Thursday May 8, 2014
Through the crowded space I could see her sitting at the bar with her sleeves pulled down right over hands. Hiding. Fiddling. I wanted to scoop her up right then and there and free her of her timid isolated prison and tell her, woman you don’t need to run away. The world wants you. She had two shot glasses lined up in front of her and was crashing them into each other, getting tiny splashes of the glass remnants onto her sleeves. The local band had started to play their set and everyone was moving closer to the stage. She didn’t move. She didn’t even turn. She ordered another shot of nondescript liquor from where I was standing and I could only assume it was vodka because she hated the way gin made her so volatile. She stared at her shot glass for longer than appropriate. I waited, thinking she needed to be alone. But I also felt like she needed to be saved from herself and having another body around just sitting in her silence might help.
Tuesday February 18, 2014
A sign at the Dosa Restaurant
“I’m feeling like there’s a big change comin’,” Margie says. “I’m feeling like the only change is that all the damn TV plays is bullshit about the shitty shitter Olympics!” Rona swigs back her coffee, forgetting it’s hot. “Shit!” She cries, spitting coffee everywhere. Margie rushes over with a sponge. Rona blows in the mug and sips again. She’s the type to get right back up on that horse. Margie learned about putting cinnamon in her coffee when she went down to Montreal when she was younger. It’s all fancy like. “I’m just sayin’…” She says, “for me, somethin’ is changin’… Somethin’ big!” Rona rolls her eyes and lights a du Maurier. “You hear about how much those Russian shits drink vodka?” Rona blows smoke out real slow. “Five times anyone else, that’s how much!” She laughs like she just made a joke. Margie and me roll our eyes.
Sunday October 13, 2013
The Unhealthy Truth
My dad told me when I was young enough to fuck up the way I did, but old enough to feel badly, that I should never forget to mix hard alcohol with orange juice or something. Straight vodka doesn’t go well with girls who think white rum is the same thing….
I had made that mistake when I was 15. Old enough to know better, young enough to try to be sneaky about it. I was carried home by both of my parents from a party at which I had blacked out and chipped part of my front tooth. I didn’t know I was making it easier for my tooth to be susceptible to further damage. Now 11 years later, the whole bottom half is completely missing from a car accident. I didn’t realize it till now that it was a vulnerable tooth and that I was the one who should be responsible. All from when I drank too much at a friend’s party while her parents were out of town. And all because I thought that the more you drink the better you feel. My mother was disappointed. More than angry, which, as usual, is always way worse. My dad, I think, was relieved. He was happy to do some parenting. He was happy I was learning those hard life-lessons while I was still interested in gaining their approval.