One Plus Two Minus One

Chapter Ten

Robert came home at three in the morning, drunk again. Beth woke up when he opened the front door. She heard him drop his keys in the hallway, heard him stumble coming up the stairs. From the noise he was making, he was worse tonight than he had been the night before.

She rolled over and hoped he’d hurry up and quiet down. She owed him something, and a bit of this was understandable, but if he got into a habit she was going to get sick of being woken up very quickly.

He came into the bedroom. He left the hall light on and the door open and didn’t seem to realize, and she didn’t bother telling him. He took his clothes off, fell onto the bed, climbed in.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m awake.”

He was fumbling around under the covers. It took her a minute to realize he was looking for her, groping around until he found her. He slid over, pressed against her back, hugging her, whispering, “Beth,” like he was trying to wake her up or something.

“What?”

“Are you awake?”

“Course I am. You fucking stink.”

“I’m shitfaced.”

“I know.”

He put his hand on her tummy, seemed to be pulling at her shirt. “Really fucking shitfaced.”

“Yeah.”

“I want you.”

“I know, but you can’t have me.”

“No,” he said, his hand under her shirt, on her bare breast. “I want you.”

She lay there for a moment, not quite sure what to do. He tried to kiss her. His breath stunk, and when he found her cheek, he was slobbery too.

“Stop it,” she said.

“I want you, Beth.”

“I know, but fuck off.”

“You’re mine, Beth. I can’t let you go.”

She reached over and turned on the light and then looked at him for a moment. She was almost worried by that. He didn’t normally say such things. She didn’t like the idea he thought she was his, and she really didn’t like the idea he couldn’t let go of her. She wasn’t sure if that meant he’d hurt her, or he’d hurt himself, but whatever he meant, him thinking that was her fault.

“What do you mean?” she said. “That you can’t let me go?”

“We’re meant to be together.”

“We might not be,” she said carefully. “Not meant to be.”

“We are.”

He was still playing with her tit. He pinched her nipple a bit hard. He didn’t mean to hurt her, she thought, was just drunk and clumsy. He reached down, rubbed her through her underwear.

“Oh shit no,” she said. “Fuck off.”

He shook his head, and kept trying.

“Robert,” she said. “You fucking asshole.”

“You’re mine, Beth.”

Her sympathy was fading fast. “I’m really not.”

He’d got his hand inside her underwear, and pushed his fingers into her. She wriggled, tried to get away. She still wasn’t sure how seriously to take this.

“Hey,” she said. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He slid over, on top of her, trying to pin her down. Holding her down, she thought, on the bed, like Ethan had a dozen times.