He only ever came to her deep in the bottle, talking to someone who wasn't there. Yearning for his Martha, who was dead two years. Always piss-ass drunk.

Still, she loved him, and she resented her sister. Her dead sister. As they made love, he would say her name rhythmically, over and over. Martha.

And she would try to be Martha. She would try to do what he would want. And she would wish that she were Martha.

He was gentle and kind, even piss-ass drunk. He could never hurt his Martha, and that was why she loved him.

Afterward she would cry, and he would yell. She looked like her, she made the same noises. He was drunk. She shouldn't have let him. And she would cry again.

Then one day he came to her, piss-ass drunk, and he cried. He said to her, Martha is dead. I will never see her again.

He still only comes to her deep in the bottle, yearning for his Martha. But as he moves and breathes and cries, he calls her name instead.