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Henry took another swig of his drink, standing in the dark. The lights in the kitchen were off, and he had no intention of turning them on. Estelle didn’t need to know he was drinking again. He felt a twinge of guilt join the almost-constant ache in his chest and head, but he just washed both down with another gulp of whiskey. The alcohol was the only way he was going to get through the day anyway. It would only put more stress on her if he didn’t have his drink.
Eager little footsteps pattered down the hallway. Henry hastily shoved his almost-empty bottle into the nearest cabinet and moved to turn the lights on.
“Daddy!” Cecilia pounced on him. Her high pitched squeals did no favours for his throbbing head, but he felt the weight in his chest lighten. Just a little.
Henry scooped her up, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Her curly hair was messy and sticking up over her small face like a fluffy cloud. “G'morning, sunshine.”
“You smell funny, Daddy,” Cece snuggled deeper in his arms, but he froze. Shit. Was it that obvious?
“Daddy just ain't brushed his teeth yet, sweetheart. You smell funny too.” Henry tried to keep his smile steady. “Go and get Mommy and get ready. Daddy'll make breakfast and get ready too, then we can go to watch the magic show.”
“YAY! Ma-gic, ma-gic, ma-gic!” Cecilia chanted as she scampered down the hallway to find Estelle. Once she was out of sight, Henry let his smile drop. Fuck. He needed a drink. Quietly, he opened the cabinet with his uncorked drink. The whiskey burned as it travelled down his throat, a familiar, comforting sensation. Everything would hurt less after this.
He scowled when he reached the bottom of the bottle. That wasn’t nearly enough to drink. But he was running out of time. Estelle and Cece would be coming down for breakfast soon. He opened the highest cabinet, the one no-one else could reach, and shoved his bottle in. A whole section of it was littered with the bottles he had that week. Estelle had been home most of the week, so he hadn’t had the chance to discreetly clear it yet.
He pulled out a pan. Might as well make something special today. He gathered flour and sugar and eggs, and Cece’s favourite — chocolate chips. He sifted and whisked and fried till he had a stack of hot chocolate chip pancakes. He smiled a little in satisfaction as he dished out the pancakes and set the table. He’d made sure that Cece’s pancakes had little chocolate smiley faces, and Estelle’s had large chocolate chip hearts. He just saved himself a single pancake, which just had chocolate chips indiscriminately littered throughout it, but he didn’t care. Everything tasted like ash anyway.
“Good morning, love,” Estelle glided down the hallway, Cece freshly cleaned and in her arms.
“G’mornin,’” he replied, keeping himself busy by grabbing the butter and maple syrup. If he looked her in the eye he knew she’d see right through him. She always did. “I’m gonna go get ready. You two ladies best begin first.” He set the butter down with a flourish. When Cece and Estelle both giggled, he relaxed. He was still safe.
The moment he closed the bathroom door behind him, he heaved a sigh of relief. He could finally let his guard down. He grabbed the small flask he’d hidden behind unopened bottles of soap and shampoo and rolls of toilet paper. He grimaced as he tipped its contents down his throat. Straight vodka was far from his favourite, but it got the job done. He felt the pounding headache lessen. Good enough. He straightened and started properly getting ready, brushing his teeth, changing, and combing his hair.
He took a deep breath before stepping out, trying to plaster an enthusiastic smile on his face. He had to be fine. For them. He’d already spent too many months moping at home for no reason, his head feeling like dark fog was swirling around in it. Estelle had been far too gentle and patient with him when he didn’t deserve it. She deserved a husband who could actually show up and take care of her, but the alcohol was the only thing that could get him functioning and out of bed. She didn’t like it, but if that was what it took to show up for them, he didn’t care.
“Who’s ready to see a magic show?” he called out as he strode back to the living room.
“Me! ME! ME! ME!” Cecilia cried out as she jumped around the table in excitement. There was still chocolate around her mouth. Henry ruffled her hair and grabbed his pancake with his hands, not bothering with the maple syrup or utensils. This earned him an exasperated look from Estelle, but he just grinned back. He could feel the loopy exuberance the alcohol gave him starting to set in. Good. He needed it.
