Chapter 5 – GLENNA #3
I’m not against the idea. I feel super awkward and liquor can only improve the situation.
Birdy’s is one of those places that started out as one room with a bar, a dart board, and a pool table. There are still guys my dad’s age bellied up, nursing beers and watching the game, but somewhere along the line, Birdy’s got out of control.
They built another room with a dance floor, foosball, and a DJ booth.
Then a second bar surrounded by tables and big screen TVs.
Then the deck. Then another deck with an outdoor bar.
None of the additions are made of the same material.
Now that I’m inside, I see they weren’t built level with each other, either.
As various folk come over to say hi to Cash, I amuse myself by watching drunk people stumble as they miss the step up to one space and down into another.
It’s loud and dimly lit and even though it’s relatively early, there’s already plenty of yeehaws and woo hoos. The DJ is alternating between line dances and pop country. Some of the dancers are very serious—cowboy boots, hats, big-ass belt buckles, the whole nine.
“You want to dance?” Cash hollers across the table in-between visitors.
“No,” I holler back.
“Want another shot?” he asks.
“That is a weird thing to ask me, considering our recent history, but also, yes.” I fake a smile.
At this moment, if it were a competition, dates with Toby would be pulling into the lead. I felt out of place with him, too, but the overall ambiance was better.
I expect Cash to get up, but he waves his hand and a waitress emerges from the crowd. She bends close so she can hear his order, tossing her straightened hair off her neck so her ear is fully exposed. She rests her hand on his shoulder as she listens.
She has a lot to say about whatever he orders, and she finds it freaking hilarious.
I’m not jealous.
I feel stupid. I don’t know these people like he does. I don’t need to have an actual conversation, but I do exist. I am sitting right here. I feel like furniture.
It’s like high school only with liquor, so it’s a fraction more tolerable.
How long does a date last? An hour?
Finally, the waitress leaves. I’m about to ask Cash when he thinks we can wrap this up when a whole posse rolls up to our table. Cash actually stands. Now the high school flashback is complete. It’s Cash’s crew minus Brice Carroll.
There’s Logan Rolf, the douchebag.
Jaxson Schmidt, the guy with a tricked-out Honda Civic.
Ethan Wagner, the quiet one with nice hair.
Holden Foster, the smart one who went away for college. I guess he came back.
And Addison Lane, the girl.
They were the popular kids. Are they still? I don’t know when that sort of thing wears off.
They pull up chairs, settling in, talking all at the same time. Cash is smiling, at ease. He leans back and stretches out his legs.
I fiddle with an empty shot glass.
Cash’s friends are clumped around him, making a Venn diagram. They’re on one side, I’m on the other, and the table is the bit in the middle.
At least I have elbow room.
“I almost got him, man, I’m telling you,” Logan caws, slapping Cash’s back.
“You can’t kill Phat Thom, man,” Jaxson says. Beer droplets fly from his lips. He’s well on his way to toasted. “He’s a legend.”
“I’d cook him up right,” Logan answers. “I’d, like, tur-pig-goose-en him.”
“What the hell is that?” Holden asks.
“Like turducken, but Phat Thom’s so big, I’m gonna stuff him with a pig and then a goose and then a chicken.”
“Bullshit.” Jaxson seems genuinely perturbed. “There is no way you’re fitting that bird in a fryer.”
“Man, you don’t fry turducken. It’ll fall apart.” Holden also seems to have skin in this game.
Addison flags down another waitress. In no time, we get our shots, and a minute later, two pitchers of beer and a round of Jell-O shooters are delivered. Now there’s a table full of booze between me and the others.
I drink my tequila and help myself to a shooter. Vodka. It goes down easy.
I’m getting hot, and my tension is seeping away. I stop sucking in my gut and worrying about my posture and relax in the chair. I stretch my legs out, too. Even though the joint is getting progressively more crowded, I’ve got plenty of room.
I’m hungry.
Does this place have wings?
I could eat some wings.
“Glenna, you’ve seen him, right?” Cash asks out of nowhere.
I blink. Everyone is staring at me.
Who? I’d stopped listening.
“Phat Thom,” Addison says. There’s a note in her voice. I heard it enough from her crew in school. There was a silent “duh” at the end of that.
“Yeah.”
“You get any shots of him?” Cash leans forward. He’s trying to include me in the conversation. Yay.
“Nope.”
“Glenna has more luck getting shot than getting shots lately, right? Eh?” Logan grins and raises a hand for a high five. “What? Too soon?”
“Shut the fuck up, Rolf.” It’s Holden, not Cash, who says it. Cash is intent on me.
I pick up another shooter. “I don’t know. I’m good. Just keep ‘em coming,” I say and slurp it down.
