A Note about this story: This story is about the downfall of a businessman as an indirect result of his addiction to alcohol. It is written in response to the current obsession with alcohol consumption in popular music (among other things). This story is in the Christian fiction genre.
A Downward Plunge
By Hasan Abdulla
William Kildare hammered at the wooden door of Alain Durand’s one bedroom flat with a clenched fist. The deafening sounds startled Alain while he drank a glass of red wine so that it slipped from his hand and stained the floral green carpet of his flat. Alain lived within a two-floor apartment building that overlooked the coast at Marseilles on the south coast of France.
“Hello, can you hear me?” William asked with a voice that reverberated all over the apartment corridors. It was a chilly Monday in the spring of 2010. Alain opened the door slowly to see the bushy haired six-foot high William tower over his short slim frame.
“William, what’s wrong? Why all that banging?” Alain said. “I thought you were going to be too busy with your car to come and see me.”
“I was busy with the car. But I finished the work of having the repairs done sooner than I thought.”
“I see. So, tell me, what can I do for you?”
“Is Anna here?” William asked. He studied Alain’s hazel brown eyes.
“She was here an hour ago. She is not here now.”
“How was she when she left your flat?” William looked longingly at the walls decorated with miniature palm trees against a light blue background, as though Anna would emerge at any moment.
“Anna was expressing her concerns. As usual, she_”
“As usual? What does that mean?”
“I mean she visited me three to four times. Every time she came it was about your alcoholism. I tried to reassure her that the problem was in the past. She was not convinced.”
“The alcoholism is in the past,” said William, and his hand unconsciously touched the glass of red wine on Alain’s coffee table.
“Can I offer you something else?”
“You mean a drink?”
“I mean, something like a coffee. That is wine you are touching.”
“Actually,” said William, “I just remembered something she said about going to the airport. I better go.”
“Would you like some water? You seem troubled. Even your voice sounds shaky.”
“I am fine. I am fine. I really should go. Sorry.”
#
William rushed down the stairs and to his Ford Sierra. Then he drove to the Marseille Metropole airport. The distance of twenty-seven kilometres from the coast felt twice as long, even though he drove at over seventy miles an hour. He felt determined to stop his dearest Anna from leaving. He needed her. Beyond her smooth milky-white face, her chestnut brown eyes and silky shoulder length hair, he cherished her warm embraces.
He was determined not to let her go. He loved her from the day he met her at a café near the Champs-Elysées in Paris. She was a daughter of a business tycoon, Jean Delors. On the summer day in 2010 when he first met her, he offered her a mint-choc ice-cream, because she looked so beautiful. She chuckled with delight at being told how glamorous she looked and then she kissed him. He fell in love with her at that moment. They got together and built a successful business selling spare parts for cars and bicycles. He could not imagine life without her.
But he never revealed his taste for drinking beer, and a week before their marriage was due, she discovered his secret and began to criticise him, until they quarrelled bitterly and she ran to his friend Alain’s flat.
#
The closer he came to the large, glass panelled front of the Provence Airport, the louder became the roars of the airplanes. He increased his speed as though the next plane leaving the international airport was taking Anna away. He finally reached the airport. His hands were sweaty, and his face was hot.
He hurried up the escalators to the large departure area, where a long row of notice boards seemed to hang in the air as they displayed arrivals and departures on their bright blue LCD screens.
Below one of the notice boards he saw her approaching the passport checkpoint desk. He ran up to her with all his strength and caught her by the arm.
“Anna, where are you going?”
“To Boston,” she replied. Anna attempted to shake her arm free. “Goodbye!”
“Why, why are you leaving me?” he asked. His mouth drooped to one side.
“William, please let me go.” Anna tugged her arm violently away but to no avail.
“Please stay with me.” His hand continued to grip her tightly. He stuck his head forward to kiss her.
“Don’t,” she said as loudly as she could, and drew her head back. She tugged her arm away from him. “Please let me go.”
“But we were going to get married. You said you would marry me.”
Anna drew in her breath, then breathed out slowly. “That was years ago. Things have changed.”
“Why? Why the change?”
The other travellers all stopped and looked at William and Anna. An airport guard, who moved restlessly on his feet as he watched the two quarrelling, approached William.
“I say, mister.” The guard touched William on his shoulder. “Please allow this lady to take her flight.”
“Mind your own business,” said William with emphasis, and he turned to stare at the guard. His hold on Anna’s arm loosened. Anna broke free and hurried past the checkpoint showing her passport to the airport clerk. William lunged forward at the guard to push him away, but the airport guard caught him by the collar and pushed and pulled William as hard as possible.
