by R. S. Medina
"Babe, try not to stress too much. How have you been sleeping?" I ask him. Finn just nods. That wasn't a yes or no question, but whatever. If he doesn't want to talk about it, I've learned better than to push. Pushing just makes it worse. He will work through it in his own time. I wish he would give counseling another try, though. I think it would help him process some of his emotions. But he's staunchly opposed to counseling.
We run out of things to talk about, so Finn turns on some music, and I just listen to the song and stare out the window at the passing scenery and cars on the way to dinner. I guess running out of things to talk about is what happens when you've been married for nearly seven years and things aren't going well.
When we pull into the hotel where the dinner is being hosted, I pull on my heels, and a valet opens my door and helps me out of the car by taking my hand. Finn gets out and hands the valet his keys, and then puts his hand on my lower back and guides me to the entrance of the building. I'm shocked by his touch. He doesn't usually touch me this much.
The hotel is gorgeous, and I promise myself if I'm ever in a position to have a mansion, I am totally finding a chandelier like the one they have hanging in their lobby. It is gorgeous, and the setting sun catches the crystals and casts beautiful rays of rainbow colored light all over the lobby. We follow the crowd and are led to where the dinner is being hosted.
Our firm outdid themselves. I don't know what exactly I expected, but the event is super classy. The centerpieces on the table are wonderful. Everyone is chatting and laughing and drinking. And the best part—there's an open bar.
Finn and I slowly make our way to the bar, weaving our way around guests. There are more people here than I anticipated. I order a glass of whatever white wine they're serving, and Finn orders a Shiner bock beer in a bottle. Classy.
I feel so out of place. I see some of my coworkers, but they're talking with people I don't know. I stop and say hi to a few of them and make small talk and introduce Finn. A lot of people at the firm have never met Finn.
As quickly as possible without appearing rude, I make an excuse and Finn and I start searching for our place cards so we can sit down at a table and be out of the way. I thank God when I see someone had the decency to sit Amber at my table. Amber is the extrovert to my introvert, and she will make this night more bearable. She's never met a stranger, and I've never met someone who doesn't love Amber. Even my sour, downer of a husband loves Amber, and he doesn't like anyone.
When she shows up, I wave her over so she knows where we are, and when she spots us, she waves and points at the bar to indicate that she's going to get a drink.
I've only had a glass so far, but I'm already feeling a little buzz. I missed lunch today, so I haven't eaten anything for the alcohol to soak up. Is it trashy to be drunk at a work function? Because I totally don't care. A waitress comes by and fills my wine glass with more white wine. Tonight is going to be interesting.
Amber makes her way to our table with a glass of red wine in her hand. She sees her name card next to mine and Finn's, and she lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. If I had to sit with anyone else, I think I might die," she exaggerates. I laugh.
"I was just thinking the same thing," I tell her, twisting one of my earrings in my ear uncomfortably. I hate social gatherings like this.
She turns to Finn and gives him her friendliest smile. "Hi, Finn! It's so good to see you," she says over the soft murmur of people talking, and puts her hand out for him to shake. He takes it. She looks tiny compared to his tall frame and build.
"Great," he responds, smiling back at her, and shaking her hand.
She sits down and starts putting her cloth napkin in her lap and smoothing it out. She wasn't kidding – her dress is gorgeous. It's a deep plum purple, and it looks great on her skin tone. The lace is delicate and flattering on her. "So, Blair tells me that you're job hunting. How's that going?" she asks. I see the stressed look cross his face again, but he quickly covers it up.
"So, so. I haven't gotten a whole lot of responses, but I'm hoping something will pan out soon," he tells her, staying much more hopeful than usual. He's trying to keep things light. I appreciate his effort.
We make more small talk, dinner starts, and the food is excellent. Finn and I both ordered the filet mignon, and it was so freaking good. The wine keeps coming, and I don't turn it down. Amber and I talk about office gossip and giggle like girls in high school. And by the end of the night, I am beyond drunk, and attempting to act sober. Luckily, so is just about everyone else, so I'm sure no one else will notice.
