Free Mendacious by Beth Ashworth Page A

rapidly over the years.
    It’s been hard on the family, but I couldn’t even imagine the struggle my Goopie is living through. She’s slowly forgetting her life and we can’t do anything to stop it.
    “Alexander, where’s Libby?” she presses me again.
    Her eyes are drawn back to the cabinet next to the door and the photo that sits there of me and Libby on our wedding day. It’s the only one I haven’t been able to get rid of since my divorce. She won’t let me take it. There aren’t many things that she still remembers, but my wedding day is definitely one of them. I might even go as far as saying it’s the one memory of me that she has left, so naturally I feel like a failure.
    Fuck the company I’ve grown with my bare hands over the years, because my grandmother doesn’t even know it exists, or that it pays for her nursing home fees every month. It doesn’t matter. In her eyes, I’m still happily married to Libby. We don’t have any problems and my wife loves me as much as the day we were married. But I suppose in the bigger picture, even that’s debateable now.
    “I want to see Libby. Why didn’t you bring her to see me today? Is she feeling poorly? You’d better make sure you’re looking after her. If she’s going to be carrying my great-grandchild, then you keep her happy.” She’s wittering away to herself as she reaches for the television remote. “What time is it?”
    “Almost six,” I say again quietly.
    “Oooh,” she smiles. “Jasper will be here to watch Home & Away with me in a minute.”
    And that’s my cue to leave.
    We’re starting our earlier conversation again, and I can’t put on a brave face when it’s fucking killing me inside. This woman has been my life for thirty years, and I can’t sit here and watch her decline like this.
    “Goopie,” I croak. “I’m gonna head off, okay?” Getting up from the chair, I lean over and plant a kiss against her cheek. “Love you. I’ll see you soon.”
    “Bye, darling,” she calls as I step into the hall and close the door behind me.
    “Shit.” I sigh and lean against the wall.
    “Is everything alright?”
    I look at the older nurse hovering nearby. “I’m fine. It’s just becoming a struggle each time I come and see her,” I confess.
    “It’s only going to get harder I’m afraid. She’s deteriorating rapidly, so she needs the support right now.” The nurse comes forward and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll pop in and see how she’s doing. The evenings have been quite difficult on her since Mr. Duncan passed away last month.”
    She puts her hand on the door to my grandmother’s room, but I stop her quickly. “What did you say?”
    The nurse notices the obvious surprise on my face. “You didn’t know? I’m very sorry, but Mr. Duncan passed away in his sleep about a month ago.”
    I’m in complete shock. She nods and dismisses herself, leaving me alone to digest the news. I feel like shit for not being here for my grandmother, and I know I have to make changes.
    My priorities are all wrong.
    ~
    Sitting in my living room a few hours later with half a bottle of whiskey, I realise what a complete and utter waster I’ve become. Drowning my sorrows with alcohol isn’t the answer, but it’s pretty fucking satisfying. The fiery liquid is enough for me to block how pathetic my life feels at the minute.
    No girlfriend.
    No wife.
    One failed marriage.
    The whiskey tumbler comes back to my lips, and without hesitating, I drain its contents. It burns the back of my throat, scorching a welcome blaze straight to the pit of my stomach.
    I’ve been here before.
    This loathing self-pity that I won’t be rid of until I’ve sought out and achieved my revenge.
    My fist slams against the coffee table. I can’t stop my mind from tormenting me with images of Libby. Each time I close my fucking eyes she’s there. Those pretty irises, her sparkling smile, and her pouty lips; they’ve never left the confines of my head.