Mary hated when he did this, acted like he was better than she was. How was he better? Just because he thought she should be able to get over this because he told her to? It wasn't that easy, and it infuriated her that he claimed it was.
And it hurt Mary that he didn't seem to see that the love she bore for him felt like the only thing keeping her afloat, even as it drowned her.
She drained the bottle and put it down, hard, on the balcony. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," Mary told him, moving (a little unsteadily) towards the door. "I'm getting out of here until this horrible day is over and dead. Won't come back until I can remember how to be beautiful and sexy and fun for you."
Mary could hardly be surprised he didn't want her around right now. Mary didn't even want to be around herself right now, and she didn't know how to deal with loss and pain in any of the ways he wanted her to.