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Tonya
Tonya stared at the drink on the coffee table. Most of her had no intention of touching it. But there was one small voice telling her that she should. And that voice was growing louder with each passing second. Oh, who cares? It will make you feel better. Fiona’s drinking it, and she’s not a bad person. She’s not drunk. It’s just one drink. It will help you relax. Haven’t you earned a few minutes of relaxation? And just think of how horrified Roy would be if he found out you had a drink with Fiona!
“Do you want me to take it now?” Fiona’s glass was still mostly full, but apparently, she could see the struggle.
Tonya shook her head quickly. “I’m fine.”
Fiona chuckled. “I know you are. I just don’t want to lead you into the darkness.”
Suddenly, she was desperate to show Fiona that her beverage choice was not darkness. She quickly reached out and took the wet glass. “No, no, you’re not.” She looked around the dark room, trying to find something else to talk about. She ran her free hand through her daughter’s hair. “Thanks for letting Emma stay here. She really didn’t want to be anywhere near her dad.”
“I don’t think he kept you around to keep his job.”
She looked up. “What?”
“You said the only reason Roy was keeping you around was to keep his job. I don’t think that’s true. I think that, now that everything’s falling apart, he’s going to grasp at the only thing that gives him pleasure, and that’s the other woman.”
Tonya tried to process that. “Doesn’t that amount to the same thing?”
Fiona shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. One is more insulting than the other, I think.”
Tonya didn’t know which theory was the more insulting, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to figure it out. “Either way, my pastor husband just kicked me out of my house.”
“The house that he is also being kicked out of. He is feeling powerless, and so he wanted to make someone else feel powerless. Now he’s going to go to the other woman and let her lick his wounds.”
Tonya noticed that this idea didn’t make her jealous. Disgusted, yes, but not jealous. “Maybe.” Without thinking, she took a drink. Then she looked down at her hand in surprise. Had she forgotten what was in the glass? She winced, but then Fiona chuckled, so Tonya tried to hide the wince—too late. “It tastes a little like fire.” But the creamy aftertaste was lovely. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, waiting to feel whatever it was that alcohol made one feel.
She felt nothing.
“It’s the champagne of Maine!” Fiona said in a ridiculous voice, and Tonya looked up to see her lifting her glass into the air and wearing an equally ridiculous expression.
“Is it? I didn’t know.” She took another tentative sip, and then looked at Fiona. “Is it really, or did you just make that up?” Either way, it was pretty funny. If she’d made it up, Tonya was impressed.
Emma stirred, and a tremor of guilt traveled through Tonya. She put the glass back on the coffee table.
“I don’t think it’s the champagne of anything, but that was a joke back in the sixties. I used to drink actual champagne back then because I had things that I thought were worth celebrating, but my mother loved the coffee brandy when it first came out.” Her expression sobered. “She was not a problem drinker, nothing like that. She was a great mother in every sense. But she was also a sensitive soul, and I think a drink in the evening helped ease the hurts of the day.”
Tonya was desperate to discuss something more uplifting. “What were you celebrating?”
“What?” Fiona had gotten lost in a memory.
“What were you celebrating with the champagne?”
“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “Awards. Albums. Weddings. My wedding.” She gave Tonya a crooked smile. “I can commiserate with what you’re feeling right now, but I can also tell you that being a divorced woman isn’t so bad.”
Tonya wasn’t sure she should believe that, coming from a woman who was scared to go outside. The drink beckoned to Tonya again, and she picked it up and took a long drink before she could talk herself out of it. She told herself to stop feeling guilty. It wasn’t a sin to drink a single drink. Some Christians drank all the time. Not her family, of course, but some Christians. She started to feel warmer and more relaxed. She let out a long breath and tipped her head back again to enjoy it.
“You’re going to be all right,” Fiona said softly. “I know you don’t believe me, and that’s all right. But months or years from now, when you’re happy and at peace, remember that I predicted the future.” She laughed and took another drink.
And Tonya followed suit.
“You know, I’m not the only ex-performer in the room,” Fiona said.
Tonya looked at her, not understanding.
“You’ve been something of a performer too these last several years. And I’m thinking that you’re going to appreciate being able to retire from that gig.”
What was she talking about? She wasn’t a performer. Was she talking about the failed piano playing? “I never actually played in public—”
Fiona blew out a puff of air. “I’m not talking about the piano. I’m talking about being a pastor’s wife. All the smiling.” She waved her hand around. “All the greetings. All the weddings, the showers, the graduations, always having to show up and act excited.” She shook her head. “It must have given your mouth cramps, all that smiling.”
Tonya chuckled. “Yeah, actually. I never thought about it that way, but I did have to fake some of that joy.”
“Joy and peace. I’m sure things weren’t perfect in your life. And yet you acted like they were. You listened to other women’s problems and acted like you didn’t have any.” She said it all without an ounce of criticism.
“Yeah. Maybe.” She had never thought of it as acting. She’d just thought of it as looking put together. If she was going to help people, she had to be put together. No one in a mess wants to be helped by someone else in a mess.
“Maybe schmaybe. Well, congratulations. You don’t have to perform anymore. For anyone, ever.”
Tonya wasn’t sure this was good news. If she wasn’t a pastor’s wife, then who was she?