“Don’t argue with me, mister.” The guard used all his strength to stop William from moving even an inch.
“I said, mind your own business.” William raised his voice.
“Was that lady your wife? Or just your friend?” He tightened his hold on William’s collar.
“She is not my wife but_” William turned to see where Anna could be, but she already went past the passport desk and was out of his view.
#
He glared with fiery eyes at the guard. The airport guard released his hold with a push, so that William stumbled. Then he slowly went out of the airport. His face reddened as he walked back to his car.
In his car, he dropped his head forward onto the steering wheel in an agony of sobbing tears. The sound of a tourist coach distracted his attention, and he stopped crying. The thought occurred that he would talk to Alain. Alain would understand his grief. Alain Durand was employed as his accountant, and they became close friends quickly. His friend was a dependable mediator every time he quarrelled with Anna. He also ensured that William’s small company remained profitable. But would Alain understand what happened at the airport? Did Alain know that Anna was flying off to Boston in the United States?
The loud and piercing noise of a taxi’s horn startled him. “Yes, I am going,” he said as loudly as he could. Then he drove away to his chalet, which was five kilometres away from the city centre of Marseille in the foothills of the French Riviera.
#
On returning to his chalet by the evening of a Monday in late autumn 2010, he opened the front door so slowly that it creaked and groaned as he entered. He heard Antionette the housemaid doing her work but wished that she were at her own home. A hefty blonde with a round face and chubby cheeks,
he heard her singing while completing the work in the kitchen.
“Oh no,” he said under his breath as she emerged from the kitchen.
“Hello sir, you are early today.” She smiled broadly, with eyes wide in surprise.
“Really? I thought you were late.”
“Ha, ha. You are teasing me, as always.”
“No, I am not,” he said with such ferocity that she stepped back.
“Wait, let me see my watch.” She raised her large hand to her face. “It is now seven in the evening.”
“Then why are you standing here?”
“It is Monday today sir. Have you forgotten? It is my payday.”
“Oh yes.” He said with exasperation as though he paid her money all his life. Then he rushed to a cash box that was placed over a bookshelf and took out her wages. The lid of the cash box made a loud clanging noise when he shut it. Then he rushed back to her and slammed the money on the palm of her hand with his clenched fist.
Antoinette took the money with a trembling hand and almost dropped the banknotes onto the floor. She swooped down and stuffed the banknotes into her purse with trembling hands and then ran out of his chalet. After she was gone, he slammed the door with a deafening bang.
#
A month later in September, Marseille was host to a motor car championship held at the Orange Velodrome, a gigantic sports stadium. William and Alain took time off from work to watch the event live at the stadium.
William returned home feeling tired but refreshed by the evening. Despite protests from Alain, he brought home a pack of six bottles of strong beer and placed them on a coffee table in his living room. He vowed to Alain as he would often do with Anna that he would drink in moderation.
He noticed letters on the coffee-coloured carpet next to his front door. He stood still for a long minute. But rather than pick the letters up immediately he went to his kitchen, picked up the pack of beer bottles, and returned to his living room.
He scooped up the letters and made himself comfortable on his large black leather sofa. One of the letters was postmarked with a United States Mail stamp. There was no mention of the sender on the envelope. His heart began to pound against the chest. Could the sender be Anna?
William opened the letter hurriedly. The sender was Anna. The letter began:
“Dear William,
I meant to let you know earlier, but you were so angry at my leaving Marseilles, I was unable to tell you this. Upon advice from Alain, I am now here in Boston, USA and will be working here. I do not think I will ever return to Marseille.”
A cold sweat developed on his forehead, as he continued reading,
“I know you will be disappointed, but I met a man here in Boston who is in love with me, and I love him.”
He stopped reading the letter. His head began to swim. He threw his head back in an agony of tears and anger.
#
His eyes opened after a prolonged ten minutes, and he noticed the salty taste of tears in his mouth. He reached for one of the bottles of beer on the mahogany coffee table. The letter lay loosely on his knees. He began to sip the beer. It tasted like underripe grapes. But the drink was cool and fresh and quenched his thirst. Then he drank more of the beer until one bottle and then two were empty. He continued drinking until all the bottles were empty. He clumsily pushed aside the coffee table and stood up. The letter dropped quietly onto the carpet. He began to laugh and sing a nursery rhyme, “My bonnie lies over the ocean.” Every now and then he hiccupped, then sang the same sentence from the same nursery rhyme. In this way, he staggered all the way to the bedroom and flung himself on the single bed over the floral-patterned duvet. He shut his eyes and fell asleep.
#
William bolted like a dart out of bed early next morning to the sound of the doorbell ringing angrily. He rushed to the door and saw Alain waiting outside impatiently.
