Broken

George grunted a bit at the small puddle beneath the pipe. Another drop beaded up at its elbow before falling into the puddle with an audible plop. His wife, Betty, glanced at it from over his shoulder.

“I think we should have a plumber look at it,” she commented.

George scoffed. “A plumber? Why? So he can scam three hundred dollars out of me to tape it? It isn’t broken, Bet. I’ll deal with it later.”

Betty sighed. Classic George. He never listened to her when she suggested calling a professional. She wondered how long it would be before he broke down and finally admitted he couldn’t fix something himself. Knowing George, probably never.

They both went back upstairs. Betty went to the kitchen to start dinner. She opened up the cupboard to grab some spices, as the door opened she heard a faint cracking sound. She peeked around the side. The cabinet was practically hanging off the wall, the drywall was cracking. She huffed.

“George, I thought you were going to fix this cabinet!” She shouted at him.

“I’ll deal with it later, Betty!” He hollered back.

“You said that two weeks ago! For the love of God, George, it’s practically falling off the wall!”

“Stop being so damn dramatic!” He cried.

He shook his head as he walked upstairs. The stairs practically groaned under his feet as he went up. He’d have to deal with them later. He didn’t understand why she always acted like the sky was falling. A couple dribbles from the pipe and some creaky cabinets and she went into hysterics about calling “professionals.” 

What did he need one of those overpriced scam artists for? His father taught him everything he needed to know about fixing a house. He’d deal with them later when he had some free time. Was it really so bad he wanted to relax for a while? 

He sighed as he laid on the bed. What kind of woman didn’t support her man? Did she think he was incompetent or something? If things were really that big of a problem he would fix them. Besides, if it were really as bad as she was saying, then the house would be falling down by now. Why did she need to be so dramatic all the time?

Betty just shook her head as the stairs creaked beneath her feet. “I’ll deal with it later.” He might as well have it tattooed across his forehead. Would later ever come? Apparently not, he was laying on the bed watching TV. She shook her head and went to their bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would make her feel better. The hot water knob rattled loosely in her hand as she went to turn it. She felt her frustration building.

Did George really not understand how all these small problems could lead to something big? If he just fixed one or two things a day, then it wouldn’t be a problem. If he would just admit things had gotten out of hand and called a professional, then it wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t though. He wanted to sit on his ass and ignore everything. 

Maybe he thought they would just disappear over time, but they wouldn’t. Betty knew. If they didn’t start fixing things, then the house was going to crumble around them one day. Knowing George he’d be standing in the rubble and still talking about how he’d “deal with it later.”

Betty gave up on the shower. With the pipes already leaking it was probably a good idea to take it easy on them. She went back to the bedroom. George was still on the bed. She glared a bit.

“Hot water tap practically came off in my hand just now,” she said angrily.

He gave a frustrated sigh. “Well, maybe if you weren’t always yanking it around it’d be fine. Ever think of that Betty?”

“Yeah, George, me turning the knob is the problem. Not the fact that I told you almost a month ago that it was loose!” She shouted.

“Is there anything in this house that works?” He asked angrily. “Because every damn word out of your mouth is a complaint about this or that being broken. If everything here is so terrible, then why don’t you move to some ritzy hotel or something?’

“Sorry, I want my home to be in a half-decent condition!” She shouted, going to the closet. “Maybe you’re right though! It’s a shithole anyway now, we might as well burn it to the ground and start over again!”

Betty pulled out her suitcase and started packing some clothes. She was sick of his lazy, selfish, ignorant behavior. If he wanted her to leave, then she would. She’d laugh in the distance while the place fell apart around him. George started to slow-clap behind her.

“Oh, bravo! Everyone, applaud drama queen Betty!” He said sarcastically.

She slammed the suitcase shut and started walking downstairs. George rolled his eyes. She’d be back in a week or two when she realized she was overreacting. Their home was perfect the way it was, even if there were a couple small issues, he could fix them no problem. He’d worry about it if it was serious enough. He heard the front door slam, then a giant crashing noise.

He jumped up and ran downstairs, even Betty ran back in to see what had happened. The cabinet had collapsed. There was a huge hole in the drywall now. Looks like the leak from downstairs had actually started a long time ago, and further up. The pipe behind the wall was dripping wet and the pieces of drywall that were still attached to the back of the cabinets were caked with mold. Shattered pieces of wood and glass were scattered everywhere. Puddles of liquids and piles of food were slowly spreading across the floors. It was a disaster.

George stared at the mess, mouth agape. Betty stood stunned. He glanced over at her. Wasn't she going to do something? He cleared his throat, but she still didn’t move. He was getting annoyed now.

“Well, this is your fault for slamming the damn door,” he grumbled angrily. “Are you going to help clean it up or what?”

The words he spoke finally broke through Betty’s daze. A smile formed slowly on her face. She walked towards the door again. He stared at her in shock.

“Hey! Where are you going? You’re just going to leave it like this?!” He asked incredulously.

She turned to him and gave him her sweetest smile. “Don’t be such a drama king. I’ll deal with it later.”

She slammed the door as she left. From somewhere upstairs, he heard a distinct clanging sound. Metal against tile. The water tap falling into the shower.