After spending one drunken night tossing and turning, I called Carmen in the morning and begged her to come and stay with me. She agreed and showed up at the front door Saturday evening. I felt bad for making her drive to Cape May in the rain, but I was so glad to see her that I almost kissed her on the mouth as I pulled her into the house before I realized what I was doing and pressed my lips to her cheek instead. (In my defense, I was half in the bag by the time she showed up.)
“God, I can smell the alcohol on you,” she asked, pulling away from me. “Are you drunk?”
Why did people keep asking me that? “I’ve been drinking,” I told her. “There’s a difference. Do you want something?”
“I’ll have a beer,” she said.
After dumping Carmen’s bags in one of the spare bedrooms, we headed to the