We are informed that there is an after-dinner party down the hall from where the dinner was held, and Finn says he wants to stop by for a little bit before we head home to get Olivia like the old couple that we are now. I agree.
There are more drinks and laughter. There is a dance floor, and some brave people are dancing, but not many. Most people are standing in small groups talking and throwing back drinks in the classiest way possible. I'm surprised I'm having this much fun at such a stuffy event. I'm sure it's the alcohol and Finn and Amber.
I hear the familiar tune of a song, and memories come flooding back. My face instantly heats, and I swear I can feel myself blushing down to my toes.
"Hey, do you remember...?" Finn starts asking, smiling.
"Yes, I remember!" I say, cutting him off. "And I'm still embarrassed about it," I tell him.
Like the true introvert I am, I hate dancing, with a passion. I'm a white girl at heart. I have no rhythm. But our one and only first dance, other than our wedding reception, was to "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra. Finn made me dance with him, and it embarrassed me so badly. It was awful and out of character for me, but Finn loves the memory. He likes making me blush.
He puts his hand out to me. "Let's dance, for old time's sake. It's our song," he says persuasively, with a huge smile. I stare at him dumbfounded, not sure what to do. I instantly panic at the thought of dancing. Is he nuts? Where is my husband, and what has this guy done with him? But before I can utter a refusal, Finn has my tiny hand in his huge, calloused hand, and is gently tugging me onto the dance floor. And it must be all the alcohol in my system because I don't put up too much of a fight, and I join him.
I let Finn put his arms around me, and I let him lead us. I can't dance, but I don't care. And I don't even care if anyone is looking at us, or if we look ridiculous like I'm sure we do, because this is our song, and moments like these are few and far between for us lately.
I can feel Finn humming along in his chest with the song. I lean my head against his hard, sculpted chest and hear his heartbeat and feel the vibration from his humming. I start quietly singing along as well.
We sway to the music, and I'm so lost in the moment, I forget that we hate each other more often than not lately. I forget that Finn hasn't found a job and we won't be able to afford much. I forget that we want to separate or divorce. I forget that Finn thinks I'm unattractive. And we are like we used to be - in love, happy, and in our little happy world.
In an uncharacteristic display of public affection, Finn kisses my forehead when the song comes to a close. We part and walk back to where we were, hand in hand. Amber was watching our drinks for us, but her back is turned, and she's talking to one of the coworkers she's had a crush on since she started back in April. Finn and I both down the rest of our respective drinks, and I put my hand on Amber's back to get her attention.
She turns to me, and I lean in to tell her a quick goodbye. She looks disappointed that we are leaving, but not too much now that she's flirting with the prospective boy toy. She kisses me on the cheek and tells us to drive safely. She waves to Finn and turns to continue the conversation with the cute guy who's name I can't remember.
Finn and I walk to the car, and I ask him if he had fun.
"Surprisingly, I did," he admitted. "I'm glad I came after all." He opens the lobby door for me, and the chilly air hits my skin. It giv
es me goose pimples and sends a shiver down my back. Finn notices and takes off his suit jacket and puts it over my shoulders to keep me warm while he looks for his valet ticket.
"Yeah, me too," I tell him. "Thank you for the jacket," I say. I'm shocked at his small act of kindness toward me. Maybe a date night was all we needed to reset ourselves and get back to normal?
"Are you good to drive?" I whisper to him. Because I'm totally not ok to drive. "We can get a hotel for the night. I'm sure Chazz will understand," I assure Finn, putting my hand on his shoulder gently.
"Yeah, I'm good," Finn assures me, looking straight ahead. I'm not sure how much Finn has had to drink. I only saw him have two. He usually drinks more than that, but sometimes when he drinks the PTSD gets worse. I'm glad he paced himself tonight. Too bad I didn't and I lost count of how many drinks I had. The waiter kept refilling my glass. I'll have to ask Amber if she knows what kind of wine they were serving because it was good.
