Norman

         

From a great height he descended, did Norman Johnson, a man who thought he had nothing to live for anymore. Annie, his wife of thirty-two years had succumbed to painful pancreatic cancer and the loss was a violent rupture in the sweet center of his being. It was like watching Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory and having snuff/atrocity footage suddenly spliced in.  It was that sudden. It was that rough.

     So Norman plummeted. He was sure Beth, his 26-year-old daughter wouldn’t miss him. Despite their battling past she was still in his will. Her share should keep her in heroin for the rest of her life (meaning not long). Norman knew she wouldn’t use the money wisely; use it to fix her situation. She’d have enough to buy a house, but she didn’t seem to mind living in crab-infested flophouses. Letting sweaty repulsive junkies take advantage of her. What money that doesn’t get sucked into her squabbling veins will go to her lowlife squabbling friends. Beth was gifted with a generous spirit. She always shared her toys when she was little. Now she gave it all away.

      So Norman plunged. The lion’s share of the inheritance would go to his little brother, Albert who would probably lose most of it at the dog track. Oh well, it’s not like Norman would care by that point. And that’s it, all his money would go to the two last living members of the Johnson clan.  And he was sure they’d both use it to fuck everything up.

     So Norman dropped. Going through Annie’s illness, all the things he had to do to get her through Hell—and Hell it was—changed Norman in a profound way. It demonstrated how weak and afraid and ineffectual he was. He couldn’t save her. Every day she slipped further away until she was gone. How ironic was that? Norman Johnson, successful oncologist couldn’t even save his own wife. Let the nattering commence. His drinking problem was well known. There had been incidents. He couldn’t do surgery anymore because of his shaking hands. He wished for one last drink now. He wished for Annie. He didn’t believe in an afterlife. This was it. This was unbearable.

     So Norman descended. He’d climbed the stairs to the top of the medical building and stood on the roof, looking down at the forty stories of relentless gravity below him. Then he closed his eyes and stepped off the ledge.

     Norman fell.