“Those cheeky little devils sure love you,” Bev said, taking out my homemade Bloody Mary mix and grabbing two tall glasses from the cabinet beside the fridge. She poured a healthy amount of vodka before adding ice and the mix. One puppy snuggled between my crossed legs, while the other kept jumping toward my face, attempting to lick my neck.
“The feeling is mutual,” I cooed, rubbing Tito’s belly. I could tell it was Tito from the brindle coloring around his cute little face.
Perhaps I could convince Bev to let me stay on the floor for brunch and play with the puppies. My contribution to the conversation wouldn’t be missed, and these furballs, at least, were grateful for the attention.
“So what’s the matter?” Bev said, bending down to hand me a drink.
I stared at the beverage, deflecting her question while noticing that she’d added a pickled okra and green olive stuffedwith cheese to the glass. The mix tasted perfect—just the right amount of spice and tartness to mask the burn of the vodka.
“Things are fine, I guess. Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?” After taking another large gulp of the drink, I shrugged and leaned up, careful not to jostle the puppy on my lap as I set the glass on the dining room table behind me. My back rested against a dining room chair, and I wiggled, trying to get comfortable.
“Things are not fine,” she said, sitting beside me and stretching her legs in front of her. “You came over with slippers on and are now sitting on my dining room floor.”
“Oh, my God. I can’t catch a break,” I said, dropping my head to my chest and taking in my appearance. My clothes were fine and my makeup was done, but in my haste to get out of the house before I cried or screamed, my fuzzy slippers didn’t make the cut. “This is so embarrassing. Obviously, I’m in no condition to meet your daughters.”
“Nonsense. Now this was twenty years ago, mind you, but I remember the stress of caring for a parent. Especially a prickly one like your dad. Are things okay over there?”
“No. Yes. Ugh,” I said, knocking my head gently against the back of the chair.
“Get your drink and let’s talk.”
I nodded, thankful that the puppies had migrated to Bev’s lap, and retrieved my beverage. The condensation from the glass cooled my hand, and I removed the sword holding the olive and okra, eating both as I gathered my whirling thoughts.
“Things are fine at home.”
Bev raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips but didn’t refute my statement.
“Okay. Yes. My father can be a difficult,difficultman, and things have been strained.”
“Hmm.” She stirred the straw in her drink and took a sip as Port settled herself onto her lap, resting her head on Bev’s knee and yawning. Tito followed, and she stroked their backs and smiled as they snuggled against her.
“My divorce is finalized, which is great, but my ex took the opportunity of confirming it to drop a bombshell on me.”
“Well, shit. We’re going to need more vodka. Be a dear and grab the bottle, Summer, and tell me more.”
“Right.” I stood and stumbled to the kitchen, rotating my left ankle that had fallen asleep, and retrieved the bottle from the counter. “In case you were wondering, the atomic explosion detonating between my eyeballs was not that he knocked up his secretary, or that they’re getting married. That would be too simple. It’s that he’s going after an inheritance from an aunt I didn’t even know I had.”
“Oh, honey.”
I slumped back to the ground, setting the vodka on the hardwood floor. More alcohol sounded about as appealing as a lobotomy, and I pushed the liter away as she scooted closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I wanted to cry or scream or break something, but the anger wouldn’t come. Instead, numbness spread through my chest, hardening myself against anything that could do me more harm.
“That, mixed with the guilt over not giving my work the dedication it needs, not taking care of Dad the way I should, and not giving my sisters sufficient updates on his progress has caused—”
I exhaled, tapping each finger to my thumb as I searched for a word to describe my emotional implosion, but my mind remained blissfully blank.
“Drama,” Bev finished my sentence, and I nodded. “That is a lot to unpack.”
The last thing I needed was to go home and face my dad’s half-assed apologies, but staying here and trying to be a gracious guest sent a bolt of anxiety down my spine.
“I really should go.” I drew my legs to my chest, bracing my arms on the floor before standing and retrieving the vodka bottle. Port and Tito assumed it was playtime and jumped from Bev, circling my feet and licking the exposed skin of my ankles. “I think I need a double caffeinated, double cream, double sugar coffee, and then to wander around Target for an hour buying copious amounts of Halloween decorations on clearance.”
Bev laughed as I leaned down and stretched out my hand, helping her to stand. Before I could take a step back and apologize again for my behavior, she put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me in for a tight hug. For a second, I froze, my arms hanging by my sides and my fists clenched. But as Bev pulled me tighter, the numbness loosened in my chest, and I grasped onto her like she was my lifeline.
Perhaps, in that moment, she was.
A shadow loomed over the kitchen as the sliding glass door leading to the backyard opened with a click. I stiffened in her arms, and she squeezed me once more before leaning to the side and turning to look over her shoulder.
“Well, Maverick. What’s the verdict?” she said, reaching around to pick up my Bloody Mary and pushing it into my hands.
