Robert Smith was a man that commanded respect, because of his compassion, his ability to be stern but not micromanage and his capacity to lead a company to over one billion dollars in revenue. He was also an iconic figure in the church, helping raise millions for missions all over the world. Robert was a man that everyone in the company and community admired.
* * *
“Robert, you look tired,” Fern told him. “Maybe you should take some time off. There are a lot of people depending on you.” Fern was the company’s senior vice president and a good friend of Robert’s; they had worked hard building this company.
“Thanks for your concern but I am not sure what I would do with free time now that Maria has left,” he told her. He had confided in her before, his words were safe.
“Well, let me know if you need anything, Robert, remember no one is perfect. I’m meeting with Procter at ten so I have to get moving.” She said still looking at him, concern in her voice.
When the door shut he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the bottle of grey goose vodka he had been craving. He poured about three shots worth into a shiny crystal rocks glass that he had brought from home. He was in desperate need of relief from last night’s mourning, and hopeful the vodka would quickly heal his shaking hands. He finished the vodka and opened a mint, an attempt at covering his breath although he still had concern.
He quit drinking shortly after he met his wife Maria, not because she demanded he quit, she didn’t even ask it of him, because she inspired him to stop. “She made me want to change,” he once told a church member. Several times in their twenty seven years together he said she was the reason for his success.
The vodka started to set in and the shakes subsided, his mind began to wander and replay the events that happened months before.
“Take that drink and I will walk out of here for good,” Maria said.
Why did I take that drink? I guess my pride might be the death of me. Why did I start again? Maybe it is the stress at work. So many people are depending on me during this recession, we have to keep building.
After the divorce papers were served, the moment he actually realized he pushed it too far, he would never have her back, in that moment the alcohol was no longer enough.
* * *
He slammed the door as he entered his house, a feeling of emptiness filled him where the fullness of family used to reside. He was almost running at this point, needing a release.
What will the church think? How long can I keep this up before the directors find out and fire me?
The needle pierced his skin and an indescribable rush filled his body. He would have to worry about all that later, for now he was at peace.
Response to the Daily Prompt: A Mysery Wraped in Enigma