Page 20 of Storm's Deliverance
“I haven’t had a chance to grab any groceries. You could have picked some up,” I bite back.
He opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. He’s been drinking more over these past couple of weeks; not heavily, but a lot for him. He said on reflection that he didn’t have a problem withalcohol, only that he would steer clear of the hard stuff. Often, the nights ended with me going to bed, and him stumbling into bed hours later, his breath stinking of alcohol.
“There you go,” he sighs. “Do you think we could have just one night without your smart mouth?”
I pause dishing up and look at him. “Bad day?” It was never an excuse, but whenever it was a stressful day or he lost a patient, he would be in an attacking mood.
He rubs his face. “It’s always a bad day right now.”
“It will get better. There will be that one day that will remind you why you do what you do,” I say softly.
“Yeah, try telling that to the patient’s husband and crying kids,” he seethes. “Do you know what? I’m not hungry. Just leave mine.” He sighs and walks out of the kitchen.
I stand there, staring at his plate of food and decide to take it to him. He might change his mind. I grin at him as I walk over to him, placing it down on the new wooden coffee table.
“In case you change your mind.”
He looks at the plate of food, then back to me, his demeanour shifting. His jaw is set tight. “I said I don’t want it,” he seethes through gritted teeth.
“Fine, don’t eat it. I was just trying to do something nice after your shitty day, but you just continue to be a dick about it!” I snap back, snatching the plate back off the coffee table. I storm off into the kitchen, dropping his plate in the sink before walking into the bedroom and going to bed.
I’m notsure what the time is. The room is in complete darkness, but the sound of Zeke stumbling and cursing under his breath has woken me. I rub my eyes and sit up to put the lampon. He’s slumped on the bed, his jeans halfway down his thighs. I sigh and get out of bed to help him undress.
“Yeah, baby,” he slurs.
“No,” I huff as I yank down his jeans.
“Thought you bikers were good little whores. You don’t even suck dick anymore,” he mumbles.
I pause, looking at him. He’s a nasty drunk, and it’s something I’m only now becoming aware of. Is this why he was never really a drinker before? I brush off his comment and heave his legs onto the bed. After pulling the blanket over him, I climb back on my side of the bed. I don’t fall asleep for a long time, staring into the darkness of the room, questioning if moving in with Zeke was the best move. Or did I make a huge mistake?
