From Russia, With Love...Part 3

It had been six months since Vladimir had seen his wife and child, and he missed them and thought about them every day. Especially her. He wondered if she thought about him even half as much as he thought about her. Every day he got up for work, went to work, came home, ate dinner, and went to sleep. Once a week he went to therapy to discuss why he was so angry and why he beat and raped his wife, and why he drank, but other than that, his life was boring…and empty.
It had been five months since he had even touched alcohol. One of the hardest things he had ever had to do, besides leaving his family, was to give it up. It was kind of like he depended on it, but he knew he had to do it. He wondered if she’d ever realize everything he was doing.
He had stolen one of her shirts the day that he had left: a red sweater with the word “Guess” written across the chest in metallic silver cursive letters. He always loved the way it looked on her. It smelled like her. She probably wondered where it had gone, but he figured it wasn’t really that big of a deal. He slept with it at night; it made him feel closer to her, and it served as a reminder that he really had to change, or he would lose her.