MAITLIN MYERS - WINE

Maitlin Myers is an avid gamer on the PlayStation. She also takes up casual archery. She dedicates some of her leisure time to tending to her garden while her ragdoll cats accompany her. Maitlin is an adopted Ukrainian girl who grew up in a reserved town called Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida.

Wine
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Our foreheads are pressed upon each other’s, our hands are intertwined as we sway to the melody that the phonograph emits. Our fireplace warms the room, yet his warmth is all I yearn for. I am his Honey, his delectable treat. He is my Wine, my buzz that I never want to sober from. He is aged and rugged, he is the one whom all go out of their way to try to get. However, I was the lucky one. For this was our first anniversary, united as one.
The doorbell rings. We exchange a stare. Who would be here? Especially at midnight? I thought this night was reserved for us. We cleared our work schedules just to dedicate this time for each other. Maybe it was one of his friends? He is more experienced with life than I. Even so, I would have expected him to tell his friends he is busy tonight. He releases the grip we shared and heads toward the front door.
“Did one of your little boyfriends bring this?” he asks.
My heart plummets to my stomach. He had his back toward me but yet I could feel all love dissipate. He closes the front door and turns back toward me, a bottle of wine clenched in his hands. I need to answer. I need to. Yet I do not have any answers he wants.
“Who brought that? Was anyone at the door?” I say.
“No. It was left here. I’m sure I know who it was - who bestowed such a gift for you,” he responds.
Moments pass. I spew pillow-talk in order to try to resume our previous delicate moment. Yet he leaves me with no answers this time. His utter silence provokes me. I know exactly what he is thinking. Thinking preposterous lies because I am just a child in his eyes. How could he change his mood so quickly? Tonight, we were supposed to celebrate us, but it seems neither of us are love-drunk.
The bottle of wine sits at his nightstand. Tonight, we slumber so far apart. I want to scooch over and at least press my head against his back. I want to wrap my arm over him and somehow convince him that everything is okay. I do not know how. I’m a failure of a wife.
“I love you...”
The morning finally comes. I roll over, only to see the bottle staring at me. The drawers to the nightstand and armoire are open and empty. Just like me. Today marks the day. I am sobered. However, I am an alcoholic - yearning to be drunk, at least once more. Yet it was a bottle that shattered us.
I suppose Wine and Honey doesn’t make a great elixir. The bitterness is so profound alone, why would you want to mix it with something so overwhelming? It’ll simply kill off the taste that the wine has had. For that night, we both took wretched swig of it. However, one’s glass was filled to the brim while the other only had a shot. The taste was powerful, leaving our throats tainted.