Drip Drip Drip

Drip, Drip, Drip  

by Jen H

The drip, drip, drip of the tap in the kitchen echoed in the silence. He should have fixed it months ago, but he hadn’t. His wife had told him to do it, repeating the instruction several times, but he ignored her, as usual.


She could hear the tap dripping. She had told him a million times to fix it. God, why didn’t he just listen to her? All night she had to listen to the tap drip, drip, dripping. As usual.


He knew it annoyed her, but he wouldn’t fix it. Why should he? It’s not like he needed to do anything for her. She was capable of doing it herself. Yet she expected him to do everything for her. He didn’t think she had left her bed, save to use the toilet, once in the last week. And before that, she had spent God only knows how long holed up in her room. It wasn’t fair that he was left to do it all because of her ‘back-ache.’


For Christ’s Sake! Was it so bloody difficult to just tighten a screw? He went to work every day, he got to leave this hell-hole called home. She couldn’t. She was stuck here, hour after hour, her only company the drip, drip, drip of the tap. He got to leave. To be happy. To do something while she lay near paralysed with the pain in her back.


Was it not enough that he was forced to spend endless hours bent over a desk, doing a job he loathed, to pay for her expensive habits? Smoking, drinking. While she got to lounge at home, he was forced to bore himself half to death with the monotony of his nine-to-five job. And she expects him to come home and serve her; feed her; clean up her mess. And now mend the drip, drip, dripping tap.


How was she supposed to stay sane when he tormented her so? He knew how much pain she was in. He knew it was so intense as to render her bed ridden. Yet he did nothing to help ease her pain. He would just watch as she writhed in agony. And now he forced her to sit through the drip, drip, drip of the tap.


Why should he have to fix the tap? It’s not like it was causing her any harm. This was just typical of her. She was using the tap to show that she was in charge. By submitting to fixing it, he would be submitting to her every whim. He wouldn’t do it. He would let the tap continue to drip, drip, drip until he decided to fix it.


This was just typical of him. Was it not bad enough that she was going through all this pain? All she wanted was to stop the dripping. If she could have done it herself she would have. God, it was mortifying enough that she was stuck in this damn bed day after day, but having to rely on him was almost too much to take. Why could he not just fix the damn tap? What did he think he was achieving leaving it to drip, drip, drip all day long?


He couldn’t do it. If he fixed the tap he was giving in. And worse, giving up the one thing that wasn’t in the control of his wife; the drip, drip, drip of the tap.


Why did he have to be so heartless? So cruel? She had told him how the tap drove her crazy. Why couldn’t he fix it? God, she knew she would have to do it herself. It wasn’t a hard job but it took so much effort out of her. She would have to get down the stairs first .That was the hardest part.


He could hear the tap drip, drip, dripping and smiled.


She could hear the tap drip, drip, dripping and stood.


He heard the floor boards creaking and knew she had finally cracked. His smile widened, awaiting the confrontation they were bound to have. He knew she couldn’t just let this lie. She would come in here and shout and yell. She would tell him she hated, loathed, despised him. She would warn him, threaten him, promise him that he would never do this again. She would throw his stuff in a suitcase, bin-bag, out of the window. She would cry, scream, whisper her anger away. She would go upstairs and he would listen to the drip, drip, dripping and smile.


She took a few shaky steps. Her legs felt weak from spending so long in bed. She had reached the door. She turned the handle and could hear the television blaring, the washing machine spinning and the tap drip, drip, dripping. She walked on.


He heard her slowly moving along upstairs and his heart started racing. Why? He didn’t care to know. He could hear her approaching the stairs, he could hear her groan of pain as she started her descent. The over-dramatics of it all riled him. Why could she not just stop this act? He didn’t understand why she did this.


She’d reached the bottom of the stairs, red faced and exhausted. She walked passed the living room door, into the kitchen. She found the spanner under the sink. She strained to reach it; she would stop the damn drip, drip, dripping, even if it killed her.


He could hear the clinking of metal. Was she trying to fix it herself? God, he hoped not. It would be just another thing to throw in his face. Just another thing to add to her list. And it was a long list. She added to it every day of their twenty-five year marriage. And more these last six years with her ‘back-ache’. The drip, drip, dripping stopped. Damn.


The drip, drip, dripping stopped. Finally. She went into the living-room. She wanted to know if he was happy now. Well? Is he satisfied? God, she hated him. She loathed him. She despised him. She warned him; he would never do this again. She threatened him; he would never do this again. She promised him; he would never do this again. She cried, she screamed, she whispered. She begged, she pleaded, she demanded to know why? Why was he so cruel? So ruthless? So evil? Why?


He shook his head. He apologised. He promised her it would never happened again. He apologised. He begged her to give him a second chance. A third. A fourth. He apologised.


