Sometimes he even smiled when he said it. So I drank. Years passed, and that strange little ritual became part of our lives.
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Even our children joked about it.
“Mom and Dad have their evening tradition.”
I laughed with them.
Until one evening. I had been feeling tired that day. Not sick. Just exhausted. George brought out the glasses as usual.
I pushed mine away.
“I don’t want any tonight.”
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He froze. At first, I actually laughed.
“George, what’s wrong?”
He stared at my glass. Then at me.
“Drink it.”
His voice sounded completely different.
“I said I don’t want it.”
He slammed his hand against the table so hard that both glasses shook.
“Margaret, just drink it.”
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In forty years of marriage, I had never seen him react like that.
I stood up.
“Why is this so important to you?”