Page 104 of Imperfect Player

“How dare you.”

He laughs. “How dare I what?”

“Fuck up my career,” I tell him. “If you don’t want to be with me, don’t give a damn about me, that’s fine. Take your bullshit lines and use them on someone else. But do not mess with my career.”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything to you!” he shouts. “This isn’t about you.”

“Then what is it about, because you’re sure as hell taking it out on me.”

He rises to his feet and staggers toward the kitchen. “Just get out.”

That would be the easy route, wouldn’t it? Walking away like he expects me to. Giving into him like he wants. Allowing him to continue on when I know that deep down, he’s better than this.

“No,” I say as I follow him into the kitchen.

He yanks open a cabinet door and pulls a bottle from it, then slams said bottle on the counter.

“Get out!”

This time he shouts the words.

“Is that what you really want, Ethan? Because if I walk out that door, I’m not coming back.”

“Just like the rest of them.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to your parents. They left because they are bad people, selfish people. I’m here, Ethan. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re the one pushing me away. Throwing away what we have.”

“We don’t have anything.”

“You seem pretty pissed about me leaving for us to not have anything.”

“I’m not pissed. You leaving is inevitable.”

“No, it’s not. Not everyone leaves. I. Don’t. Leave.”

“You would if you knew the truth.”

“What truth is that, Ethan? That you have a drinking problem? Newsflash, I know, and I’m still here. Still fighting. For you. For us.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“You fight for things that matter. You fight for things you love.”

“I’m not worth it. I’m not loveable.”

“Whoever told you that is a liar.”

Ethan drinks, straight from the bottle.

Seeing him like this tears me apart. I can only imagine what feeling like this does to him. How whatever it is that happened in his past pushes him to do things I know he doesn’t want to do. Like drink. Or push me away.

The unworthy feeling that’s engrained in him. The pain from the hurtful words and actions. His inner child is suffering, his adult self is drinking to try to soothe the ache.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand. Tell me, Ethan.”

He stalks toward me. The look in his eyes, filled with pain and fury, causes me to back up. I’m pressed against the wall, his hands resting on either side of my face.

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