but I didn't care.

"I think I'm drunk". Charlotte slurred breaking me from my thoughts. She tried to stand, stumbling slightly. It looked as if she was going to fall so I moved to grab her, but I under estimated how much the drink had affected me. I fell to the floor.

"You alright Malachy?" She asked me looking down at my crumpled form on the pubs floor.

I told her that I did not feel well and she suggested that I go upstairs to her hotel room for awhile to rest my head before I went home. Thinking that it was a good idea, I stood slowly. I hoped that I would be sober by the time I went home for Angela. If I was going to be late it would be better to be sober when I explained why there was no pay cheque again. We stumbled up the stairs, both leaning on each other for support. She felt warm. Once we made it to her room Charlotte suggested we have another drink. What was one more?

I saw her supply of drink sitting on the cabinet. I never knew a woman that kept that much alcohol for herself. I thought it might have something to do with her being foreign. She offered me drink after drink. I knew that I had to go home but for some reason I just couldn't move. Looking into Charlotte's large blue eyes, I reached out and stroked her blonde hair leaning in and kissing her softly. I did not know why I did it, but it felt right even though I could smell the alcohol on our lips. She kissed me back and then…

Black.

When I awoke my clothes were ruffled, I felt slightly disoriented and my head was pounding. I was sober. Looking to my side I could see Charlotte, she was sleeping peacefully. I noticed that her clothes were different, she was no longer wearing her red dress but a night gown much like Angela's except more expensive looking. Then my stomach dropped. Angela! What had I done?

I could not remember anything after that kiss. Did I sleep with Charlotte?

I sat up and rounded to the end of the bed, where I perched myself to think a little. What was I to do? It was late. Through the open window I could see the dark sky looming down at me. If I looked close enough I could just make out the frost slowly starting to form on the glass. Usually I enjoyed the natural things in life, but tonight it felt wrong to enjoy something so peaceful. I felt calm. I shouldn't. The Lord should strike my Christian heart for what I had done. I had betrayed His trust. My eyes felt heavy with tiredness and putting my hands behind me I leant back, almost allowing myself to succumb to sleep. I didn't know if I could ever sleep again. Would the Devil let me?

Moving slowly from the small bed I was sitting on, the covers still ruffled, I looked around the cramped hotel room. There was an old desk, it looked worn with time but not use. Sitting on top of its damaged wood was the Good Book. Did I dare? I walked towards the desk and picked up the book. Underneath it sat a woman's handkerchief. It looked perfectly innocent, except for the long smear of red lipstick. It was the same one that Charlotte had worn all throughout our encounter. Angela never wore red.

I had to get home. Even if I had slept with Charlotte, Angela was my wife. I put down the book and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the counter. Angela couldn't know that I wasn't at the pub. She must never know how I betrayed her. I started moving towards the door but stopped when I saw Charlotte out of the corner of my eye.

"Malachy?" she whispered, waking slowly. I began to walk out.

"Don't leave," she said.

"I have ter, I have almost ruined my marriage Charlotte. Don't let me break it completely," I couldn't look at her, my head hung in shame.

"Don't look so defeated Malachy", she whispered with her soft American voice, "I wouldn't let a man break his holy vows, I saw the ring. Go home."

I did just that. I turned slightly to look at her and smiled a little.

"Goodbye Charlotte...and thank you" I said, before disappearing out of sight.

I was going home; home to Angela.