by jexmas on January 21, 2016

“I demand an apology,” you said, slightly off balance and leaning over me.

“What for?” I asked, aware of the smell of vodka martinis on your breath.

“For all those times you could have told me you loved me, but didn’t.”

“You’re drunk,” I said, smiling. “That bucks’ party got to you. This is not like you.”

“I know,” you said, sorrowfully. “But sometimes you just gotta do what you just gotta do.”

“Yes,” I said, patting you on the shoulder. “And now you just gotta go to bed.”

“Well, won’t you come with me?” you asked, sidling up to me and slipping your arm around my waist.

I could feel my brows furrow and I was irritated. “Rolling around in bed with a drunk husband is not my idea of fun.”

“Come on, sweetheart, tell me you love me.” You were swaying and starting to sing.

“You know I love you,” I said. “But I’ll say it in the morning and mean it if you go to bed now.”

“All right,” you said, kissing the top of my head. “All right, sweetheart. Off I go.”

You turned and staggered down the hallway to the bedroom door, turning one last time to look for me with an exaggerated yearning on your face.

“Go on,” I said. “Keep going. I’ll see you soon.”

I waited a few minutes until I heard you snoring and then I went to bed, too, sliding under the covers on my side of the bed and snuggling next to you, as always. As I drifted off to sleep, I was thinking about what we sign up for when we commit to being together for life. The best and worst, the up and down. This was okay. You will be sober tomorrow and life will go on.

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