Page 133

LARISSA

Babe, are we okay?”

Mike had cornered me in our room. It was almost dinnertime. I’d somehow managed to mostly dodge him for the last six hours.

He was looking at me now, standing in front of the bed, his expression worried.

I wondered if it was even worth trying to discuss this. How much had he already had to drink today? Four drinks since I’d been here. At least that I’d seen.

I was the kind of person who counted drinks now.

I felt wrung out. Like I’d aged ten years in the last three days, and five of them were on the car ride up.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. “You’re kind of off.”

“Mike, do you really not remember the other night, before you came to the cabin?” I asked.

He gave me a searching look.

“I came home and you were drunk. You passed out. You…” I had to gather myself to tell him this. “You peed all over the floor. You slept in it.”

I watched his face transform. The color creeping up his cheeks.

“Do you remember buying the bottle of vodka?” I asked.

He nodded slowly. “I remember,” he said quietly.

He stared at me for a long second. Then he turned and sat on the bed.

“Mike, I will not be with someone who does this,” I said to his back. “I can’t.”

“I know.” He stared at a crocheted dream catcher on the wall. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say. It just got away from me.”

“Got away from you how? You were home alone, drinking by yourself? I mean, I could see if you were at a party or something, but… alone?”

He didn’t reply.

“Do you… do you do this a lot?” I asked.

He blew out a breath. “Sometimes.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “How long has this been happening?”

He paused. “Off and on for a couple of years.”

My arms fell. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It helps.”

“Helps with what?”

“Everything? Sleeping. Talking. Being me.”

I didn’t reply.

“You didn’t deserve this. I’m embarrassed and I’m sorry,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

When I didn’t reply, he turned to look at me.