MP Prompt 36.08 - Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair
The flickering light from the telly was splintered and refracted through the bottle sitting by his elbow as he sipped single malt and fingered the bandage across the palm of his hand, wondering just how he’d come to this point in his life.
”Damn!” Sean cursed as the window glass slipped from his hands and shattered on the flagstones. An hour’s shopping excursion wasted by a moment’s clumsiness. He muttered under his breath as he bent to pick up the larger pieces, still fuming over the phone call from Abby, telling him he couldn’t have Evie this weekend. He’d wanted to spend time with his girls before he left to start filming on Sharpe, only to be told that Lorna had a trip with school chums, Molly was off to tour castles in Ireland or some such and Abby had already planned a holiday with her new man, his children and Evie.
It seemed he had so little time with them these days and what time he did get was never enough. Not enough to talk over what they were about, to give advice, to frown about the lads they were seeing or just love his daughters. He’d been busy when they were growing and now Lorna was off to University and Molly following close on her heels. His little Button was growing far too fast and Abby seemed determined to schedule the lamb out of any time with her Da.
The whole sorry taffle had him wound tighter than a spring and ready to snap, some days it was all he could do not to go barking mad. Picking up another large shard to drop in the dust bin, he growled in frustration and drew the sharp edge across his palm, then stared in disbelief at the blood welling in the wound and sliding over the abused skin to drip onto the ground.
Fingers stroking the bandage he’d placed on the cut, Sean filled his glass again and wondered what had possessed him to cut himself. He supposed the smart thing to do was to talk to someone, but he’d never really gone for the therapy idea. It seemed to him a real man should just take hold of his boot laces and pull himself up; at this point he wasn’t sure which way up had gone. Reaching for the telephone he called an old mate in the States and asked if he knew someone he could see in Boston. He was filming there for at least the next three months and while the schedule would be brutal, he’d have to work in some time before he shattered completely.
”Damn!” Sean cursed as the window glass slipped from his hands and shattered on the flagstones. An hour’s shopping excursion wasted by a moment’s clumsiness. He muttered under his breath as he bent to pick up the larger pieces, still fuming over the phone call from Abby, telling him he couldn’t have Evie this weekend. He’d wanted to spend time with his girls before he left to start filming on Sharpe, only to be told that Lorna had a trip with school chums, Molly was off to tour castles in Ireland or some such and Abby had already planned a holiday with her new man, his children and Evie.
It seemed he had so little time with them these days and what time he did get was never enough. Not enough to talk over what they were about, to give advice, to frown about the lads they were seeing or just love his daughters. He’d been busy when they were growing and now Lorna was off to University and Molly following close on her heels. His little Button was growing far too fast and Abby seemed determined to schedule the lamb out of any time with her Da.
The whole sorry taffle had him wound tighter than a spring and ready to snap, some days it was all he could do not to go barking mad. Picking up another large shard to drop in the dust bin, he growled in frustration and drew the sharp edge across his palm, then stared in disbelief at the blood welling in the wound and sliding over the abused skin to drip onto the ground.
Fingers stroking the bandage he’d placed on the cut, Sean filled his glass again and wondered what had possessed him to cut himself. He supposed the smart thing to do was to talk to someone, but he’d never really gone for the therapy idea. It seemed to him a real man should just take hold of his boot laces and pull himself up; at this point he wasn’t sure which way up had gone. Reaching for the telephone he called an old mate in the States and asked if he knew someone he could see in Boston. He was filming there for at least the next three months and while the schedule would be brutal, he’d have to work in some time before he shattered completely.