Wednesday, October 7, 2015

74. Help By Not Helping
Phil snorted. “I’d like to go home, but she won’t let me in.  She says I can’t come back until I finish the program here. I’m sleeping on my brother’s couch.  Me and that shaggy mutt of his. People think my wife’s such a saint.  Would a saint ignore her wedding vows?  For better or worse, in sickness and in health.  Well I’m sick and she’s not helping me. I should be home and she should be looking after me.”
I stifled a laugh.  Carolyn and Phil’s family had agreed he should stay with his youngest brother knowing Phil hated the dog.  They didn’t want Phil to be homeless, but they also didn’t want him to be too comfortable with his relapse.
“Sometimes we help people by not doing things for them. If she was taking care of you, you’d have less incentive to complete treatment.  Besides, you’re a grown man.  Isn’t it time you looked after yourself, maybe accepted the consequences of your actions?”
“Of course you’d side with her,” he said, walking away.

Today I will accept some people help me by doing nothing for me.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

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