“Look, man.” I glug the wine into water glasses. “Take it from someone who has been in many intimate relationships with existential crises late at night. The wine doesn’t help, but the morning hangover really gives you some new perspective on life, makes you think ‘Hey, yesterday wasn’t that bad because I could sit down without wanting to puke, and I could watch TV without getting a migraine.’”
“There’s a cork in mine.” He frowns, looking into his glass.
“Just drink around it.”
“You get hangovers,” he says, fishing out the cork with his fork, “because you drink cheap wine.”
I’m draining my own glass. “Not all of us have a hundred dollars to spend on fancy wine.”
“This is a…” McCarthy peers at the label. “Fifteen-hundred-dollar bottle of wine.”
I choke on the wine. It dribbles out of my nose.
“Geez, man, you can’t leave that shit lying around where anyone could grab it. It was in your public-facing wine fridge, for God’s sake.”
“Public-facing?”
“Like if you have family members who come over. It’s like leaving a little money out by the door if you live in a bad neighborhood. They immediately grab it and don’t go rooting around your house for the good stuff.”
“My brothers are too smart to fall for that.” He sits back in his chair and takes a bite of soup.
“Well, la-di-dah. My family is tripping on the mushrooms they forage and would definitely fall for that.”
“Did you ever—” McCarthy stops himself.
“Hm? Damn, this wine is good. I could drink the whole bottle.” I hiccup. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing.” He waits a beat then says, “Did you ever live with your dad or anything? Or is he a member of a warring commune?”
“Nope, just an upper middle-class yuppie, as my mom says.” I scratch at my neck. “I tried, you know. Like I tried to be the kind of daughter he’d be proud of, but it’s like I was always off, always a beat behind. Didn’t have the right clothes, was too loud, too messy…I asked him to give me away at my wedding.”
“Which one?” McCarthy smirks.
“Har, har. All of them. I really thought he’d like Nathan.”
“Sounds like he and Nathan deserve to be buried alive together.”
“I’m actually starting to see the benefits of a man ignoring you.”
The grilled cheese crackles under my teeth when I bite into it. I like to sprinkle a little cheese on the pan when I make it, give it an extra crunch.
“Yum, this is that bougie cheese. It’s way better than Kraft Singles. Though those have a place in my heart.”
I’m babbling while McCarthy scowls, stirring his soup.
Nails clack on the floor, and Truman trots over to the table, begging for more food.
“Truman,” I hiss at the dog, trying to scoot him away with my foot. “Go watch TV or something.”
“Cupcake.” McCarthy absently takes a bite of the sandwich.
“He knows how to work the remote control.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does.” I’m stubborn. “Leave out the remote, and he’ll show you.”
Truman takes a leap of faith up to the chair next to McCarthy then into his lap.
