My home made fried rice gazed up at me as I started to lose my appetite. I pushed it away, leaned back and lit up another cigarette. She paused momentarily, fork still in mouth, and her eyes attracted mine.
"What is it now?"
She swallowed her overly spiced bite of grain and removed the fork.
"Another cigarette? Didn't you just have one 10 minutes ago?"
"Whose counting?"
The smoked filled my lungs and I held it in. Closing my eyes, I let it all out and cracked a mild smile. She was still looking at me.
"Jesus Christ, what is it?"
"I have to talk to you."
"Alright. What's the problem?"
"I don't want you to touch drugs anymore."
I could only laugh. I hadn't touched a drug in years. My only drug now was love and I was more hooked on that then I was the real stuff.
"What drugs are you talking about? I haven't done anything in years but I can't promise I won't again."
"The other night you mentioned smoking opium. I don't want you doing that. It's bad enough your drinking every night and smoking a pack a day."
"You make it seem like I'm at the bar every night getting loaded and forgetting where I am."
I stood up and went to the trash can. Maybe a change of topic would ease this situation.
"What do you think about getting some wine?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm sitting here telling you I want you to quit drugs and slow down on the drinking and you ask me if I want wine?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, get dressed; And make it Zinfindel."
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