I repeat it over and over.
I tell myself:
So far, so good.
So far, so good.
So far, so good.
Sue Ellen will be home soon. We’ll go to the party. There’s nothing to worry about.
I take a shower, washing off the thick coating of sweat and coffee grinds and chemical cleaning products and food smells from my day at work. I scrub my body till the skin is red and swollen. I’m using one of those loofah-mitt things—a habit I picked up from Zelda. Whenever we took showers together, she would meticulously scour every inch of my body with a coarse, bristled glove—scrubbing till my dead skin cells had all been washed away completely. Then she would start in on herself. For me, having her take possession of my body like that was the most I could possibly ask for.
But I am alone here in the shower, scrubbing my own body, having to exist for myself and no one else. ’Cause as much as I might try to re-create things with Sue Ellen, I don’t know, it’s just never gonna be the same. I’m on my own now. I’ve gotta find some reason to serve myself. But, the difference is, Zelda deserved my love and devotion. Me? Well, I’m grateful I’m drinking again to get me through all this. So you’re damn right I make myself a martini to drink while I’m getting dressed—even if it’s kinda funky mixed with the toothpaste taste that’s left over in my mouth. I mean, I drink it.
When Sue Ellen gets home, she immediately comes to give me a kiss, inhaling loudly through her nose as she swoops in, no doubt trying to smell hints of alcohol on my breath. Obviously she does.
“Have you started drinking already?” she asks, sounding not pleased at all. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
I laugh kinda defensively. I mean, those are basically the first words she’s said to me all day.
“Hey, chill, girl, it’s okay. I made a drink just now when I got outta the shower. It’s not a big deal. I was anxious is all… about having to be around a bunch of people I don’t know. Anyway, I missed you so bad all day. Don’t be mad at me. I’m happy to see you.”
She glares at me defiantly for a good minute.
“Come on,” I try again. “I love you. We’re gonna have fun tonight, right?”
I start messing around, poking her and stuff, saying, “Right? Right? Right?”
She finally laughs, and then I know we’re okay.
“I love you,” I tell her. “Okay?”
Her mouth gives in to a smile, and she says she loves me, too.
“All right, then, don’t worry. Why don’t you go get dressed? Come on, I’ll roll a joint for us.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Her face goes all flushed and angry-looking.
“No, Nic, no. I don’t wanna smoke, and I don’t want you smoking, either.”
I hold both hands up like I’m being threatened with a gun, or something. “Okay, okay. I thought you wanted to, that’s all. I don’t care one way or the other.”
I’m not sure whether she believes that, but it’s obviously not the truth.
“Seriously, Nic,” she says. “You’re kinda freaking me out. I mean, you sound all, I don’t know, obsessed.”
I laugh that off. “Shit, Sue Ellen, stop worrying so much. You’re really making something outta nothing, you know?”
She turns abruptly and walks off to the bedroom. “Yeah, well, I hope so,” she says, more to herself than to me.
I tell her I’m going outside for a cigarette.
Obviously I bring the bowl with me in my pocket and steal a few hits off it so she won’t know. Then I really do go on and smoke a cigarette to help cover up the smell.
When I get back inside, she seems chilled out some and lets me kiss her.
I put my arm around her waist and hold her to me while we walk the few blocks to the party—the sun mostly set over the trees and houses—the night air cooler than it’s been in a long-ass time.
At first, you know, I mostly just kept to myself at the party/cookout thing. Sue Ellen introduced me to her boss, a girl around my age named Kelly, and a bunch of the other kids she works with. They were mostly all fucking hipsters, like everyone else from the goddamn art school. But still, I mean, they seemed nice enough. I just didn’t know what to talk to anybody about, so I sat outside in a folding chair, sort of half listening to people’s conversations. Actually, I woulda probably gone ahead and walked back home if Kelly’s boyfriend, Russell, hadn’t come over right then and sat down next to me, reaching one hand out to shake mine while balancing a heaping plate of food in the other.
“Hey, man,” he says, his voice real baritone and, uh, Southern. “You’re Nic, right? It’s nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand. “Yeah, you too. Thanks for having us over and cooking and everything.”
He laughs deep at that. “No problem, man. I got that big-mama grill from my folks last year, so any excuse to fire ’er up is good by me. Besides, this is a good group of kids. And I like most everyone Kelly works with. I’ll tell you the truth, though, I’ve always had a special soft spot for Sue Ellen, so I’m real glad she’s got a good guy in her life.”
I grind the toe of my sneaker into the dirt, saying, “I think ‘good guy’ is arguable.”
He laughs again. “Nah, I can tell. And I really do mean that. Sue Ellen seems real happy, Nic, and I
