Page 41 of The Marriage

They reeked of alcohol and cigarettes either way, and he couldn’t ignore the disgust he felt at himself as he tried to pretend like the room wasn’t spinning in his line of vision.

Jesus Christ.

Roman didn’t bother to move at that point. He needed several minutes before he could get out of bed, and face the damn day.

It was what it was.

In the shower—he stood under a steady, beating stream of hot water. It stung his skin, pinking it from the heat, just the way he liked it. When he placed his hands on the cold tiles, his knuckles hurt, reminding him that unfortunately ...

Well, he was still very much alive.

You can fix that, you know. It doesn’t matter when you’re high. Nothing matters when you’re high, Roman.

Just like that, his monster was back. Gnawing on his shoulder, clawing at the back of his brain. He thought about the sweet relief a pill would bring—one that would take away the pain, and keep the high going. By tonight, he could take a little something else to keep him from falling asleep if he didn’t want to dream.

It would be easy.

A little something—anything—to keep his mind off the fact that he still hadn’t spoken to Karine.

Once out of the shower, he changed into fresh clothes, but didn’t bother to take the time to trim his beard or even wrap his swollen hand that ached even more when he was out of the heat.

Roman’s mind was on one thing—making it all go away.

But the smell coffee halted those plans, for the moment, and he stepped out of his room, and peered down the hall. Through the glass wall that made up the loft of the garage, he could see Marky down below.

“You want some coffee?” he called up when he noticed Roman descending the stairs.

“What time is it?”

“Too late to wish you good morning,” Marky replied.

At least, his friend was less grumpy than he had been the previous night.

“I’m heading out, actually,” Roman declared, still doing up the buttons on his shirt.

“To where?”

“You my warden or something now?”

Marky wouldn’t approve of the pills he planned to go find, but at the same time, Roman didn’t feel like he owed the man shit. He owed no one nothing.

Except Karine.

“I need you to stay on track,” Marky said. “For Karine’s sake. You remember? Your wife who is currently receiving treatment for her mental health condition. A choice you made for her, Roman.”

Hearing her name was like a punch in the gut.

He didn’t need the reminder.

God.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” he said under his breath, leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Give her time.”

“She fucking hates me. What part of that do you not understand?”

“The part where you seem to forget you’re not a child, I guess. You don’t get to just act out because you’re mad or hurt. She needs help. You don’t. You have the ability to help yourself. So just fucking do that, man.”