Rome didn’t get drunk. He drank socially, always controlled, always conscious of how he looked. I had seen him stop after one glass because he hated feeling as though anything had power over him. The man swaying outside my apartment looked like somebody wearing Rome’s face. My first instinct was to call the police. My hand went for my phone, with my thumb hovering over the screen. Then Rome’s shoulder slid down the wall, and he caught himself at the last second. My stomach turned in knots thinking about the fact that he had driven here like that.
Somehow, in that condition, he had gotten behind the wheel and made it to my apartment. If I sent him away and he climbedback into his car, he could kill himself or somebody else before reaching the next light. A door farther down the hallway cracked open. I saw my neighbor’s face appear through the peephole’s warped view.
“Shit.” I mumbled.
I unlocked the door and yanked it open. Rome’s head lifted slowly and his eyes were bloodshot and unable to settle on one point.
“There she go,” he slurred, with a lazy grin spreading across his face. “My wife.”
“You stupid son of a bitch.” I grabbed his arm before he could stumble backward. The smell of liquor hit me hard enough to make me turn my face away.
“Damn, wifey.” He dragged the word out as I pulled him across the threshold. “Why you talking to me like that?”
“Get your stupid ass inside before somebody calls the police.” I fussed.
“You called me stupid?”
“Yes!” I groaned above a whisper.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I absolutely do.”
He tripped over the edge of the rug with his weight falling against me. I shoved both hands into his chest to keep us from going down together. “Stand up!”
“I am standing.”
“You’re leaning on my whole body.”
“Same thing.” He slurred. I kicked the door shut behind him and turned the lock. Rome swayed in the middle of the living room, blinking at the candles as though he had never seen fire before. “It smell good in here.”
I ignored him. “Take your jacket off.”
“You miss me?”
“Hell No!”
He tried to remove the jacket himself, but his arm got caught halfway out of the sleeve. He turned in a slow circle, fighting the fabric while I watched in disbelief. “Oh, my God. Stop moving.”
I snatched the jacket down his arms and tossed it over the back of a chair. Rome looked down at himself. “You undressing me already?”
“Lay down before I push you down.” I warned.
He smiled crookedly. “You always liked when I…”
“Rome.” I cut him off and he finally caught my tone. The smile faded, and for one brief second, shame showed on his face before the alcohol swallowed it again. He dropped onto the couch, with one leg hanging off the side. I shoved his feet onto the cushions and pulled a pillow beneath his head. “You are not staying here.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m calling somebody to come get you.”
“Mhm.”
“Do you hear me?”
His eyes were already closed. Within seconds, his mouth fell slightly open, and one arm slid toward the floor. I stood over him, furious. The candlelight flickered across his face, softening features I had spent years memorizing. For one dangerous moment, he looked like the Rome I used to know. The man who came home from work and loosened his tie at the kitchen counter. The man who once carried me from the car because my shoes had blistered my feet. The man who had slowly turned every good memory into evidence I could no longer trust.
His phone began vibrating inside the jacket. I pulled it from the pocket and saw Ashley’s name on the screen. I stared at it until the call stopped. A second later, she called again so this time I answered.