She told him she would never forgive him. She left. She stormed upstairs, in her anger almost not feeling the pain in her back. She lay down in agony.


He smiled. He knew she would forgive him. Eventually



They ate their supper.


They watched the television.


They lay down to sleep.


They heard the tap, tap, tapping of a bird nesting in the chimney.


He smiled.


She sighed.


They waited for the morning.

















18 Responses to “Drip Drip Drip”

  1. Hayley Scott November 18, 2011 at 2:18 pm #

    This is such an amazing piece of writing. It is so realistic and portrays the breaking down of a relationships incredibly well! This is a very insightful commentary here. I’ve shown it to some fellow English teachers here in Dundee and asked them to guess who the author was, and safe to say none of them guessed it was written by a seventeen year old! I just wanted to offer you my services as someone has done in a previous comment. If you ever need anyone to proof read or even just to ‘bounce ideas off’ then I’m happy to help!

    • Jennifer Hay November 18, 2011 at 2:38 pm #

      Wow! thank you! This really means a lot to me! I’m glad you liked Drip, Drip, Drip ! I think it’s my favourite one so far! I also really appreciate the offer! And I will definitely take you up on it! I really need someone to ‘bounce ideas off of’ as I’ve said countless times before, and I’ve had a few lovely folk on here offering! I’m fully intending to utilise you all and get a new story out soon! The more people to help mull things over the better! I really appreciate it! Would it be ok if I emailed you a couple of things I’m working on? 🙂 An outside perspective would be best, it’s just turned into nonsense words to me now!

  2. Diane November 21, 2011 at 9:26 pm #

    this is actually very dark isn’t it. I like the way that the drip drip drip highlights the niggles in the relationship. The relentlessness of it all and then the tap tap tapping at the end, the never ending torment of a loveless and hopeless marriage. Very well done

    • Jennifer Hay November 22, 2011 at 1:02 pm #

      🙂 thank you! I’m really glad you liked it!

  3. asoulwalker November 22, 2011 at 6:15 pm #

    Ha! This is wonderful.

  4. ahhhpoetry November 29, 2011 at 10:31 pm #

    I enjoyed reading your story. It reminded me of other stories I’ve read, but it’s been so long I can’t recall. 🙂 I loved the way you went back and forth between husband and wife. I remember a book that was written exactly like this….you dear girl have a penchant for writing!

    The gift of the magi comes to mind when you think of the husband doing something for the wife and the wife doing something for the husband, all positive vs the dark of your story…nothing wrong in that however. Good job!

    Also, thank you for suscribing to my blog. I’m taking a haitus right now because I need to be translating a book, but soon, I’ll be back.

    • Jennifer Hay November 29, 2011 at 10:40 pm #

      🙂 Thank you!! And you’re blog is fantastic! I can’t wait until you get back to it!

  5. willowdot21 November 29, 2011 at 10:49 pm #

    That was eerily real, there are a lot of couples like that out there. Push, push until one or the other falls then the row , then the truce until it all starts up again an amazing piece of writing.XX

    • Jennifer Hay November 29, 2011 at 10:53 pm #

      Thank you! I tried to capture what was happening around me at the time, and I’m glad you think it’s realistic! 🙂

  6. johnlmalone November 29, 2011 at 11:14 pm #

    a good piece of writing; dripping taps are very dear to me as I know how much they annoy but you’re the first person I know to have constructed a story around it. well done!

  7. manicddaily November 30, 2011 at 1:47 am #

    Ooooh! Something very Pinteresque here, or worse. I am waiting for one to kill the other (or maybe the bird) with the spanner. (Or just bare hands!) Well done. K.

    • Jennifer Hay December 4, 2011 at 2:17 am #

      Thank you! I was debating continuing it onto a scene with the bird, but thought it’d be best just to leave it as it is!

  8. manicddaily November 30, 2011 at 1:48 am #

    PS _ by worse (above than Pinteresque), I mean, more, well, grim, difficult. (Maybe what I should say is “better”.) K.

  9. dribblingpensioner December 5, 2011 at 11:04 pm #

    Thank you for subscribing to my blog, i will do the same for you , Harry

  10. lscotthoughts December 6, 2011 at 1:41 am #

    Wonderful writing and it felt so real; I was drawn into their torment, conversation and relationship! You do have a knack for writing, Jennifer! I shared your “Box Full of Kisses” story with my family over Thanksgiving and they loved it! 🙂

  11. elizabeth September 9, 2012 at 5:05 pm #

    Brilliant story; so real and menacing. Very well done. (Can’t believe I missed this earlier.)

  12. eebrinker December 16, 2012 at 11:45 pm #

    and so it goes ….

    very well written.


  1. ABC Award, Versatile Blogger Award, and 7X7 Link Award! « Jenchay - January 30, 2012

    […] Drip Drip Drip […]

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