The valet pulls our car around, and Finn even opens the car door for me. I slide in and smile at him as sweetly as I can and thank him so he knows I mean it. I'm so surprised at his turn around in behavior. He walks around the car, and I pull my phone out to call Chazz, but I see Tristan texted. I ignore his texts for now and dial Chazz.
She picks up after the third ring.
"Hey, how was the dinner?" Chazz asks.
"Great, I had a wonderful time," I admit. "How was Livy?" I ask, praying she wasn't too difficult for her aunt. Finn starts pulling the car out and starts heading home.
"She was a breeze," Chazz confirms. I let out a sigh of relief. "I brought her home so she could go to sleep in her crib, and she went down super easy. She was a piece of cake," Chazz says. Finn is silently listening to my one side of the conversation. I hold my hand out to him, hoping we can hold hands like we used to when we were in the car. He doesn't take it, so I reach out and grab his and intertwine our fingers together.
"Good, I'm happy to hear that," I tell her. "We are heading home, so we will see you soon." Finn unhooks our hands and puts both on the steering wheel, and I'm a little hurt. Whatever, though. Maybe he just needs to focus on driving. It is kind of late, after all.
"All right, drive safely," Chazz says. "Love you." I put my phone and hands in my lap, and silently watch the headlights chase away the darkness on the road and the yellow road stripes race by. It makes me kind of dizzy. Finn turns up the radio, and he's put on his favorite: heavy metal. I can usually listen to most of it, but I find this band to be obnoxious. I can't understand anything. I don't say anything though because I don't want to ruin a good night.
When Finn drops me off at my car, I let him know Olivia is already home, and he tells me he will meet me at home. He seems a little sour, but I'm not sure if it's just me or if I'm imagining it or what. We were having such a good night. And I don't want to make it any worse. I let him leave, and leave he does. Quickly. But I am still much too drunk to drive.
Past
Within a couple of weeks of requesting to be redeployed, I'm back on a military flight to Afghanistan. It feels cramped with all the other Marines in their uniforms, buckled into their seats, but I feel relieved to be going back. The anticipation is heavy in the air. I'm ready.
Blair was disappointed that I had to leave again so soon, especially after what happened last time— my "accident." She doesn't know that I requested this. She thinks I didn't have a choice, and I didn't correct her. It's better this way. She doesn't understand the guilt and the anger harvesting beneath this face, in my body, and my blood. The hate in my heart.
I miss her.
But it should have been me that day.
Present
I beat Blair home and walk inside to let Chazz know that she can head home. I loosen up my tie as I walk through the front door.
Chazz is on the couch watching Netflix and playing on her phone. She looks up and smiles.
"How was it?" she asks. "Did you have a good time?"
I nod. "Yeah, it was fun. Dinner was delicious," I tell her. I sit down next to her on the couch and prop my feet up.
"I'm glad you had a good time," she says. "Where is Blair?"
"She had to get her car and drive it home," I tell Chazz. "She'll be here in a minute. How was Olivia?" I ask, kicking off my shoes and letting them fall wherever they land.
"She was good," Chazz says. "She's asleep in her crib."
"Thank you for watching her for us," I say.
"She was no problem," Chazz says, shrugging off my thanks. Are you coming to dinner this weekend?"
"Yeah," I nod. "We'll be there."
"Good," Chazz says, standing up. "I'm going to get home, but I'll see you at Dad's." I stand up to give her a hug and walk her to the door.
When she leaves, I get out of my monkey suit and throw on my favorite sweats. I walk to the fridge and grab a beer and pop the top, throwing the cap in the garbage. The first swig of beer in a new bottle is always my favorite.
I check my phone. I wonder where Blair is. I'm sure if she had a problem, she'd call. I shrug it off.
I open the door to Olivia's room and check on her. She's sleeping peacefully and looks so angelic. I walk to the side of her crib and reach down to touch one of her blonde curls. She gets her blonde hair from me. When I was little my hair was blonde. I'm sure hers will darken up as she gets older. Olivia stirs a little, so I leave so she can sleep. I close the door carefully behind me, making sure to make as little noise as possible.
