Page 51 of Come Apart

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Chapter Seven

Samantha almost shrieks when I pull out the Cabernet.

It's not a bottle. It's a juice box. Well, a wine box.

Her jaw drops. "I thought you were joking."

"I'm not that cruel." I place two water cups—flimsy plastic things—on the table attached to her bed. "When are you getting out of here?"

"Tomorrow."

I pour the wine into the tiny cups. It's such a violent, vibrant shade of crimson that the whole room fills with color.

She brings the cup to her lips and takes a tiny sip.

"Is it acceptable?" I ask.

She smirks. "I'm not in a position to be choosy."

The wine stains her lips the same vibrant shade. Her whole face floods with color.

She takes another sip. "Better than I expected from a juice box."

"It's easier to smuggle than a bottle."

"There's nothing in the hospital policy that specifically forbids wine."

I run my fingers over the edge of the cup. "You didn't just take your medication, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not a complete idiot. Even I can learn from my mistakes."

My shoulders relax a little.

Though maybe bringing wine might be enabling her... shit, I just don't really know what to do anymore.

I drag the ugly green chair, placing it next to her bed.

"I've been thinking... you know, you don't have to stay with your parents."

It clearly hasn't been a good thing.

"I thought it would help," she explains, sighing. "Get away for a while. There was so much gossip floating around the office, especially when people heard I landed in the hospital. You must remember."

"You were vague about what happened."

She looks at me like I'm an idiot, again. "What am I supposed to say—I was fucking the boss, who, as you guys probably know, is my fiancé's father? And I got so depressed after he died that I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills?"

I wince.

"It's okay for a first draft."

She shakes her head. "It was better to say nothing."

I can't say she's wrong.

We're quiet for a while. We stare into our plastic cups of wine, sipping it so we won't have to talk.

Samantha stares at her fingers. She squeezes her cup so tightly I think it will break.