“This has all been one big misunderstanding!””Haha! Haha!”

“Hmpf, a misunderstanding eh?” He flipped through the channels, looking for anything and nothing. It was another fun filled evening of bland microwaved food and beer in front of the television. It seemed like this was all he did after work these days.

Misunderstandings. Was it a misunderstanding when he found his wife in bed with another man? Was it a misunderstanding that took his kids, his house, even his fuckin’ hair? The only misunderstanding, apparently, happened the first time he laid eyes on and spoke to Missy 20 years ago. She clearly mistook his flirting and affection for weakness. And he took her responses to mean they’d be together forever. Mistook his marriage proposal as a farce and he mistook her baring his children as a painful but beautiful sacrifice for their future.

Maybe she misunderstood that to have a house, cars, clothes and food, that one would have to work. That this was an industrial town they grew up and stayed in. That long hours and late nights are a staple of the American dream. He never misunderstood the work and time that went into being a stay-at-home parent. He never took her for granted and yet here he was, alone in a one bedroom apartment while she tucks into their bed at their home that she got to keep. A misunderstanding of course.

These thoughts are not new to him, in fact he replays them almost nightly. Night after night, beer after beer, he stews in his misfortune. Tonight, however, he fixates on that one word. Misunderstanding. Did he believe in misunderstandings? Did they really exist or were they just an excuse for true desire?

If he followed any and every action with “it was just a misunderstanding”, could he do whatever he wanted? Missy sure had done whatever and whoever she wanted. He stood up, draining his drink, unsure how many that made tonight. All he needed was his coat and with a pit stop to the back of his closet, he was out the door. He wandered the streets, mind whirling with alcohol and anger. He spots a woman walking in his direct. As she gets closer, he stumbles and reaches out to grab her for balance. His hand lands squarely on her breast, he squeezes. “Hey! What the fuck!” She exclaims, pushing against him, disgust painted across her face. “I’m sorry, it’s just a misunderstanding!” He grins, laughs and keeps on walking. “See” he thinks, “I can do anything.”

He pulls the bottle of whiskey he swiped from the kitchen, out of his inside coat pocket and takes a few swigs. The liquid burns his throat, his chest. Drinking and walking, he contemplates his goals for the evening. “Contemplate?””I’m too sober if I’m thinking words like contemplate!” He ducks into an alley and drains half of the bottle. Intoxication hits him like a wall, he’s light, he’s air, he’s water and in he back of his mind that word pulses…misunderstanding.

After walking and walking, he finally arrives at his final destination. He stands and sways while looking up at his home. Moving to the porch, he kicks the welcome mat to the side to grab the spare key he knew would be there. “I can’t believe she still leaves this shit here” he says out loud. He enters the home as quietly as he can and makes his way to the second floor. Walking down the hallway, he revels in now unchanged the house is. Wallpaper, rugs, decor the same. The only absence is him, his face in photos. He stops in front of the master bedroom and gulps down the remaining whiskey.

The room is dark and silent, Missy was always a quiet sleeper. To his relief, she seems to be alone. The last time he was in this bedroom, that hadn’t been the case. His mind is spinning as he approaches the bed. He pulls the contents of the back of his closet out of his front coat pocket opposite the whiskey bottle and points it at his sleeping wife. Not wife, ex wife. Not ex wife, Missy. Not Missy, nothing. His finger curls and pulls once, twice, a third time for good measure.

The room returns to silence, and as he turns the barrel to face himself, he smiles. “This has all been one big misunderstanding”. He pulls.