Dear Husband...

By Christopher Padgett

Dear Husband... is filled with both the highs and lows of the human condition. From one woman’s descent into an alcohol fueled depression after her husband deploys to Afghanistan, to a letter filled with the seething venom another woman feels for her husband. Murder, suicide, depression, alcoholism, betrayal, and reconciliation coexist in this collection of short stories, not to mention a one-eyed dog, Hell's Angels, and a night of excess in Korea.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Padgett
• Release date: Jan 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311438881

Christopher Padgett

Christopher Padgett grew up in Alton, Illinois. When he was 21 (in 1996), he met and married his current wife. Since then, they have had three kids. They have been exceedingly fortunate to live abroad for a number of years. Much of the material he writes is set in either Germany or Korea, both of which he has called home. Mr. Padgett currently lives in Clarksville, Tennessee with his wife, three kids, and pug.

Book preview

Dear Husband…

by

Christopher Padgett

Copyright 2014 Christopher Padgett

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved.

Cover design by Ivana Obradovic

Table of Contents

Roberta

Writer’s Block

The Night Out

One-Eyed Pug

Dear Husband

About the Author

Roberta

Roberta opened her eyes just a crack. Light seeped in through the narrow slits. Her white comforter shone brightly in the early morning sunlight, contrasting against the dark cocoon of her bed that gave her comfort. Her world was no larger than the darkness it contained, and no worries extended beyond her bladder. The children were fairly self-sufficient. They knew how to get themselves to and from school. They knew there were days when Mommy didn’t feel well, days when she didn’t come down stairs at all. Roberta breathed deeply of her husband’s scent. He left four days earlier for Afghanistan. She breathed deeply and wondered what he was breathing, what he was smelling, what his experiences were at that moment. She closed her eyes against the darkness of her cocoon. She had to get up.

The very effort of moving her limbs from the warmth and security of the womb to actively moving the heavy blanket from her was exhausting. Roberta lay there, clad only in a pair of black cotton panties, the blanket entangled about her legs. Her eyes were open. Freed from her security blanket, she made a feeble attempt to rise from the unmade bed, stirring the air. Time for a shower, she thought. The ten steps from her bed to the bathroom may as well have been a mile. She continued to lay there until the slightest hint of urine seeped into her panties. Not in the bed. Get up. Sit on the toilet. Modesty aside, she walked in front of the open windows to the bathroom. Her jiggly parts jiggled but she didn’t care. Her man enjoyed the fullness of her figure. She pretended he was there to watch her, but she knew it would be months before she saw him again.

Last night’s wine still rested against a pile of dirty towels near the tub. Roberta uncorked the bottle of Bordeaux and drank heartily from it. Its dark flavours filled her mouth. The label on the bottle listed all its flavours, the ones she should have been able to identify, but none of which she could. She swallowed it and felt the slight burn of the alcohol as it entered her stomach. A drop dripped from her chin to her breasts. She let it trickle down to her belly. Her stretch marks guided the driblets like some kind of winding road map. If Harry were here, he would have licked it off. She finished emptying her bladder, wiped herself with a fistful of toilet paper, and kicked off her panties. She walked down the old oak stairs. Each step creaked as she stepped on it. It was a lot worse when they first moved into the place three years earlier. Harry thought he could fix anything, but there were only a few things he actually fixed in the seventy year old home. Many of his attempts went unfinished.

Roberta closed all the curtains on the first floor, not to keep passersby from seeing her, but to block out the bright morning light. She picked up the remote and clicked on their flat panel television. Harry had insisted they buy the thing, now he wasn’t there to enjoy it. She turned it on the cartoon channel. They were far more vibrant on this monstrosity than on their old set. There was no way she could stand to see any news coverage of the war. Harry assured her there was no way he would be in harm’s way, but she didn’t believe him. People died in wars and Harry, she knew, was a liar. He wasn’t fooling anyone. Scooby Doo was on. She stood transfixed for a moment, watching the show from her youth. She loathed Daphne. Thelma had the brains but was forever in Daphne’s shadow.

Roberta broke away from the

Reviews for Dear Husband...

[Alethea · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book pulls at so many emotions. Depression, fear, anxiety..feelings of devastation. Plus I even chuckled at one character. Then I found myself saying “What in the world”.. You’re pulled in to the character’s lives to the point where you want to go back and check on them. I hope there is a sequel