“Marcus, you scared me.” Relaxing my shoulders, I made my way toward him. When I got closer, I noticed that his eyes were blood shot. He could barely keep them open. “Did you drink all of that?” I asked, reaching for the bottle in his hand. He pulled back in his seat and chugged another swig of the drink, then slammed the bottle back on the desk making a thumping noise. Now I know where the noise was coming from.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered in a raspy tone.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked worried. He seemed lost. I’d never been around him this intoxicated, so I maintained my distance. You never know what to expect from a drunken person.

Taking another sip from the bottle, he smiled. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m great!” He threw his hands in the air laughing.

“Marcus, let’s go to bed, okay?” I whispered, hoping my low voice would lower his.

“You know what fucking pisses me off?” he said, dismissing my plea.

“What, baby?”

“When people say, ‘don’t worry about it; it will get better,’ or I love this one um, ‘things happen for a reason.’” He burst into laughter. I just stared at him lost.

“Yeah, that pisses me off too, Marcus,” I said, trying to side with him.

He looked up at me with his brows pulled in. “See that’s why I love you so much.” He shook his head. “You don’t deserve me, Mia. You deserve someone so much better than me.” Carelessly he stood up, dipping side-to-side as he made his way toward me. He tripped over an area rug and fell into me. I stumbled back but managed to keep us from falling. The liquor from his breath and clothing was so strong I couldn’t bear it. He chuckled at himself and straightened his posture, pulling me into him.

Looking into my eyes, he seemed to search for answers. “Why do you love me?” he asked.

I looked at him troubled by his question. “Marcus … you should know … you’re funny, sweet, and a gentleman. I love how you talk about your family. I know they mean everything to you. And today watching you with Elle, I know one day you’ll make a wonderful father.”

“You think all that about me?” he asked disgusted. I nodded. “I’m an evil man. You only know half of me. If you knew the other half, you would run. I’m far from perfect, Mia.”

Grabbing his face, I managed a stern tone. “Hey, no one’s perfect. I love you no matter what. You hear me?” He looked away. I grabbed his face and pulled him back to look at me; his eyes softened. “I love you, Marcus, perfect or not, but obviously whatever you’re into is breaking you. If you don’t let me in, I won’t be able to help you.”

Pressing his lips down, he looked like he was going to break. His eyes were watering, his face was red, and he let out a heavy sigh. “Mia, I’m—”

“That’s enough, Marcus.” Jimmie stormed into the room. He snatched the bottle of brandy from Marcus’ hand and tossed it into a trash bin beside the desk.

Startled by his entrance, I mumbled, “Jimmie, Elle is in Marcus’ room.”

“I know. I went to look for her when I didn’t see her in her room. She told me that she heard noises, and you went to find out what it was … I’m sorry about this, Mia. I’ll take him into one of the other rooms,” he said, throwing Marcus’ arm around his shoulder. Then he wrapped his arm around Marcus’ waist to hold him up.

“No, no, take him to his room. I can’t leave him like this.”

Jimmie nodded once. He managed to help Marcus walk up the stairs and down the hall. By the time we reached the room, Marcus pleaded for the bathroom. Jimmie placed Marcus in front of the toilet. Marcus hugged the toilet and began to throw up. His face was red, and veins popped out of his neck and temples each time he vomited. Jimmie leaned against the sink, legs and arms crossed. He looked exhausted.

“Jimmie, it’s okay, I’ll take it from here. Go ahead and go to bed.” Looking up at me, he thought for a moment, and then his shoulders relaxed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking back down at his brother. I followed and watched as Marcus continued to vomit and groan.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Glancing at his brother once more, he shook his head and walked out, closing the bathroom door behind him. I waited a few seconds before I went by Marcus’ side.

“How you feeling, baby?” I asked, rubbing the palm of my hand on his back.

“Like crap,” he said, choking on his own vomit.

“Yeah, well you smell like crap too. Do you want to take a shower?” He shook his head.

“I know you don’t want to do anything right now, but you’ll be doing me a favor if you take a shower. Also you’ll thank me tomorrow morning…I’ll take one with you.”

Lifting his head from the toilet bowl, he groaned, “Fine.”

Testing the temperature of the faucet I turned the shower on. I walked back to Marcus; he was leaning against the sink cabinet. Sighing at him, I began to take his clothes off. Starting with the easiest, I tossed his boots off. Luckily, he wore a button-down shirt, so I just quickly unhooked the buttons and removed the shirt. It was exhausting taking off clothes for a drunken man. His arms weighed three times as much. After I wrestled and struggled with his jeans and boxers, he was completely naked.

Tossing my t-shirt and shorts off, I kneeled before him and placed his arms around my shoulders. I tried lifting him once, but he didn’t bulge; I tried again, nothing. “Baby, you have to help me a little. Try to stand up for me.” Groaning, he obliged. We slowly made our way to the shower, and he sat in the tub instead of standing. I adjusted the showerhead, so the water could hit him. He leaned his head back against the tile wall and shut his eyes. His head gently rolled from side-to-side as he moaned. I grabbed the washcloth and soap. Kneeling across from him, I nestled between his legs.

“Mia?” His eyes were still closed when he called my name.

“Yes Marcus?” I asked while rubbing the cloth over his chest. The water dripping over his head rinsed the foamy suds away.

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t respond just continued to wash him. What was I going to do with him? I loved this man so much, but I had no idea what to expect in this relationship. Can I handle more nights like this? Is this an ongoing event? I’d save my questions for the morning, because when he wakes up, I’ll be questioning the hell out of him.




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