“Here, drink this,” Grandma Betty says, sliding a giant strawberry margarita in front of me.
“It’s ten a.m.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
The stench of tequila is strong, promising one helluva a headache later if I finish this. But before I feel like there’s a midget inside my head beating on my skull with a hammer, I’ll feel nothing. I’ll be numb to the pain. I won’t feel like I’m dying inside. Like my heart has been ripped from chest, thrown to the ground, and stomped on.
I tug the glass to my lips and gulp.
“There’s more where that came from,” Grandma Betty promises, taking a seat at the kitchen table to join me.
“God, I love you, Grandma Betty.”
“You must be a lightweight if you’re already professing your love for everyone in your sightline after a single sip.”
“I mean it.” I reach for her hand across the table and squeeze. “And let’s be honest. There’s enough tequila in this cup to knock out a linebacker.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy,” Grandma Betty says with a headshake. “I think he’s in his own way. Might always be, I’m afraid.”
I know what happened between Ben and me this weekend was more than lust. I know there was a reason he wouldn’t kiss me. That he kept things from becoming too intimate. He was holding back. I only wish I knew why. At least having that closure would help me put this all behind me when I move on.
“I’m going to take the job,” I say to Grandma Betty. “The one in Anchorage. You should come with me.”
“I’ll support you whatever you decide, dear. But my home is here.” She stands up and returns to the blender.
“I’m not done with this one yet.”
“I feel left out.”
My laughter feels both soothing and hollow as it’s drowned out by the blender. My heart aches in ways I never thought it could. Never mind that Ben left me on the doorstep with tears streaming down my cheeks only an hour ago. It feels as though a lifetime has passed since that dagger pierced my heart.
Together, we drink our margaritas. And then we drink a couple more.
I’ll deal with reality tomorrow.