The Resistance(91)

“Nothing, just—” A phone from the next table rings, interrupting me. The ringtone is The Resistance. Hearing the song breaks my heart all over again.

“Will you excuse me?” I toss my napkin on the table and walk away before he has a chance to respond. He’s my neighbor. He’s my friend. That’s all. He’s my neighbor. He’s my friend. That’s all. Dalton. Dalton. Dalton. Damn him!

I push open the door to the women’s restroom and hurry to the sink. With my hands flat on the counter, I lean forward, so close to the mirror that my nose almost touches. I’m not drunk, and I don’t know what other signs I’m looking for in my reflection, but I can’t find anything different. My eyes are hazel, my hair is sandy-blonde, Dalton doesn’t love me anymore, and I’ve got what appears to be a new wrinkle on the outside of my right eye.

Jerking my head back, I stand upright convinced that no one should ever have to look at themselves that close up. But the reality is—I have a few wrinkles, plain brown eyes and dirty blonde hair on a bad day. On a good day, I had Dalton.

I don’t have good days anymore.

But I deserve them, so I walk back and sit down across from Danny. “How’s your food?”

He takes a sip of his wine, and says, “Really good. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I look up and see his concern. “Really. I’m fine and I’m having a good time.”

“Good. I aim to please.”

“I just bet you do.” I punctuate with a wink.

“There she is,” he says, raising his glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, the sarcastic and clever girl I’ve gotten to know is back.”

I pull his arm down. “Okay. Okay. I got the message. I’m here. You got me—body and mind, fully present on ole Danny boy.”

“I don’t know about the ‘Ole Danny boy’ part, but I like the idea of your body on me.”

I roll my eyes for what feels like the tenth time tonight and laugh. “Don’t forget my mind—”

“Oh, don’t worry. Your mind is one of the things… You know, we should save that conversation for another time, after many alcoholic beverages.”

“Okay.”





We’re definitely going to have to catch a cab home tonight. Danny’s just handed me my third shot of tequila and neither of us is in any condition to drive. I don’t even know where we are. It’s a bar, near the restaurant, but other than that, nada.

The music is loud and the bar packed for a Wednesday. For a few brief moments, the pain I’ve felt over the loss of Dalton in the last month is replaced… almost. But I’ll take it, because it feels good to feel ‘almost’ normal again.

With a big, cocky grin on his face, and the crowd chanting my name, it’s my turn to do a body shot—off of Danny. He pulls his shirt over his head and the women in the bar go nuts, calling his name and whistling. Deep down, I’m confused because I’m starting to feel territorial over him. He’s with me… at least for the night.

His shirt hits me in the face, but I’m too drunk to care. I tie it around my neck and step forward as he starts to lie down on top of the bar. He turns my way and says, “Photographic evidence or it didn’t happen.”

“Yes, we definitely need a picture to cringe over tomorrow when we feel like shit and can’t remember anything that happened the night before.” I dig through my purse to find my phone.

Just as I pull it out, he adds, “Oh baby, I’ll remember every second of this.”

I shove a lime in his mouth to pipe him down, which makes him laugh, and hand the phone to a girl who is way too eager to take this picture. I notice it’s still off from when I needed peace from work and the wedding vendors earlier in the night. “Hold up. Let me turn it on.” I tell the girl to hit the camera icon when the screen loads up. “And tell me when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” she says. “Ready.”

At the last moment, I set the shot glass down on his stomach instead of pouring the liquid on him. Using my mouth, I tip it back, then drop the glass into my hands. The alcohol burns as it slides down my throat, but Danny’s hand on the back of my arm is warm and comforting, encouraging me to take the lime, which typically ends in a kiss.

My text message alarm goes off, causing me to glance over my shoulder, distracting me from his lips… the lime, I mean. The girl hands the phone back to me and I catch a glimpse of Dalton’s name on the screen. Danny pulls me closer, and the boisterous chanting that surrounds me, reminds me of the lime waiting in his mouth. The text ring goes off again, and I look down at it, my heart thundering in my chest, a lump in my throat forming. Dalton. I can’t put this off. I’ve waited too long to hear from him. Touching Danny’s shoulder, I say, “I’m sorry. I need to check this.”