I laugh. “Aren’t you being just a little dramatic? It’s only alcohol.”
“It’s not only alcohol!” He’s back to yelling like a maniac again. “It’s my medicine!”
My eyes bug out a little at that. He sounds serious. “Your medicine?”
“Yes! My medicine!”
“I know your brother’s a real doctor, so I’m preeeetty sure you haven’t been given a prescription for Jack Daniels.”
“Fuck my brother and his prescriptions.”
“Okaaaay.” Wow, there’s some venom in those words. I wonder what happened between them.
“I need a drink.” He comes over to the fridge and yanks the door open.
“You’re not going to find anything in there other than orange juice and milk.” I go back to moving my steaks around in the oil. They’re almost ready.
“You had wine in here earlier, I saw it.”
Turning the heat off the meat, I use the spatula to transfer them over to the plates. “Not anymore. I dumped those bottles out too.”
“Why in the hell would you do that?” He sounds like he’s about to cry.
I turn to face him. “Because, I didn’t want to tempt you with something you shouldn’t have.”
He comes at me so fast, I don’t have time to grab the knife. His body is pressed up against mine and his face is bearing down over me. “I need that whiskey.”
I look up into stormy blue eyes and nearly cry for him. He’s so sad. I can see it so clearly now. It isn’t anger and maybe it’s not even addiction driving him to drink. It’s his wife. His dead wife.
“I’m sorry, Jeremy, but there isn’t any left.”
He glares at me, his mouth trembling, his eyes going red and tearing up.
I put a hand on his arm and squeeze gently, trying to show him that I understand. “Why don’t you just sit down and eat with me?”
He spins around and roars, yanking his arm away from me, his hands flying out to his sides as he half spins back towards me.
“I can’t eat dinner with you! I need to forget, don’t you understand?!”
“No!” I shout back, worried he’s about to lose his mind and we’re out here in the middle of nowhere. I have no idea how to help someone who’s so tragically broken. “I don’t understand at all! And I’m sorry about that, I really am!”
He glares at me, his face a mottled red. “You stand there in the kitchen cooking and making those faces at me, and I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t care! I don’t care, do you hear me!”
“Well, you’re shouting, so yes, I hear you loud and clear, but that doesn’t mean you’re making any sense, Jeremy.”
“I need the whiskey,” he mumbles, wandering over to the couch. “I need the beer.” He pulls his jacket from the bunch of blankets and shoves his arms into it.
“Where are you going?” I’m worried he’s thinking about going outside.
“I need it. It’s my medicine.”
I move to block the front door. “Medicine for what? What’s your illness?”
He walks towards me, stopping when he’s just a couple feet away. “My illness?” He laughs, but it’s bitter. “Memories.”
“Memories?”
“Yes. I need to forget how much I’m missing her.”
I try to sidestep and block his progress, but he gets around me anyway, taking me by the upper arms and setting me off to the side.
“You can’t go outside!” I shout. He’s crazy. It has to be below zero out there right now, and with the windchill factor, I’ll bet minus thirty or more.
A blast of cold air comes in and makes me grab for my chest as I try to hold onto the last bit of warmth I have.
“Watch me.” He walks out the door and slams it shut behind him.
I run to the window and see him fighting through the drifts of snow as he heads down the driveway. Within minutes, I lose his dark form in the swirls of white that are heavier now than they were just ten minutes ago.
My chest hurts with the pain I feel for him, but I’m not sure whether it’s pity or anger fueling the emotion. I’ve known people who’ve lost spouses before, but I’ve never seen anyone fall as far as this guy has. And he has a baby he’s left behind too. What a horrible thing this whole mess is. And here I am taking over his cabin — the place he came to escape everything and everyone.