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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Drama
- Published: 06/07/2024
Clocking Out
Born 1940, M, from Portsmouth, United KingdomCLOCKING OUT
The sound of Boisterous March winds only added to Jim’s depression. He was sat at the kitchen table staring at the little brown bottle of capsules before him. He forced his eyes away from it to glance up at the kitchen clock. 1:55 pm. It would be three and a half hours before Helen, his recently wedded second wife, was due to arrive home from work.
Avril, his seventeen-year-old daughter, usually arrived home just before Helen, However, Jim had plenty of time, he told himself.
He recalled the last evening George and Miriam, their neighbours, came over for drinks. He couldn’t remember how or why the subject of suicide arose in their conversation that night, but he recalled George saying that three hours was the minimum time needed, if one wanted to be sure.
So many people get it wrong, he said, or they just don’t take enough. Then the hospital just pumps their stomach, and they come around feeling even worse.
George was a staff nurse at the hospital so he should know, thought Jim. He has probably had to deal with attempted suicides himself, Jim mused.
Emptying the bottle on the table, Jim counted the capsules, twenty-five. More than enough and more than three hours before anyone finds me according to George.
Time enough to write a note, but did he have time to think about what he wanted to say? To explain his reasons, or find words to tell Helen that their few short months together had brought him the happiness he’d forgotten could exist.
When Becky, his first wife, died, the bottom dropped out of his world. He thought about ending it all then, but the thought of leaving Avril, their daughter—well it just wasn’t right, he couldn’t do that to her. Then Helen came along and suddenly life was worth living again, that is until the letter arrived.
He stared at it, the crumpled A4 letter with the hospital logo lay next to the bottle; he smoothed it out and read it again. No, there was no mistake. Heartless, he said to himself. How could a hospital send anyone such a cold heartless letter? Not that he wasn’t expecting the result. After the terrible way he’d been feeling for the last couple of weeks, tired, listless. All the signs were there.
He got up and fetched a pen and notepad from the lounge. He then filled a glass with water and sat back down at the kitchen table. Swallowing the first capsule, he started to write…
Dear Helen, it’s 2 pm and by the time you get home, my problems will be over. Try to understand my decision to end…,
Jim slowly popped the capsules in his mouth and swilled them down while he wrote of his love for Helen. He wrote how sorry he was, that their time together had been just a few short months. He told her how grateful he was that she’d helped him through the pain of losing his first wife and that he hoped she’d forgive him.
He paused and thought how unkind Avril, his daughter, had been to Helen, how Avril had accused Helen of all kinds of terrible things. A gold digger she had called her. Said she was only after his money. He smiled; it was only to be expected, another woman stepping into her mother’s shoes. He commenced writing again, addressing his next words to Avril.
Avril, I want you to be strong and to be kind to Helen, even though the pain of losing your mother still hurts. I know that, for a while, you’ll hate me for what I’ve done, but this illness would soon render me helpless and I can’t bear the thought of becoming a burden to you both…
He wrote until thinking became difficult, and his writing became blurred. Eventually, Jim dropped the pen and slumped forward…
“Dad…Dad,” the words echoed around in Jim’s head until his eyes opened.
“Avril! What, where…?”
“You’re in hospital Dad. You’ve been here nearly a week, but you’re okay now.” Jim slowly recalled being sat at home writing.
“Avril, where is Helen?”
“Locked away, and not before time. I did warn you about her. Didn’t I say she was evil? She was after your money and the house?”
“No! That’s not true. She wouldn’t…”
“She wrote that letter, Dad! There was nothing wrong with you.”
“But that’s not possible. I was very ill and so tired all the time.”
“They were feeding you pills, Dad, her and that George, next door, they were having an affair. They’ve been planning this for ages. I did warn you.”
“But the letter! It was official hospital headed paper?”
“Oh come on Dad, think! Hospital! George, what could be easier? He even got you the pills, didn’t he? How hard do you think it was to get the headed paper?”
Tears flooded Jim’s eyes. He squeezed his daughter’s hand.
“I’ve been blind Avril; I’ve been such a fool.”
“No, Dad, you’ve just been in love! Don’t they say love is blind?”
“Yes, and I guess I should be thankful that George wasn’t as knowledgeable about drugs as he led me to believe. He said after three hours it’s usually too late to resuscitate.”
“Oh, he may have been right about that, Dad, but you forgot the date. It’s March. Your note said that it was 1:55 pm. It was 2:55. The Witch hadn’t remembered to put the kitchen clock forward. Another hour and you might have been joining Mum.”
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