He wasn’t in a good mood last night. That was for sure, after I was done with him. He said, “I don’t like it when you drink,”
I said, “if you don’t like it when I drink, I won’t drink around you,”
He said, “I never said that,”
Angry. He was angry. I had two glasses of wine, and he got angry.
“You drank four beers in one night last week, I saw them,” he snapped.
“Do you remember why? Do you remember what you said and told me?” I asked. The two glasses of wine wearing off by now, anger replacing the slightly warm feeling of being pleasantly buzzed.