The Drunk

Last Friday I went to the pub as usual. I was suffering from the lack of inspirations. I ordered a doubled whisky and sat at the bar.

So, are you drinking alone?

I turned around. There was a man standing there. He was of median age, some fat, in a smartly but wrinkled deep blue suit. Mostly speaking, he was clean. Obvious he was a little loaded, and he was accosting me. But I’m not interested in accosting with a man.

They said you’re a writer. I’ve got a story here. Are you interested?

I turned to the bartender. He tried hard not to notice my suspicion. I turned back to the man. He had already sat on the chair next to me without my permission.

What makes you think I’ll be interested?

You’ll certainly be. It’s the most interesting story you’ve ever heard before, and you’ll never know another one.

Oh yes? I was enraged by his insolent attitude. What makes you think I’ll need it?

You surely do. People always drink alone when they are in lack of inspirations.

I was surprised. This did interest me. I looked at him for a while.

What would it cost?

Nothing. I just have got a story and want someone to write it down.

I considered for a while. At least I had nothing to lose. Finally I accepted his suggestion.

So, what is your story?

So you finally accept my suggestion. He took a sip.

I was married with a beautiful young woman who had a beautiful black long hair. She was so attractive that no one would escape from her magical charm. Oh yes, she was beautiful. And she was tender, too. She was so tender that she could cure any hurt of a brave man. Her skin was softly white, so soft that you’ll never want to get off while you are in her arms. Her figure, her smile, that figure that would capture any dynamic young heart. Oh, that was her.

In fact, I was one of them who were charmed by her attraction. I fell in love when I first saw her. You can’t believe how I was struck by the figure of her standing behind the setting sun. She was just like an angel fallen from the heaven above. Yes, she was an angel for me. I believed it at the first sight I saw her.

How lucky I was! After a hard process of courting she finally nodded her lovely head. We finally got married. We’ve had a such good time. People envied us. Everyday I worked hard for us outside, thinking that she is waiting for me at home. When I got home in the evening, she stood there, at the front door, smiling at me. At the dinning table I’d tell her the whole story I’ve been all day long, and she’d be very concentrated to it. Then she would add another bowl for me, telling me the jokes she heard from the market at day. We talked and laughed, talked and laughed, talked and laughed, till we forgot the time and the thing that we were still dinning. We often had dinner from six to eleven, but we didn’t care.

But things changed. She did not stand at the front door anymore. She laughed to me fewer and fewer times. She was so attractive, you know. Although we’d married, there were people still courting her all the time. One day I found her dating with a young man on the street. I was so jealous! How could she do this to me? That evening the first thing I did when I got home was to question her. We argued and argued. I must have lost my mind then. Finally I grabbed a table knife and plugged it into her chest. She screamed. Her blood was bursting out from her heart. After several minutes, she died.

After a while of silence, I said:

So, is that all?

Yes, that’s all. I killed her.

When did it happen?

Not long ago. Just about last Thursday.

You are not a good lier, you know, I smiled. You have bad skills.

You know that?

Anyone who killed his wife with jealousy won’t have such a self-confident smile like you. Besides, it’s not as interesting as you have said…

That’s not true. I know a story about a friend that killed his wife with jealous that is more self-confident than me…

So, I cut him off, why not tell me the true story?

You do think I have another true story?

You might not, and I don’t care. I turned around. I would like to leave now.

Alright. I surrender. I just want to ensure that you’re truly a writer. I’ve won the game now. I’ll tell you the true story. He started.

It was about forty years ago. I was a student, then, in a small senior high school in the country. She was my classmate, sitting just at the seat next to me. I was volatile then, with a lot of friends around. But she was always alone, and never played with us. She was quiet. She was inconspicuous, you know. She came from a rich family, and always looked well-cultivated. That’s okay. We were not as rich as she was. So we never cared to play with her. In fact we hated her.

One day I wanted to go home earlier. I surprisedly found that she went home in the same direction with me. I’ve never noticed her before, and this enkindled my curiosity. So I followed her home. (I’d got to follow her home, for she lived at the half way of mine.) She noticed me, too, and we began to talk. We talked and talked, about this and that. I found that she was not as solitary as I thought before. She just did not like nonsensical chatting. In fact, she was very tender. She was not pretty at all, but she was tender, and lovely. She was kind, very kind, that every time I told her a story about my friends, she would be very concentrated listening, and burst out a laughter when I told her a joke. We talked and talked, laughed and laughed, till we forgot we were on our way home. But finally we’ve reached her home, and we said goodbye to each other at her front door. We became friends.

