Page 32 of Here You Are

“What will you have?” said a scraggly old man, working the bar.

“Do you have a drink menu?” I asked, like a total dipshit.

“No. We have bottles of liquor that you can look at with your eyes to make a decision. If that’s not your cup of tea, we have beer taps next to them to guide your selection. If you want something other than that, you’re in the wrong establishment.”

“I’ll just have a light beer.”

“Emilia, your usual?” asked the bartender.

“Of course, extra dirty,” she replied, giving me a shoulder nudge and raising her eyebrows at her dirty joke.

“One light beer and one gin martini, extra dirty, coming right up.”

“Dang, Emilia. A martini? Am I going to have to carry you to bed after this?”

Emilia chuckled and said, “Oh no, honey. I’m going to get one of the men in here to carry me to their bed. I suggest you do the same.”

Needless to say, Emilia did not need a ride home from the bar that night. I drove home by myself and went to my own bed—alone.

When I was growing up, my parents subscribed to a Christian movie mailing service. We would get new VHS tapes every month that taught lessons on Christian values and morals with some pretty intense plotlines. One of my favorites had an old lady who kept falling down. They called her The Widow Jenkins. ”Oh, no! The Widow Jenkins! She fell down again!” Kind of excited to have my own Widow Jenkins.

I have also met my next-door neighbors, Rod and Holly Thompson. They are both retired and are always out on their porch swing, sipping unknown beverages from double-walled insulated cups. They are out there, basically all day, every day, just rockin’ and sippin’. My first run-in with Holly was an epic disaster, in which I basically acted like a drug dealer.

I was walking out to get the mail when Holly hollered at me.

“Hey, sweetie!” she shouted in a gravelly smoker’s voice. “Come over here and introduce yourself. If I walk over there, you’ll be back in the house by the time I get my old ass moving in that direction!”

I groaned inwardly because you saw what happened when I tried to be neighborly and check on someone recently. I ended up at the cemetery and a dive bar, where I learned of the mating rituals of the old and drunk.

I plastered a smile on my face and shouted back, “Be right there!”

I ran into my house because I was going to need a beverage to sit on the porch. I grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses and headed over.

As I made my way up the sidewalk and onto the porch, I noted that her husband had reappeared on the porch swing. Must have taken a potty break.

“Hi there, I’m Cassie.”

“Oh, we know who you are. Emilia Jenkins came over and told us about you guys getting drunk and picking up men together. I’m Holly, and this is my husband, Rod.”

This brought my walk up the steps to a dead stop.

“I would like to clarify that only one of us got drunk, and only one of us picked up a man.”

“Mmhmm. She said you were kind of a prude. But that woman talks a lot, and sometimes I have to tune her out, so I may have missed some important facts. Have a seat. Take a load off.”

After I took a seat, I got to the business of opening my screw-off-top wine because I didn’t want to go to the effort of bringing a bottle opener with me, as well.

“I’m sorry, I only grabbed two glasses since you weren’t out here before, Rod.” I started to pour a glass and said, “I can go grab another one if you would both like a glass.”

“Oh no, honey. We’re good.” Holly replied.

“Are you sure? I mean, I can drink a whole bottle of wine by myself easily, but I’d love to share.”

She raised her tumbler and said, “I’m good with this, thanks, dear.”

“Rod?”

“No thanks, I’m good as well.”