He forced down the last of his pancake and dumped the plate in the sink. It settled uneasily in his stomach, but that was pretty much the same as everything he ate lately. He used to love food. He couldn’t seem to anymore.
Henry walked out to the car and yanked on the car door, but it didn’t open. He frowned. He yanked on it again, harder, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“Are you forgetting something?” Estelle said from behind him. He whipped around. She was holding his car keys.
“Oh— uh, yeah,” he stammered, face flushing. Thankfully, he was saved from any extra questioning by Cece bouncing into the garage.
“Magic show! Magic show! Can we go yet?”
Henry chuckled. “We’re goin’, sunshine. But first—” he pulled out a deck of poker cards “—Daddy’s got his own trick for you.” He crouched down to Cece’s level and fanned the cards out. “Now, take one card, and don’t tell me which.”
Cece screwed her eyes tightly shut and grabbed one card. She opened one eye to peep at it, her face lighting up. “Mommy, I got—”
“Nope! No telling!” Henry gently pushed the card towards Cece. “Keep this in your pocket. After the show, Daddy will guess your card. If I get it right, we’ll get ice cream.”
Cece cheered as he finally opened the car door and everyone loaded in. Despite his instructions to keep the card in her pocket, she was clutching the card, staring at it and smiling with a look of childlike wonder on her face.
“Don’t bend my cards, Cece,” Henry admonished as he looked at her through the rearview mirror. He couldn’t help but smile though. So much so that he kept his eyes on her instead of the road and—
The car swerved, narrowly missing another car in front of them.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” Henry yelled. Estelle shot him a look, gesturing to Cece. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“You’re driving like a madman,” Estelle murmured. “Pay attention. Be careful.”
He was trying. He really was. And he thought it was going pretty well, actually. But for just a moment, he blinked. And then he heard Estelle’s scream and opened his eyes just in time to see them crash into a massive van.
Time started moving in slow motion. He could distantly hear screaming and crying and feel a sharp pain lance through his body. He could see his hands reaching towards his daughter. He could see flames start to engulf the car as he struggled to get out. He could hear himself scream for his wife and daughter as someone held him back from the burning car. He was vaguely aware of clutching his wife’s charred, broken body. He was dimly conscious of holding Cece’s hand, still clutching her card, before it went limp.
It was the Queen of Hearts.
Everything after that was a blur of hospitals, police stations, and funeral parlors. Through the haze of pain and grief, Henry only knew one thing for certain: his family was never coming back, and it was all his fault.
The years after that didn’t get any clearer. His body still ached almost constantly, long after the wounds and bruises had healed from the accident. If he’d had a drinking problem before, it only increased tenfold. Before the year was over, he was fired from his job as a saxophonist for showing up inebriated a few too many times. He’d given up and just started gambling at the casino he used to perform in, reliant on the high that winning gave him to drown out the overwhelming grief, even if only for a second. Eventually, he sold his house, their house, and stayed in a rundown apartment building instead. It hurt less than going home to an empty bed and walking past his daughter’s abandoned room. Plus, it gave him more money he could use to gamble.
He thought every day about death. He deserved to be the one dead instead of his wife and daughter. Funny how things worked. But every time he raised a gun to his head, he thought about how he might have to face them. How he might have to explain everything he’d done in his sorry life once he saw them in the afterlife. But every day, all he wanted to do was to die.
So when the doctor told him years later that his drinking was causing his heart and liver to fail, he only laughed. His heart had already died years ago. What would one more time do?
That night after the doctor had given him the news, he grabbed one last bottle and retreated to the rooftop of his dilapidated apartment building. At midnight, he quietly stepped off the ledge, the tattered card that was all he had left of his daughter tucked into his pocket.
Henry had died years ago with his daughter. He was already a Husk before his body hit the ground.