From then on, we became friends, but not the kind of other friends that around me. In the day I still played around with my old mates and talked little with her, but on my way home often I rejected their invitations and walked home with her. Sometimes I even waited for her at her front door in the morning on our way to school. They said I were falling in love with her, and so they laughed at us. I did not care. I merely liked to talked with her. But words spread quickly, and soon her parents were informed. They disliked me, and sometimes drove me out for some ridiculous excuse. They endured me only for the reason of being polite. But we did not care, too. We were merely friends then, and there was really nothing between us.

Three years had passed, and we entered the same college. We became true lovers. We were free dating without her parents aside. But I was still volatile then, and so my life was divided into two different worlds: In one world there was she waiting, and in the other I was playing around with my other friends. I liked this division, and so did she. There were always friends of her murmuring around her that I did not deserve her, that I was a flirt and that she ought to find someone new. There were my friends, too, persuading me that she was not pretty at all, that she was too inconspicuous for me and that they would like to introduce someone new that is prettier and tenderer. But we cared them not. We liked the way we were. She knew me well, and she knew that finally I’d always return to her every time. I knew it, too. In the day I played around with my friends, boys and girls, and at night before the girls’ dorm was closed, I hurried there and asked someone to deliver a letter or some desert for me. Sometimes she would be standing by the window waiting for me, and wave her hands when she saw me. Then I’d wave mine, too, and wait there for her to come downstairs. Then we talked and laughed, talked and laughed, as usual. We both had a good time, then.

Another four years had passed, and we were both graduated from school. Though not spoken out, something we’d been worried for so long had coming near. Yes, we’d be married. But how should I tell her parents? You know, they liked me not at all. When I told them I would marry their daughter, you cannot imagine how frightened they were! They didn’t refuse me directly, out of politeness, but rather they persuaded her again and again. They even motivated her relatives to persuade her! They thought we (my family and I) were not as rich as them, and I did not deserve her at all! Of course they wouldn’t use the word deserve. Rather they said He’s not suitable for you. But she loved me. She loved me so much. Finally they gave up, and although they submitted us some difficult conditions, we were successfully married.

But I was enraged. They were too much, you know. We were not rich, though, but we were not the kind of scoundrel they thought! How could they speak of us in this way? At that night of my marriage I swore, oh yes I swore, that I’d never touch her, never, till they had admitted that I was the one for their daughter, the one who deserved that, and everything. Oh yes, I swore…

He paused, and took a sip. We came to a silence.

…You said… you swore that you would never touch her until they had admitted you? I asked him with disbelief. The whole stuff is ridiculous.

Yes, till they had admitted me. He continued. That’s the time when our marriage truly begins. I wanted them to admit my existence.

The next morning I canceled all the arrangements for our marriage, including our honeymoon tour. I told her our decision. She just sitting there, said nothing. I told her I was sorry for her. I was really sorry. I knew she would be sad, the whole stuff was unfair to her, but all I could say was I’m sorry. Things had to be going on this way.

That’s okay. I could understand. Just do as you wish. I’ll always be here with you. After several minutes of silence, she said. I lay down in her arms. Tears dropping from my cheeks.

Then I resigned from my current job, and took another job that was a lot harder but would have a far better future development. (In fact I started to learn about trading.) I worked hard in a factory in the day, after works I went for treats here and there, and at nights after I’ve been home I learned trading myself. It was a hard time then, but I was so determined that I could endure anything. And so was she.

But things did not change. They still chatting behind me. They said that I had treated their daughter badly. God knows why I was doing so! They said that I was self-abased in front of them, and that even so I should not treat her so badly. They even criticized my parents! They had never talked of these in front of me, but rather they chatted behind me. They thought I would never know, but I knew everything! I knew it from their eyes fallen on me, those eyes that were full of pride and contempt. They tried hard to pretend friendly, but it only made them dull.

I could endure any kind of hard work, but I cannot stand for those insults. But I could do nothing! Nothing! Finally I started to beat her. At first I tried hard finding some excuse of her, questioned her, and then beat her, with some feeling of being sorry for her. Gradually I beat her more and more often, more and more severely, again and again. I found myself starting to hate her. I began to go home late, drinking a lot, getting on bed with barmaids and other women, and when I went home after the midnight I woke her up and beat her, again and again, till I was all drunk and had fallen into asleep.