The crew likes that. They burst into drunk-guy noises.
“Hell, yeah, Dobbs,” Jaxson says, grabbing a shooter and shoving another toward me. “Bottoms up.”
I oblige.
Cash is watching me with narrowed eyes like he’s doing math. Yes, I have definitely ingested an irresponsible amount of alcoholic gelatin in the past, oh, ten minutes. Yes, it hasn’t fully hit me yet, but it’s gonna, and there will be no coming back.
Even if I eat now.
I’m so hungry.
I want pizza. Deep dish. But good deep dish, not that chain garbage. The saddest thing about living in Stonecut County is the pizza situation. And also, no matter how old you get, there’s still a cool kid table.
“Glenna? You okay?” Cash’s brows are scrunched.
“Yup.”
“You think maybe you should slow down?”
“Nope.” I pop the “p.”
I should move somewhere else. Leave Stonecut.
I can’t. Dad needs me. And I don’t—won’t—think about if Dad wasn’t around.
And I don’t want to leave the mountain. The mountain is everything.
When I was a kid, it was background. Scenery. But then Mom died, and Dad fell into a major depression. There was a while there when I spent all my energy making sure no one knew how bad it was. After Dad dragged himself out of it, he bought me a new camera for my fourteenth birthday.
I’d always taken pictures, but this camera was different. It had a strap and a bag and a thick-ass instruction manual. It was professional.
And there was the mountain. Majestic and massive and a million miles from everything, but only an hour drive away. I had Dad drop me off at the Silver Gorge lot, and I spent whole days alone, hiking, taking pictures. No worries. No demands.
I found brooks and blackberry thickets. Tall trees grown together, their trunks split but their exposed roots still wound together like fingers. Inextricable.
I learned the names of birds and where they nest. I discovered where the black bears lived. I found minks and beavers and muskrats, and I studied their expressions, and because people sucked or couldn’t be bothered, I assigned them personalities.
Minks are the empaths, and they are really interested in you. They’ll guess your sign wrong, but you won’t correct them ‘cause they’re too damn charming.
Beavers are a little dopey, but they get shit done.
Muskrats are like beavers that have had a hard life and are barely holding on, but they’re not giving up, hell no.
Town was too small, but the mountain was big. I was alone both places, but on the mountain, it didn’t hurt. It healed.
I know there are other beautiful places in the world, but they aren’t mine. Stonecut Mountain is mine.
And now I’m getting depressed. Predictably, I’m a sad drunk.
Silver lining—I’m not a puker.
Lord, but it’s freaking loud in here. Cash is talking, and I’m not sure whether he’s talking to me or his friends. They’re joking with each other, laughing, having a good old time.
I have to pee.
I stand, and I only wobble the teeniest, tiniest bit.
Cash stands, too.
“Bathroom,” I shout, gesturing for him to sit back down. Then, I make my way very carefully toward the hall with the restrooms. I am extra careful to step down when the floor changes level.
I don’t realize Addison is following me until I get into the bathroom. The volume drops, and my ears ring. It’s a huge bathroom. It’s busy, but there’s no line.
“You okay?” Addison asks.
“Yup.” I head into a stall. Addison follows, standing in front. Her cute suede ankle boots with the tasseled zippers and block heels are visible under the door.
“You puking?” she calls louder than necessary.
“Nope.”
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Not when I’m peeing.”
She’s quiet for a minute, but I can still see her boots. “Cash asked me to come with you, you know. You don’t need to cop an attitude.”
I’m literally peeing. “Sorry,” I say.
I am not sober enough to fully grasp the subtext of what’s happening, but this is not a friendly interaction.
I hum so the sound of my pee isn’t so loud, finish, flush, and open the door. She’s still there. She doesn’t make way. She’s got her hip cocked.
I sigh. “Yes?”
“You’re a real bitch, you know that?”
“Okay.” I’m really not. I’m more of a grump. Maybe a grouch.
Her sculpted eyebrows rise very high. “You don’t even appreciate what he’s doing for you, do you?”
Did Cash tell everyone we’re fake dating? That defeats the purpose.
“Everyone knows he feels guilty. That’s the only reason he’s with you. He wants us all to be nice to you so everyone will stop hating your guts.” Her lips thin.
More high school flashbacks. This is not the first time I’ve been cornered in the women’s room by a cool girl who decided she’d like to take her bad day out on someone who sits with the dorks.
“Can I get past you to wash my hands?” I point past her to the sinks.
“Newsflash, Glenna. It’s not gonna work. You ruined your chances in this town when you messed with Coach Willis.”
Oh. She’s a Del Willis fan.
“All right.”