The man that wasn't

He lived a drunk. He died a drunk. The end? No — the story of a life is never that simple.

Painting
(Image credit: (Christie's Images/Corbis))

When I was six years old my best friend's father killed himself. I remember overhearing my mother on the phone — things I wasn't supposed to hear. Something about bloody glasses. Something about a gun. I didn't know what it all meant until my mother sat me down. Suddenly, I was terrified that my dad would kill himself, too.

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