The god ticket

My wife is going to kill herself in 5 to 7 business days. I'd found the order for a jug of Xanaphril while clearing the internet history of porn and was contemplating it now. I'd known my wife Cindy had been unhappy but I guess hadn't registered how much yet. Was this a cry for help? Should I say something or just let it fade into the background noise like all of her other passive complaints? 'Are you ever coming to bed?' Her voice bridges on a shout, causing me to start and close the browser window from habit. A shout. Her deafness is still in full swing, I think to myself. Cindy had been diagnosed with a rare form of Meniere's disease shortly after we'd married two years back. What had started as uneasy moments of vertigo and mild hearing loss in her right ear had quickly erupted into extreme ranges of deafness that would come and go randomly; sometimes affecting her for weeks at a time. Worse still were her 'falling attacks'. I'll never forget the first time she'd experienced one. We'd been waiting in line for hours outside the Aladdin theater, shivering and keeping close to ward off the first snowflakes of winter. I remember she'd been talking on her cell phone when just like that she collapsed into the street as if she'd tripped - but we hadn't been moving. It scared the Christ out of me; I thought she'd suffered an aneurism or stroke or even been shot. Understandably, these periods of outrageous vertigo and difficulty hearing the words from her own mouth were deeply frustrating for her and I'd tried my best to be supportive. But it was taking its toll. I turn to look at her sullen face. I feel guilty to admit it, but I can hardly stand seeing her when she's like this. A wise man once said that sadness is a disease. I'd go one step further and say that it's of the infectious variety. After years of putting up with her, I could go for a handful of those pills myself. 'Ya, just closing down now.' I shut our laptop and slip into bed next to her. She immediately turns on her side facing away from me. Guess no sex tonight either? Ha, and here I had my hopes up, I think bitterly. Just as well. Hadn't I read somewhere that if a man goes without long enough, he'll start having crazy kink-fest dreams? I could go for some of that. Bring on the Asian Schoolgirl...minus the tentacles. But my subconscious wasn't interested in playing house. I used to be into exploring all shades of 'mental awaking'; from failed attempts at telekinesis to lucid dreaming and what I'd liked to call 'The God Ticket' - astral projection; the ability to travel anywhere at will. It'd been years since I'd given it any thought until the depressing reality of Cindy's illness had become more and more apparent. I was never able to successfully 'leave my body' but controlling the storyline of my nightly encounters provided a welcome escape. That was, until they took a noticeably violent and uncontrollable turn. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, and when I do, my stomach clenches horribly. I'm back at University. And those eyes looking into mine... Susan's. My ex's. As is common in dreams, I know there are other people around us - that we're walking to class inside the L.R. Harrison building in fact - but I don't see anyone else. I can feel them looking at us but it's just her and those accusing eyes. And then the events flash forward. It's raining and we're standing under a tree together. I'm hugging her from behind and singing a song about what we're doing. Her arms lovingly press mine to her chest and she looks up at me again with an expression of betrayal. 'You said we'd be together forever, right? That you love me 'past the stars'.' Her words form a knot in my throat. I had said that after all; even meant it. But then Cindy had come along and oh how much better things had looked on that side of the wall. Now there was regret and the awful 'if'. I want to tell her I'm sorry - that I still love her, but I'm having trouble making coherent thought and it doesn't matter anyway because Susan's hair is practically glowing in the light of the moon. She