But she was always sitting there quietly. Saying nothing, she born all my beating until I was tired. Then she sent me to sleep. While I was beating her her eyes were full of mercy. Oh yes, those mercy eyes. I hated them. I hated them while I was beating her. I asked her thousands of times in my mind: Why? Why should you endure this? Why don’t you find yourself some excuse? Come on! Say something! Say something and I’ll forgive you. But it was of no use. She was still sitting there, again and again, saying nothing, and bearing all my beating.

Gradually it became ambiguous. I could not tell if I loved her or hated her, or which was much more than the other. I just beat her, again and again, with some kind of emotion that I knew not. It’s just like a symbol, you know. She’s just like a symbol, a reminder that reminded me all the miserable fate I’d been. She just stood there, and it reminded me all those contemptuous eyes fallen on me. It reminded our miserable love and my shameful falling. I hated to see her, but I’d got to beat her. I drank, slept with different women, but before the dawn I would always return home, and beat her. You see, I needed to beat her.

But you think I’d forgotten the words I’d swore at the day we were married? You’re wrong. I still remembered that pledge. I’d never forgotten it. It was just like a holy milestone, with words carved on it saying that: When reaching here, all the misery ends. Yes, it would end then. I’d be having a high standing, and they’d be conceding my consequence. And at that moment I would end all the miseries.

The day came. After several years of hard working I had a big company and several factories of my own. I had my own industry now. All I’d got to do is to make it the biggest one in our profession. So I immediately constructed a detailed great plan and got it working. It worked. When I read from the magazine that our industry had successfully become the first one on the billboard list this month I know that the destined day had come. I cannot wait for the off time. I cannot wait any longer. I immediately grabbed my suit and left my office. On my way home I went to the shop and prepared everything.

When I opened the door she was washing the clothes. As I had expected, she was shocked, for my coming home earlier. In fact, I’d never come home before it is darkened. I watched her tenderly, softly and gently. We were standing there. Suddenly I found that she was wounded. She was wounded everywhere. Oh yes, I remembered, that was the wound I’d caused last night, and that was the day before yesterday, and that was the day… But it’s okay. It would be the last time I beat her. There would be no more. I immediately took the bandages and swathed her. I looked into her confused eyes. I kept watching her, staring at her, glancing at her, looking at her, up and down, here and there, and everywhere. Oh, she was so beautiful! If not for those bandages! But it did not matter. Oh, she was so beautiful! I immediately embraced her into my arms.

Then I picked up a dagger from inside my suit, and plugged it into her chest. Blood flowed from her chest to her clothes, her bandages, her underwear, and finally to everything. She was surprised, confusedly looking at me. Suddenly she knew everything. She smiled, and smiled, and died.

There was a long silence between us. Finally I cleared my throat.

…I… I can’t see, you know. Didn’t you have any children with her? Haven’t her parents complained about it to you?

We had two children, a boy and a girl…

…But… Wait! How could this be possible?… I mean, you have never touched her…

They are merely nursing.

… Do they know that?

No, they don’t know. I’ve never told them.

But what about the police? It’s a murder! Didn’t they take any actions?

Money is power. He smiled. You’ve got to remember.

Suddenly I understood everything.

Accident?

Yes, accident. He took another sip. No one knows what happened, except me and her.

…So, what happened to you after that?

Well, I am married again, and we have another two children now, he added, of our own.

My career is fair now. Everything goes so smoothly and so well. Do you want to know which one my industry is? It is…

He told me a name that has strictly frightened me. It is the famous chemical industry that we would see every several days in the newspaper. I think I should rather omit it here, for I don’t want to frighten you, too.

See, I’ve told you, I will frighten you. Just write it down and write it well, okay? My great writer. He turned and left. It’s my treat.

I meditated the whole stuff for a long while. Suddenly I recalled something.

Hay, man! Wait! I turned and called him. He was just at the door.

What? He smiled.

How dare you tell this story to a stranger? Aren’t you afraid that I will tell the police?

As you wish. Who will believe you? He smiled, Besides, I’ve killed myself since the day I killed her.

He is right. Nobody will believe such a ridiculous story. But I cared nothing about it. I was thinking of the last few words he spoke. I’ve killed myself since the day I killed her. Well, I’m still thinking about it now.