Let Me In (A short story)

Still grieving a woman seeks solace in wine and reminiscence... Until one night when she receives an unexpected message

She let herself into the house and dragged her shopping in numerous bags over the threshold. Stretching out for the last one she shuddered slightly at the garish Day-Glo skull pinned to her neighbour's door. Halloween, what a pain in the arse. Those little fuckers would be in for a surprise if they knocked on her door tonight. The only thing they would be taking away with them was a resounding fuck off. Just thinking that made a wry smile surface briefly on her face as she slammed the door shut.

Shopping packed away she sat at the kitchen table, checked the time. Half past four, was it still too early for wine? She had got caught in a bit of a routine since Chris died. Out of habit, as she did every time she thought of him she pulled her phone out and read his last WhatsApp message.

A stupid fight. It killed her to read that last line "I hate you". Do any of us think that when we say something in anger it will be the last thing we say to someone?

He never did come home. Sighing inwardly she got up to the fridge for that wine after all. Fuck it she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. "It's only a bit of wine.". It had been six weeks and although the pain had lessened she thought about him every hour of every day. The only thing that had changed had been the crying, now she just felt numb. Like a player in a game, detached and going through the motions.

It didn't help that she was drinking most days. In an effort not to lose what she still had she maintained a facade of civility to herself and her friends by not drinking till the evening. She still fell into her bed most nights in a deadened alcohol induced haze. That fucking message. Why couldn't she have told him she loved him and that everything was ok? Instead, she was lashing out because he had stayed out later than he meant to. It was a scab that she had picked over so often. She wished that she had the guts to remove WhatsApp.

When she looked at the little message at the top stating how long it had been since the recipient had viewed the message she felt just like she had straight after the phone call when told of his stupid, stupid death. A fight at a taxi rank. That fucking temper of his. No good against a knife.

Later, after having picked listlessly at a microwave lasagne she settled into her well-worn routine of wine after wine. She grinned a little sloppily. Wine after wine. It was like that song. Ah, she couldn't remember the name. At least when she drank she felt a little more alive. Didn't pick away at her loss, instead, sat with it like a loyal friend.

She couldn't help it, drunk she followed her ritual and picked up her phone and gazed at those last two messages. I hate you. God she hated herself, more and more every time she read those three words. She shook her head fuzzily, how many glasses had she had? It was late she knew that much.

Suddenly her world shrank to a pinprick as she stared at her phone's screen.

What the hell? Online? Her stomach lurched and she swallowed the bile that flooded her mouth. Her vision smeared and she gasped trying to suck in air and steady herself. "It must be a glitch.. must be a fault with the app?"

But there it remained Online.. in the top left of the screen. Every day for six weeks she had looked at that same screen and counted the days that it displayed since she had lost him. It was a curse and a comfort and now something was really fucked up. She ran a hand through her hair. Just a fucking glitch with the app. She shoved the phone down on the edge of her chair. God, What a fright. She let out a strained giggle I mean what was she thinking, that it was really Chris? Stupid woman. Still shaken she knocked back the wine in her glass, I need an early night.

Her doorbell rang, what the fuck, at this time? It must be nearly midnight? Her heart still pounding she got up unsteadily from the couch. "Fucking Halloween, You are gonna hear me!" She yelled as she headed to the hallway. Her phone un-noticed slipped to the floor. "You had better run you little bastards," she slurred. "There's no trick or treating here."

Her phone's screen lit up.