The Void by Bryan Healey Read Free Book Online

too much silence...
    Please, someone speak!
    Speak!
    "Okay," Jenny finally breaths. "What now?"
    "Very simple. We remove the feeding tube."
    "Do I need to be here?"
    "No, you don't."
    "Mom!"
    "Brian..." she babbles. "I just can't, okay?"
    "But-"
    "Brian..." she repeats. "I
just
can't.
"
    A brief silence and fierce exhale, and "okay."
    Then footsteps, sobbing, gathering in intensity, and then the sound
of a door closing. And, once again, painfully, horrifyingly, silence.
    Such terrible silence.
    She left me...
    She left me here alone...
    So very alone...
    I wonder, would the doctor speak to me, likely just him and me (and
maybe a nurse or two) as they remove my ability to be fed, to stay
alive. Would he talk to me, as he signs and seals my death warrant?
    Will Jenny come back to me?
    Will I die, alone; all alone...
    "Come on, ref,
pay
attention!
" On
leather...
    "What a bullshit call!"
    Both me and my father, now on our feet, a beer clad in each of our
right hands, faces grimacing and furious at the madness before us.
    "Goddamnit," dad grumbles as he returns to his seat, his hands
slapping his knees as he sinks into the cushions and grunts.
    I, still standing, swizzle the remaining liquid in my metal can, and
let out a disgusting burp. "I'm gonna get another one. You need
one?"
    "No, I'm set."
    "Okay," and I amble off to the kitchen, all at once aware that I
am a little tipsy.
    "Hey," and I turn to see my father suddenly behind me, eyes
afire. "Are you okay?"
    "I'm fine," I grumble. "Why?"
    "That's your fifth beer today."
    "So?"
    "I think you should be done, son."
    "What? Are you serious?" I am flabbergasted. My father hasn't
spoken to me like that since I was a teenager, and I certainly never
expected to hear it from him regarding my beer consumption. This was
a man that routinely finished a case of beer in an evening on the
patio by himself, just reading.
    "I am."
    "Dad, I'm getting another beer."
    "Don't, Max!"
    "That's enough, dad, back off! I'm not a kid trying to sneak a
drink from your cabinet."
    "That's still my beer."
    I stood, motionless; he was technically correct, it was his, he
bought it. I had no rights over it. But I was stunned at the
insinuation; he was cutting me off by the only means he had. And I
was suddenly furious.
    "Then maybe I should just go."
    "I can't let you drive, Max!"
    "Dad, Jesus Christ, I've only had four!"
    "Max-"
    "No, enough!" And I turn, sprint for the door, out to the deck,
down to the driveway, and into my car. I start it up and take off
down the street, tires squealing behind me as I race.
    I am so angry I can barely see...
    But why am I so angry?
    "I can't believe he'd talk to me like that," to myself I
grumble, taking a wide corner onto the main street without using a
turn signal.
    I'm too angry for turn signals.
    "Like I'm a child," I continue.
    I swerve to the left to keep my tires on the road.
    "I'm a grown man, a veteran, if I want a beer, I'll get a
goddamn
beer
!"
    Another swerve to the right to stay out of the line of oncoming
traffic. Then back to the left. And back to the right. I seem to be
having some trouble driving straight.
    "I'd expect it from mom, but not from dad!"
    What's that noise?
    "The guy drinks himself asleep every night, and he's telling me
that I'm drinking too much! What a hypocrite! I only had a few-"
    Are those are police lights behind me?
    And then a siren echoes.
    Shit...
    I quickly, carefully put on my right blinker and pull to the side of
the road and stop the car, turning off the ignition. The police
cruiser follows suit and puts his bumper to right before my trunk.
    And then we wait.
    I gather my documents, stealing glances to the rear view mirror
every few seconds so as to know when the officer is approaching. It
seems to take an eternity, but when he finally opens his door and
comes to mine, I find myself wishing he had taken longer,
    "License and registration?"
    I hand him my documents.
    "Do you know why I pulled you over?"
    "Was I swerving a