Page 56 of The Skeikh's Games

“You were drinking?”

“Good evening to you,” he slurred. When he stepped into the door, she knew he didn’t mean to, but he lost his balanced and shoved her aside.

“Don’t tell me you rode your motorcycle home.”

Miles stumbled into the living room, looking around as though he lost something. “What was I supposed to do? Leave it all alone and scared in the parking lot. Hungry, crying.” He spun around to face her. “I had to.”

“I have been up worried to death about you, and you were out drinking.” She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing.

In all of the scenarios in her head, this had never even occurred to her. He was always so responsible with money, never spending anything he couldn’t replace with his own. After being together for so long, they had a joint account, and in all that time this was the first time he’d ever done anything like this.

“So how was it? Did you find a job in the bottom of a beer bottle?”

Miles snorted, kicked off a shoe and walked into the kitchen. His face was awash in the glow from the refrigerator as he was no doubt looking for something to drink.

“Miles, would you talk to me?”

He slammed the refrigerator door closed. “And when I speak you’re going to ear with your face?”

“What?”

“I’m just saying.” He took a few steps forward and leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re standin’ there, and I’m over here like, pfft, and I know it’s not going to matter.”

“Miles…” She pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to calm herself. Losing her temper now wouldn’t win her anything. He was drunk and not making sense.

“It’s stupid, okay?” he said. “I can be a pilot and sharpen pencils, and it won’t matter, because you’re just here like an island.”

“What does that even mean, Miles?”

He cupped his hands together in urgency. “You’re an island! And you’re not even floating, ya know? You’re there, and it’s like, you’re paradise and I’m just flying over. Well you know what? The plane is going down. Engines three and four blew. So drink all the little liquor bottles in the back, because when we crash, it won’t even matter anyway.”

All Saundra could do was watch with wide eyes as he furiously unbuttoned his shirt and pushed his pants down to his knees as he walked into the bedroom and fell onto the bed. What plane? He was beyond making any sense. The best she could hope for was to just let him sleep it off and hope he made more sense in the morning.

He was out in seconds, and she had to go take off his other shoe and finish undressing him before throwing the blanket over him.

She couldn’t stomach falling asleep in the bed next to him, so she grabbed a spare blanket and pillow and got comfortable on the couch. As she settled down in the dark living room, the words of her friend came back to her.

Was she holding him back because she was being so supportive? This behavior wasn’t like him at all. Was he getting worse? Did he rely on the fact that she’d always be there for him, so it gave him a safety net to go mess around and do whatever he wanted instead of taking care of his responsibilities?

She hated to think that was true, but she was starting to lose sight of what else it could be. She didn’t know how she could help him, and didn’t know if she should stop helping.

Miles sat slouched against the bar, staring into nothing, swallowing the last taste of his beer. He idly tapped the bottom rim against the cheap cardboard coaster as he waited for the bartender to come back around. The place was quiet, and smelled like stale cigarettes and even more stale people. There wasn’t much going on in the bar that night, which was why he preferred it. It wasn’t too far from home, but there wasn’t so much commotion that it made him feel overwhelmed.

He was already on sensory overload. He needed to numb himself. Numb his brain numb his heart, numb everything. Everything was collapsing all around him and the pain was just too much to take. Miles never considered himself a weak man. He’d had to fight and scrape just to survive every chapter in his life. Fighting was what he did. This was just a testament to how utterly devastated he felt. His support, his love, his strength was gone from him. Piecing away one at a time.

He’d have to tell Saundra eventually about this child he supposedly had, and then she’d leave him for good. He just knew it. There was no way she’d stick around, and he wouldn’t ask her to. How could he? After being such a screw up for so long, and then to suddenly dump a child and four years of child support on top of his perpetual unemployment? Who would stay?

The emotions started to rise from the void in his chest up to his face again, and he shoved it down with anger. Slamming his palm against the bar to get the bartender’s attention he called out, “Come on! What are you serving them, the whole bar?”

“I’m only saying this once, buddy,” the bartender called back. “Shut it and wait quietly, or get the hell out.”

Miles opened ups hands, ready for a fight, ready for any excuse to not think about the imminent loss of Saundra. “It’s not my fault you’re taking forever. If this place was a desert I’d be dead already.”

“What jerks,” a man said as he took a seat beside Miles at the bar. “Am I right?”

“Seriously,” Miles said. The anger, while a momentary distraction, was also driving off his buzz. Futilely he tipped back the empty beer bottle, hoping for a last few drops still in there but all he got was a touch of foam against the tip of his tongue.

The stranger set a beer down in front of Miles. “Here you go, have one on me.”

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