The Key

Peter struggled with the key, he had pushed it into the lock but it
had jammed.
Again.
He moved it up and down and from side to side, his index finger sore
from vainly forcing the key round. "Bastard, why me ? This is happening
too often." The sound of his shuffling feet and attempts at the key
echoed through the cold tenement stair. He was dying to pee and was
moving his knees together, he was beginning to feel pain in his kidneys
now and was struggling to remain continent . Briefly he thought maybe I
should just fuckin' pish in the stair, whae else is up ? It's fuckin'
half past two in the morning.
He heard a muffled voice "is that you Peter ?"
"Aye sorry hen, fuckin' key's stuck, ah cannae get the door open" He
knew she wasn't happy. "Sssh keep the noise down, you'll wake Thomas,
can you take the key out the lock? I've got the key in the other side,
that's why you can't open it" He withdrew the key, he was still feeling
annoyed and thought why does she do that ? Every Saturday night. Daft
wee habits are creeping in.
The door clicked open, she was wrapped in a nightgown and looked at him
with screwed up eyes . He loved the way her hair was big and ruffled at
night and that sleepy look of surprise on her face that came with the
sudden exposure to light. She smiled, "Sorry Peter, I know, I know but
I get worried that something'll happen and we can't get out, if the
house is on fire or something, imagine wee Thomas?."
"It's awright Beth, ah ken what ye mean, especially wi' they radges
next door, ah'm just waiting fur the day they burn the stair doon, mind
that last time, wi' the cooker left on and no' lit, that wizza laugh
mind -wi' the gas board boy - she's been sniffin' it aw day ? lucky
bastard- an here wiz me meanin' the smell o' gas"
"Sssh quiet, I mind that, it was funny, but come on, get to bed. Wee
Thomas'll wake up with the noise, it took ages to get him down tonight,
he missed his daddy" she smiled warmly and went back to bed.
Peter's annoyance left at the thought of wee Thomas and he went to the
toilet, stumbled out of his clothes and rolled into bed beside
her.
"'night Beth."
Within seconds he was snoring and Beth could smell whisky, beer and
cigarettes. It made her think of that song with Rod Stewart singing it
- Cigarettes and Alcohol. It was a good tune she decided but the
reality wasn't like he made it sound, exciting and full of
expectation.No this isn't exciting at all, -snoring farts and alcohol,
aye that sounded more like it, she imagined Rod Stewart singing"Snoring
farts and a-al-cohol". She curled herself up and felt safe and cosy and
thought of wee Thomas, their two year old son, she thought of him in
his wee pyjama suit and gradually she drifted back to sleep and her
dreams with this unconscious man prone beside her, sharing her bed.