Cigarette Stained Lies

As his black Chuck Taylor sneakers scuffed the dirty sidewalk, the petite man really questioned his motives. The dim streetlight flickered as he sauntered past the old baseball park that he was meant to be taking his youngest son to the next day. He’d been so wasted on alcohol and his own thoughts that he’d practically forgotten about what he actually lived for. His pace quickened as he realized he needed to go back. He chucked the half burned out cigarette on the already filthy street and began to run. He felt the cool summer breeze ruffle his sandy hair as he ran unsteadily down the road, there was no way he could live with the guilt, he had to set things straight.
She swept a dark curl away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She was just about to drag herself up the stairs, once again to lie in an empty bed when she heard the click of the front door, and the familiar cough of her husband. She turned away from him just as he had turned away from her. As she began to walk up the stairs a memorable, gentle voice called up to her, “Wait…” he whimpered, placing a soft hand upon her shoulder. She pulled away; as she began to feel the tears run down her face again. “…please.” She reluctantly turned to face him and noticed she wasn’t the only one crying. His eyes were red and brimming with tears. “I-I can’t tell you how much I love you and you will never know how sorry I am… for everything I’ve done to you.” A few moments passed in silence; a single tear began to fall down his face. His wife reached out and cupped his face in her slender hands, wiping away his tear with her soft thumbs. She leaned in close to her shaking husband and breathed “I love you too...We’re going to get through this together.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He lifted her chin and kissed her softly.
The next morning the young boy woke up, bleary eyed and tired from his restless night. An expression of sadness shot across his face as he realized his father wasn’t going to take him to the ball park that day. He threw his legs out of his bed and began to pad down the stairs feeling somewhat disappointed. He felt the cold tiled floor beneath his warm feet. As he slowly climbed down the stairs he heard the clearly recognizable, Californian-drawl of his daddy. He sprinted down the last of the few steps, missing out the last two; landing with a light thud on the oak floor. He ran down the corridor, his bare feet tapping the hard ground lightly. He burst into the sun-filled kitchen where he saw his daddy sitting at the island table drinking black coffee. Letting out a small cry of happiness; he ran to his dad, throwing his little arms around his father’s unshaven neck as he climbed onto his lap. His dad held him tightly; the small child closed his eyes and embraced the feeling of having his dad back. He looked up at his father’s soft, green eyes as a smile broke across his dad’s tired looking face.
“It’s good to be back, kid.” His dad said softly as he ruffled his son’s light brown hair.
The boy jumped off his dad’s knee and bounded out the room without another word.

She passed her son on the stairs smiling at his clear expression of joy. Her husband was back and this time they were going to make sure it was for good. She ambled into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee and took the barstool next to her slightly disheveled husband.
“So…you’re back now?” She asked in a soft yet slightly hesitant tone.
“Forever.” He whispered, smiling across at her.