Over the five years we were together, there were many conversations, arugments, discussions, letter writings and pleadings on my behalf for him to stop drinking. He had lots of reasons to not stop. My favorite one was:
“It’s not like I beat you,” he said as he stood swaying and drunk. Eyelids half closed over eyes that couldn’t focus. Face slack. Lips wet with whiskey. He meant this. He seemed hurt that I hadn’t considered this.
True. He didn’t. Thanks.