I go to the living room and power on the Xbox and finish my first beer. Time for a second beer.
Present
I let myself into my work building, and it feels a little creepy. I try not to focus on the dark shadows in the corner of the room, or how unsettling it is to be here at night, alone, and how empty it feels without people in their offices. I head straight to the bathroom. When you have to pee when you're drunk, it's all over. At least I'm sober enough to recognize that I'm not walking in a straight line down the hallway, and I'm swerving.
As I'm sitting on the toilet, peeing and drunkenly trying to convince myself that I'm not that drunk, Tristan texts me.
Tristan: how was your night, pretty girl?
Me: good. I'm peeing.
Tristan: ok...?
Me: I may or may not be a little inebriated.
Tristan: oh god, am I meeting Drunk Blair?
Me: Possibly. I'm drunk peeing. That's a thing.
Tristan: how much did you have to drink?
Me: All the free wine. It just kept coming!
I snap Tristan a picture of me drunk peeing on the toilet with a huge, goofy smile and a thumbs up and send it to him on Snapchat. I caption it, "Told you, drunk peeing." I think I'm hilarious. I chuckle out loud to myself.
I finish using the bathroom, wash my hands and walk back out into the dark hallway. Drunk Blair is hygienic. This time I take a deep breath and straighten up and try very carefully to make sure I'm walking in a straight line. I bump into the wall. Can I walk in a straight line when I'm sober? I can't remember. Who cares. I'm not that drunk, I swear.
I lock the office and find my car keys. I walk across the parking lot, and my car is the only one here. I sit in the driver's seat and turn the car on and crank up the air conditioning.
Tristan: You're a mess, Blair. What the fuck is wrong with you? LOL. That picture is ridiculous.
Me: I know.
I sync my phone up to the Bluetooth on the car and try to find something to listen to on Spotify. I'm at a loss, so I go to my favorite band.
Me: what's your favorite band?
Tristan: Lamb of God. You?
Me: Lamb of God is good, but if I had to pick a favorite band, it would be Brand New.
Tristan: I've never heard of them.
Me: Oh. My. God. Go listen to them right now.
Tristan: Give me a song to listen to.
Me: Ok listen to "Okay, I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don't"
I put the song
on and imagine listening to it with Tristan in the car. Brand New has always been my favorite. I love their songs. I close my eyes and just listen until I hear the music fade because of a notification on my phone. I know he didn't even listen to the whole song. There's no way.
Tristan: I don't like his voice.
Me: That is blasphemous!
Tristan: Ok, I've listened to your song. Now you have to listen to one of mine. Listen to Middle Fingers Up By Attila.
I interrupt my song to listen to his. I'm sure I've heard it before because Finn listens to Attila, but I give Tristan the courtesy of listening to the whole thing— unlike him. I heard somewhere that you can tell a lot about a person by the kind of songs and music they listen to, same with books. But I'm not getting anything from Tristan's music picks other than the fact that he likes metal music.
Me: I've heard this song. Good song. I like Attila. But it's my turn again. Listen to "Never Saw It Coming" by Tiger Jaw.
I put the song on and sing along with it by myself in the car. He takes the time to listen to this one.
Tristan: I don't like his voice either... but I like the song, Blair. You listen to some depressing music, though. Are you ok?
I smile. That makes me happy. I felt like he would like that song. It speaks to both of us.
Me: Yeah, I just like the music. But I'm glad you like the song. You listen to some angry shit. Are you ok? LOL
Tristan: Yes, I'm fine, smart ass.
I put the phone down, and decide that I've waited as long as I'm going to wait. I'm still a little drunk, but I feel like I'm good to go. I pull out of the parking lot and head home, driving extra carefully. My phone goes off in the passenger seat next to me, and it's a text from Tristan. I know I'm not supposed to text and drive, but it's my worst habit.
Tristan: What are you doing, drunk ass?
Me: driving home.
