After a worrying phone call about 6:30 from a very sober Walter, John and I decided to take some soup to Henry, we found this mountain of man hanging over a full to the brim sink, his blue eyes barely open. I navigated him over to his chair and knowing he couldn't engage, made some tea and tidied up the mess in the kitchen. Walter just sat shaking his head.
As I busied myself with plates and dishcloths John kept an eye on the swaying Henry, meanwhile a very fed up Walter cursed as he hoovered up the cats mess.
Where was my ebullient charming man, the joker whose banter makes up for the slave wages and where was the nice man? He was drowning in vodka.

I showed him the soup saying "You might want to have it tomorrow".
But he didn't recognize either me or the offering. So I made yet more tea and re-filled the cat's bowls.
Walter, who looked extremely tired, gazed at the soundless telly saying that Henry had been like this all week and that he'd had a miserable time on Boxing Day. And as me, John and Walt picked up the mess, Henry went further and further away.
Then Walt noticed that his cigarettes were missing so John offered to take Walt to the shop. They left me with Henry.
I sprinted around the kitchen, which looked as if I hadn't been there for a month yet alone a week, and got it looking reasonably clean and tidy.

"Going to bed" Henry said stumbling off the stool and crashing into the glass door.
I grabbed his arm and delivered him to the bottom of the stairs where he tentatively took his first step. Then another and then another...
I watched as he went into his room, heard him fall onto his bed and then nothing. So up I went. If this is what enjoying a drink does then you can keep it. The 18 stone businessman sat on the edge of his bed his head low, his chin digging into his chest.
He mumbled indecipherable nonsense about visions and his uncle. I didn't know what to do, so I just watched him. Fearing he might fall off the bed and knock himself on the table I removed the stuff from his bedside table and loaded it with a pillow. Then I went downstairs.

After talking to the cats I took up a cup of tea, he swallowed it quickly saying he loved me. I came downstairs to John and Walt and a coke.

We sat in the warm dark front room listening to Henry wailing and all we could do was wonder. Wonder what his tomorrows would bring.

Walter thanked us for coming around and then we left.

I don't feel angry about being let down again, in fact I don't feel anything really.
It's Henry who feels it all.