He’d grown used to it…every night she had too much to drink…would curl up on the couch in her robe and tell him to fetch her another one…long fingers with painted red tips held out a stemmed wine glass with purple sediment in the bottom…he did as he was asked…

And she never moved from that spot…in the mornin’ when he woke up she was there on the couch…evenin’ time when came home from workin’ all day at the GM plant she’d still be there with a bottle of burgandy by her side…he’d join her for one or two…that’d be it…could never keep up with her…

She’d polish off a glass and then lay her red hair down in his lap as he stroked it…lighting a cigarette…she could barely reach the ash tray on the table…he’d take it from her and put it out…Virginia Slims smoked down to the filter…her mouth tasted of menthol when she would kiss him in a vain attempt to make love…he always knew it wouldn’t go far…

The days of them makin’ love was long over…he’d settle for her layin’ there…watchin’ the television…some guy askin’ a celebrity questions with the sound down low…cars would drive by…he’d look at ’em…just look at ’em…

She’d murmer these incoherent stories…tales of when she was in high school…her first love…first job…first time she got drunk…same stories every night…he’d just nod his head…

He was in love with her…sometimes things don’t matter…,Hey babe…go fill up my glass please…, she’d say…and he would…he always would…