One of Daisy’s friends, I think her name is Chiara, appears with her arms full.
Two bottles of wine, three glasses dangling from her fingers. "Vino, yay," she calls out, laughing as she approaches, like she is bringing treasure from a quest.
"Here, let me help," I say, reaching out quickly before she drops something. She hands me the bottles, and I crouch to place them carefully on the ground beside the table.
She follows, laying down the glasses, and more hands join in from every direction.
They all start pouring wine.
And pouring.
And pouring.
And of course, pouring more. Naturally.
Why worry when you are not the one driving.
Just get absolutely wasted. Who cares. They lift the plastic cups up high, trying not to spill.
"Alla vita!"
"To the chaos," someone yells.
I smile, raise my glass with the rest, and take a sip. It is sweet. A little too sweet. I really like this vibe. Going out was definitely the right call.
My brain needed a rinse after yesterday’s little meltdown. The panic about Gio and the fact that I probablydefinitelylike him.
Here, I can forget. No Gio. No labels. No nothing. Just grilled meat, potatoes, and dancing.
Obviously I am not getting drunk, though. I do not want to push it to the edge. One glass, I tell myself.
Just to be part of it. Just enough to smile and laugh and toast without giving anyone a reason to push. As I set my glass down, one of Daisy’s friends leans in toward me.
"If you are worried about drinking, I can drive after," she says with a wink. "Seriously. Do not stress."
I shake my head, smiling politely. "No, it is not that." I pick up the glass again, lift it slightly.
"This is my first and last for the night. That is a promise."
One hour later
"GUYS, I AM VIBRATING LIKE A FUCKING DIVORCED UNCLE IN A NIGHTCLUB!!!" I shout breathless, but so far past the point of caring it feels like freedom.
Who even said getting drunk once in a while is bad??
It was not me.
This is amazing. I am having the time of my life. Everything is perfect. I have my arms wrapped around Daisy in the middle of a dancing circle with a bunch of drunk middle-aged strangers, and we are using every last bit of our physical and emotional strength to copy some traditional dance an old man tried to teach us.
That man smells like lemon. That is literally all I remember about him. I can feel sweat rolling down the back of my neck.
My face is probably RED like a TOMATO right now.
I can feel it. It is burning. My hair keeps bouncing and flying up every time we hop around like baby goats, and we are laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I cannot breathe after all this moving, I am actually going to die.
My arms feel like boiled spaghetti. Everyone around me is screaming and shouting and drinking and dancing.
When was the last time I felt this alive??
