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At dinner I get drunk. Like properly drunk. I don’t know how, but I have to make myself fall in love with this man. The writing is on the wall. We could be good together. We could stage a coup. We could have it all. I don’t recall what I ate. My appetite is diminished by my memories of ice baths and liquid diets, only now I’ve exchanged smoothies for rum. I could probably make it a combo deal if it came down to it. Mrs. Elizabeth would be proud. I guess I’m coming around to the idea of drinking my calories. This explains why the evening is kind of hazy.
But I do intend to remember what happens when we go back to our room. I have a plan. Clearly.
“Let’s fuck,” I tell Tom, stripping out of my clothes. Sometimes sex can lead to love.
“We can’t.”
“Sure we can.” I can hear my own slur. I need to slow down. We need to speed up. “It’ll be fine,” I assure him.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Tom is a liar.
He walks over to me and takes the glass from my hand. “I don’t like to see you like this.”
“What? Happy?”
My eyes meet his as he takes my chin in his hand. I don’t have a choice. He forces me to look at him. “Do I make you unhappy, Melanie?”
I shake my head slightly. It’s as far as Tom’s grip will allow. “I make myself unhappy,” I say. “I am not a nice person.” It’s one of the only truthful things I’ve ever really told him.
“How so?”
“I destroy everything in my wake.”
Tom offers a tight smile. I am too drunk to realize it’s not an appropriate response. “You won’t destroy me.”
“I might try.” This is the first time I come to understand that alcohol and Tom Anderson don’t mix well. There’s chemistry here. Maybe not love. But the chemistry is unmistakable. Without it, this would not have been a successful seduction to begin with.
He leans in and plants a quick peck on my lips. “Melanie,” he says as he pulls away and meets my eye. His expression is serious. More serious than I’ve ever seen. “Don’t take me to the deep end, if you know you can’t swim.”
When my husband exits the bathroom, he’s still in the process of toweling off. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he says, but in a way that it seems as though he’s just thought of it.
The room is spinning. I can’t recall the last time I was this drunk.
“Can you tell me a little about your previous lovers?”
“Why would you ask that?” My hand reaches for the wall. I have to steady myself otherwise I am going to be sick.
“You really shouldn’t drink,” he says. “Look what it does to you.”
I feel the weight of him as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
“Tell me what they liked.”
My eyes meet his.
I stare at him curiously. “You want to know what they were into?”
“I want to know everything about you.”
My breath catches.
Tom leans in and touches my face with the back of his hand. “I think we should do a little role playing.”
“You’re fucked in the head,” I say. “Seriously sick.”
His face is unreadable. “You have no idea.”
