I looked at the wine list of reds and whites. There were many wrong answers, few right ones.
I smoothed my dress over my legs, over the bruises.
“You choose,” I implored, playing the game.
“No."
The server looked at his hand, then at me. He picked up the phone.
Please help me, I’d written. He’s abusive.
“A chardonnay… no, a riesling,” I mused, dragging out the game.
White, surrender. Red, stop.
Finally, an officer approached, staring down at my husband.
“A merlot, then,” I said, ending the game.