She has more trouble finding the straw this time.
I hold back my smile, noticing both sets of customers are headed for the bar. I wander past her to meet them.
“We’re closing out our tabs,” one says.
I take a minute to run their tickets. By the time they’ve all left, Marietta has plopped down onto an upturned bucket behind the bar, her glass empty again.
I walk up to her. “You okay?”
She tries to get up, almost falls, and I grab at her to keep her steady.
“Why did this happen so fast?” she asks. “Betz can drink ten whiskeys and be fine.”
I take the empty glass from her hand and set it next to the register. “Betz has a lot of years of practice.”
“Well, I’m getting started!” Marietta says. “Tonight is the first night of my new alcohol tolerance.” She aims a finger toward the sky, but instead knocks herself off balance, and I have to catch her again.
She falls against me. “You’re strong,” she says. “I like strong people.”
“Do you?”
“Notice I didn’t say strong men. Strong women are good, too.”
“You like women?”
She smacks my arm. “No, silly! I mean, I do, as best girlfriends. But I don’t think I want to lick a cooter.”
Okaaaaay, time to sober her up. “Let’s go sit somewhere,” I say.
“But I like it back here. I feel important.” She hangs on to me and looks out over the bar. “I’m not just a customer.” She lifts her chin to peer up at me. “I’m part of the place. Part of your world. With you.”
I look down at her face. Her blue eyes watch me.
“I’m glad you’re coming here on Wednesdays,” I say.
“You are?” Her face lights up. “So you like me, at least a little bit?”
I swallow. “I do.”
She’s so close. Her mouth is inches from mine. Her body is pressed against me.
There’s no one here.
Her breath eases along my chin. She doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere, so we stay there, close together.
“I remember my first kiss,” she says, and that tells me she’s thinking about it.
“Do you?”
“Mmm hmm. I was in eighth grade. We were on a class trip, and we were riding the bus after dark on the way back.”
“On a school bus?”
“Yeah. I was into public displays of affection from way back.” She pokes my chest and laughs. “I was sitting with my friend Amy, but she wanted to sit with Jerry, who was across the aisle from us. So I switched with him.”
“That’s a good friend.”
“I know, right!” She lifts her chin higher, and her hair falls back, brushing my arm where I hang on to her waist. “So I ended up sitting next to Daryl.”
