I come slinking back into the apartment about noon. My clothes reek of smoke and liquor and my anus is still really sore and I just feel like shit, like crawling into bed and staying there the rest of my life. I sit down in the living room, light a cigarette.

Barb comes out of the bathroom in a robe, drying her hair with a towel. She walks into the living room, sees me, stops. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," I say. Neither of us say anything, and Barb comes over, steals one of my cigarettes, sits down on the other side of the room.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm really, really sorry."

Her posture slumps. "So am I."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" I ask. She shakes her head no, and I gently smile. "Neither did I. Let's go to bed, okay? Let's go to bed, Barb, and try to sleep off the whole last twenty-four hours. Let's just... let's just try to pretend this whole last day never happened."

She silently nods. I stand up, take her by the hand, and lead her back to the bedroom.