Dance for Me(39)

“How are you and Jason doing?”

Annie sits up straight in her chair, flips her blonde hair over her shoulder, and focuses on her tea as if she’s hoping to see her future in it. “Good. Some things came up and we talked. I think we’re in a good place right now.”

Something in her voice catches my attention. It tells me to follow up, and I do. “Some things? What does that mean?”

I don’t miss the way her gaze skitters around the room, nor the way she chews her bottom lip like it’s candy. When she finally looks at me, she’s wearing this strange expression that makes me nervous. “Jason accepted a job in California…and he asked me to go with him.”

I can’t breathe. It feels like someone sucked all the oxygen out of the room and my lungs are about to collapse. I flounder for something to say, but all I come up with is an angry, “Are you crazy!”

Annie doesn’t appear the least bit surprised by my outburst, although a couple heads turn to see what the fuss is about. “I’ve thought about it a lot over the last week, and I believe that this is a good move.”

“You think?” I huff. Unbelievable. The one person in my life, who I thought had a good head on her shoulders, has lost her ever-loving mind. I may not know a ton about Jason, but what I do know is enough for me to say that she’s too good for him and she’ll regret it. “To move halfway across the country, you’d better be a hell of a lot more positive than that.”

I’m mad. Steaming. Ready to hunt down Jason and kick him in the sack for trying to take my friend away.

“I am sure, Joe.” She sighs, reaching across the table and placing her hand over mine. I think about pulling it away, but I don’t. I leave it there and decide to hear her out. “This isn’t a snap decision. There’s more to it than just deciding to follow my boyfriend to Cali.”

“Then why don’t you tell me, because right now, I’m seriously upset with you. I can’t believe that you’d just up and leave me alone like this. Sisters before misters, remember?”

“You know Jason and I had a plan.” She slowly draws back and I can tell that whatever she wants to say, she’s afraid. Why would she be afraid to talk to me?

Realization hits me and I slump back in my chair. Why else would a woman walk away from her life, unless she was given a very good reason? “Oh, my God. You’re pregnant.”

Her emerald eyes flare and her mouth drops open for a split second, before setting into a firm line. I have my answer. Stunned, frustrated, worried…so many emotions run through me that I can’t get a handle on them all.

Sliding my chair back, I dump my tray in the garbage and stride toward the exit. Annie calls after me, but it’s just background noise.





SEVENTEEN





I sing, badly. But that doesn’t stop me from trying. The next song is “Dance Magic” and I roll right into it, even though I hate David Bowie. I’m much more of a Billy Idol kind of girl.

There is no shame in admitting that you are alone and plastered before dinner time on a Monday, especially if there is no one you know around to see you crashing and burning in a puddle of self-pity.

Why a puddle of self-pity? I’m still trying to figure that out. I just know that there is this ache in my chest that is only dulled by the burn of alcohol, so I keep pouring more, hoping to lose myself so completely that this day will be nothing more than a black hole in my memory. But, after I lose my balance and nearly break my ankle, I do the smartest thing I’ve done all day—I throw in the towel and drop down on the couch.

The silence that follows drives home how alone I truly am, and when I kill the music, the lively atmosphere in the living room dies along with it.

Life sucks. Anyone who says differently is a liar or an idiot. Taking on the responsibilities of an adult before you know how to be one sucks. Losing both parents before the age of eighteen sucks. Using your body to get by might sound like a fantasy to some, but in reality, it sucks. Knowing you have very little claim on the man you call your boyfriend sucks, too.

From the very first breath we take, we’re destined to experience pain. I’ve experienced enough of it that it’s begun to drown out any happiness that might dare come my way. Some days, my senses feel dulled, my emotions diluted. I ignore it all and push on. Otherwise nothing would get done. All of it, every last bit, just plain sucks.

I lift my half-empty glass of scotch and toast the air, then slug it down. The burn feels good, makes me feel alive. Then the lethargy begins to kick in, and I figure, why not have another? Maybe this one will do the trick. There’s no one here to tell me to stop, no one here to judge my actions. It’s just me and the bottle.