Ethan stood in the doorway, watching Lauren dance around the living room, clad only in her underwear. Hips swaying, blonde curls swinging, his heart sank at what should have been an enchanting sight as he spotted the bottle in her hand.
She turned towards the stereo, flipping the volume knob to a spot guaranteed to make the neighbours complain. Taking a swig from the bottle, she spotted him and ran to the door to hug him.
He could smell the alcohol as she approached, recoiling as her kiss revealed she’d been drinking for some time. Ethan shook his head. Less than a week ago he had her in the Accident and Emergency department for drinking too much and passing out.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"I was bored, so I went for a walk. Stopped to get some premixed drinks to bring home so I could relax."
"Did it work?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I just want to go to bed and fuck, if that's what you want to know. I'm glad you're home."
Ethan loosened his tie, looking around the room. The box on the floor was nearly empty of the bottles it had contained. "How many of these have you had."
"No idea. I watched some TV for a while, then it got hot so I took my clothes off."
"I thought you weren't going to do this anymore? I thought that was why you came here, to get away from this."
"It's just a few drinks. Come on, let's go to bed."
"Not this way. Not like this."
She rolled her eyes. "Come on. What's the problem?"
"The problem is that you're drunk and you don't even care that it's me. I could be anyone and you would want to have sex."
"That's ridiculous. I want to make love with my baby." She pouted, running her finger up his chest. "There's just one thing I want right now from you, Mister. Get upstairs."
"No."
"Ethan, come on." Now she was whining, and as much as he would have loved to take her upstairs, giving in to her wouldn't help the situation.
Ethan shook his head, flicking the volume down on the stereo before picking up the leftover bottles in the box. She protested as he removed them from the room, taking them to the bin outside. The empties were in the recycling bin and he paused to look at them. Disappointed, he turned back towards the house.
She stood in the doorway, dressed in her bra and panties. Her expression was one of bewilderment, as if she had no idea why he had turned his back on her.
He walked back into the house, passing her in the doorway without a glance.
"Ethan?"
"I can't do this right now," he said. "I thought we were past this."
"It was just a couple."
"There are six empties in the bin, one in your hand."
"That many?" she asked.
"This is what happens. One leads to another, and the next thing you're on some couch letting some random guy get his hands all over you."
"I said I was sorry. The only man I want is you. Come upstairs with me and I'll show you."
She grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him towards the stairs.
"I said no." He kept his voice calm, as if he were speaking to a child.
"Screw you," she screamed. "You're just the same as everyone else. Everybody leaves me. You take what you want and you leave."
"I haven't left you, Lauren. I love you so much that sometimes I feel I can't breathe, but I'm not going to watch you destroy yourself, and I'm not going to help that happen."
Lauren let out a sob, throwing the bottle against a wall. It exploded when it hit, glass flying as it fragmented. The milky white liquid inside dripped down the wall, flooding the patch of dark blue carpet below. She stared at what she'd done in horror, clapping her hands across her mouth as she fought back the tears that were flowing now.
Ethan fought the temptation to hold her. Wrapping her in cotton wool would only work for so long. She had to fight this herself, not leave him to fight for her.
He went after her as she ran up the stairs to the bedroom. She was on the bed, gripping the sheets as if she were trying not to fall off.
"Lauren, look at me."
He heard her sob again as she hid her face from him, pressing it against the bed.
Ethan sighed, sitting beside her. "Lauren. Enough is enough. Talk to me."
"Why are you being mean to me?"
"I'm sorry if I got angry. This whole thing scares the hell out of me. You know that. Yet I find you here, drinking, and not even realising what you're doing. It hurts. It hurts that you would tell me that you don't want that and yet you do it again. I'm only glad that you're in my house this time, and not in danger."
She sat up, her brown eyes full of tears, reaching for him to hold her. This time he let her win, holding her tight and running his fingers through her hair.
"I love you. If you let me, I'll be there for you. Don't push me away."
He felt her shaking as she pushed herself away him.
"I'm no good for you. You're such a good man, and I am just a waste of your time." She gasped as she let out another sob. "You should find someone without all the baggage I come with."
"Don't you ever say that. You make me feel alive. Without you, I would be alone as there is no one else I have wanted to be with in all these years."
"Can we snuggle?"
He smiled. "Of course we can, sweetheart."
She fell asleep in his arms, and Ethan lay staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours before going downstairs to clean up the mess she’d made. Most of the liquid had been absorbed into the carpet. It hadn’t stained, but Ethan sponged up what was left, picking up the tiny pieces of glass and wiping down the wall. There had to be an answer, and whatever happened now would either seal their relationship or destroy it. Thoughts of the latter made his heart ache.
He woke alone in the morning.
"Lauren?" he called out. When there was no response, he climbed out of bed. The en suite door was open and he checked for her before going down the stairs. "Lauren?"
There was a note on the coffee table and he picked it up slowly, turning it around in his hand. He sighed, torn between wanting to know what was written on it, and throwing it away. It could be a note to say she’d gone to the shops for bread, but it could also be a note saying goodbye. Even the note that Catherine left hadn't left him feeling so awful.
Slowly he opened it. All it said was that she was sorry, that she would find a way home and that she hoped he had a good life. Ethan's hands felt numb as he read the words, the pain of her leaving manifesting itself physically in a way he'd felt before.
Last time he had ached for his children. This time it was for himself. She’d run rather than face dealing with her problems.
Ethan sat on the couch, reading it over and over, looking for some hidden meaning to give him hope. He buried his head in his hands, unable to process what had happened.
She’d made her choice, and it wasn't him.