Page 33 of Here You Are

“Well, I hope you have something boozy in those cups so I’m not drinking alone here!”

Holly gave me a look that looked like disappointment and sympathy rolled all into one, and as I was trying to decipher what that was supposed to mean, Rod interjected.

“Just lemonade for us. We don’t drink.”

“Oh, geez! Why not?” I, a girl who grew up in the Midwest, hadn’t ever encountered someone who didn’t drink.

Holly looked at me with a half-evil grin.

“Well, Cassie. If you must know, I’m an alcoholic. Rod isn’t, but he can take it or leave it, so he chooses to leave it.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you.”

“Believe me, I can handle it. I’ve been turning down drinks for thirty-three years now. You don’t want to know what happens if I have one drink.” She pauses, and it seems like I’m about to find out, despite her saying I don’t want to know. She is wrong, too. I do want to know. “Basically, one glass of wine, and I’ll be downtown giving out blow jobs for cash and crack. And I don’t stop until I’m in jail. It was all fun and games in the 90s, but a girl’s gotta grow up eventually.”

Holy shit. If there were a way to disappear into the bushes, I would. Instead, I gently set the wine bottle and glass down and casually slide them behind me.

Rod whaps her on the shoulder. “Holly, there has got to be a better way to approach this with new people. Thirty-three years, and you still have to add all of that additional information? Do I need to write you a script?”

“I can be sober and honest or a drunken liar. I choose sober and honest. And if you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best,” she responded. “I read that on the internet, and it really resonated with me. Anyways, I’m a friend of Bill’s. That means I’m in A.A., Alcoholics Anonymous. So if you see any bedraggled-looking weirdos walking up to the house, don’t panic; it’s usually people that I'm sponsoring. And I don’t care if you drink your wine, just don’t leave me the leftovers.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t. Again, so sorry. I didn’t really mean what I said about drinking the whole bottle, either. I don’t have a drinking problem, although I’m afraid I made it sound like I probably do.”

“Also, saying you don’t have a drinking problem definitely makes it sound like you do. I’m not going to be shocked by anyone drinking a whole bottle of wine by themselves. If you can do it and stay off the 10 o’clock news, you’re doing just fine in my book. And I would know; I’m an expert.”

“I think I'll go with Rod’s method and just stick to water during our visits.”

“Whatever you want, honey. So, tell me about the men you and Emilia picked up. Don’t leave out any details. Gossip is the only vice I have left.”

Chapter 13

April 2017

My whole life has been an internal battle of forcing myself to go out into the world rather than sink into an introverted lifestyle. It seems like every time I go outside my house, one of my septuagenarian neighbors tries to use me for entertainment purposes. I’ve had to get up earlier to go for runs to account for mingling time when I return. Holly mostly wants to talk shit about people in the neighborhood, which I can get down with. She told me that being a sponsor in A.A. gave her the superpower to sit silently while people divulge all of their secrets.

Last night, I went outside to breathe some fresh air after a long day at the home office. I was outside for less than twenty seconds, and Holly had run down her porch steps and speed-walked over to my driveway, whisper-yelling my name.

“Cassieeeee! You will not believe what I learned today while you were at work.” She came to a stop, way too close to me, definitely in my personal space bubble. I took one casual step backward and mentally prepared myself for what horrifying fact I was going to learn about a neighbor.

“You have my attention. I’m a nervous but willing participant.”

“You know the Ericksons, next door to us?”

“I haven’t ever talked to them, but I know that there are people who live in the house on the other side of you.”

“Good enough. So, Sheila and Jay. They are retired, of course, and there have been rumors going around the block that they might be engaging in extracurricular activities with other married couples. There are always different cars over there, and often overnight. The first thing that tipped off Toni, from across the street, was seeing the owner of the local gentleman’s club and a male partner walking up to their house.

“I don’t think that just because someone owns a strip club, they are automatically a swinger,” I replied.

“Well, I didn’t either. But Elma, at the grocery store, goes to the same church as they do. They have reportedly been pretty standoffish during fellowship, except for with one couple who have also been seen having overnight stays at their house. I don’t know them, but their names are Nancy and Gary.”

“Okay. You got me on the sleepovers being a strange activity for people of their age.”

“That’s what we were saying. So now, the church has been working on its directory. Elma is good friends with Rose, who has been collecting pictures for the directory. The congregation was supposed to send family pictures to Rose, who is working with the printer. Well, yesterday, she was at the church office working on it. And a picture came through. You will not believe what it was.”

“What was it?” I asked, genuinely curious how adult sleepovers and church directory pictures are related, but I am trusting her process. Sometimes you have to run a mile to get a block, as they say.

“It was a very close-up picture of an unknown man’s whopper.”