“William,” said Alain, “Come on. There is work to do at the spare parts business. The staff are all waiting.”
“What? Oh no.” William replied. He rubbed his eyes. “What was that? The work, did you say? Tough. I will have to be late.”
“Why not come with me? We can go in my car.”
“I am not ready.”
“You look ready. You are all dressed up.”
“I said, I am not ready. I have had a bad night.”
“Have it your way,” said Alain. He got into his car and drove off saying aloud, “See you later perhaps.”
#
The noise of Alain’s car was followed by a long silence. William realised he was still in his day clothes, but he felt weak. His eyes began to blink. On the floor he saw the crumpled letter and began to brood over its contents. So, Alain persuaded Anna to leave for Boston. So, Alain encouraged her to leave him. And now she loves another man. The thoughts kept circling in his mind. He began to hate Alain, and he began to hate Anna.
He began to feel drowsy, and decided he needed more beer to keep him awake. On returning to his kitchen, he discovered two bottles of cider that were in his cupboard but could not remember when he bought the cider. He snatched the bottles as though they would run away. Without trying to remember when he bought the cider, he drank the contents. The taste was sour on his tongue, but he started to become alert, and strength returned to his muscles.
He was overdue for work in managing the spare parts business, but the work could wait. He went out onto the narrow, cobbled streets and headed to the city centre. Within minutes of reaching the city centre, he remembered that Anna visited Alain up to four times. She must have loved Alain more than she ever loved him. “I hate Alain,” he said aloud, “I hate Alain,” he said again repeatedly and increasingly louder so that the pedestrians around him hurried past, to avoid the screams and his furious gaze.
#
His eyes followed the footsteps of the crowds who all hurried past him. His eyes followed the cars and lorries that drove noisily past him, faster than he was always accustomed to.
The sun’s rays began to fade, and the evening was setting in. He teased his face with his fingers and noticed there was a stubble from the lack of shaving. His repetitive shouts, “I hate him, I hate Alain,” led to an ache in his throat. Looking around at the large wide promenade he noticed he reached the city’s old harbour. The strong salty breezes from the sea led to a hunger in his stomach. His big eyes looked around. A café stood opposite the sea front, and he drifted into it with a limp in his steps.
The wall clock in the café showed it was seven in the evening. The customers ignored his entry and continued to eat their baguettes and drink coffee when he entered.
A bartender with muscles that bulged against the sleeves of his white shirt stood near a small circular table and served a young couple with drinks of filtered coffee. He eyed William with suspicion.
When the bartender returned to the drinks bar, William recognised Alain who was seated opposite a young lady.
“Alain.” William said in a threatening voice.
Alain stood up. “William, how good to see you.”
“Hello Alain. How was work?”
Alain drew his head back, astonished at Williams appearance. After a pause he said, “The work went slowly but all the journal entries were completed. But why do you look at me like that?”
“Who is your friend?” asked William with a tone of anger in his voice.
“Is he the friend you talk so much about?” The young lady asked Alain.
#
A cold shock struck William like an avalanche. The same tone of voice as Anna. The young woman’s hair was shoulder length and silky, just like Anna’s. It must be Anna. It could not be anyone else.
“How can you do this?” William’s voice thundered across the café. “Why are you here with Anna?”
“She is not_”
“Don’t lie to me,” said William, breathing heavily. He hit Alain’s forehead with all the strength left in his fist. The young woman screamed in terror. The other customers stared at William in horror and were silent. The bartender lunged forward to get between William and Alain but was pushed aside. Alain tried to catch hold of William’s collar to return a punch in the face, but William hit him repeatedly on the head until there was the sound of a crunch. Alain reeled and wobbled and fell to the floor. The bartender took the opportunity of a short pause to catch hold of William by the back of the neck and was accompanied by two other customers who caught William by the arms. William was pinned to the floor while another customer called the police with his smartphone.
#
By the time the police and ambulance arrived, William was dragged onto a chair and held there. The young woman began to tell the police what happened in the French language in a sorrowful voice. Her voice was like Anna’s, but her eyes were different, a chestnut brown. When William realized this, he stared with big eyes at her and began to breathe rapidly. Then he sobbed and whimpered as the police led him away to a waiting police car.
The paramedic checked for Alain’s heartbeat. There was no heartbeat. Alain’s body lay cold, white, and lifeless amid a small pool of blood. The young woman with whom Alain was in love with mourned his death with sobbing cries and a flow of tears streaming down her face.
©hasanabdulla2025
#Marseilles, #stadium, #paramedic, #airport, #alcohol, #police, #France, #businessman
