8. Twenty Questions
Gia,Carla, and Matt passed the rest of the afternoon and evening on the patio, laughing, drinking, and reminiscing about the past decade that they’d been neighbors—and long before as friends in high school. The conversation flowed freely, and the level of awkwardness was minimal despite the dynamic of three instead of four. Several times, Gia caught Carla and Matt eying each other strangely, but she just chalked it up to lingering flirtation after their all-day “time together” or whatever.
“So, Gia, how’s the dating world treating you? Anyone pee in the pool?” Matt asked, chuckling at his own joke. He already knew the answer but did his best to feign ignorance to shift the subject to aid in achieving the desired outcomes of Project Gia.
Gia groaned. “More like pool water tainted with explosive diarrhea! I’m done with it. It’s a total disaster. The men only want one thing—and it’s not a long, fulfilling relationship, I can tell you that!”
“Nothing wrong with having a little fun here and there,” Matt responded, grinning as he elbowed Carla in the ribs. “Am I right?”
Carla rolled her eyes at her husband. “Matty, control yourself. Now is not the time. Our friend and neighbor is going through a rough patch.” She threw an arm over Gia’s shoulder. “It’s our responsibility to be there for her and to help her out… however we can.”
Gia couldn’t help but wince at how Carla said those last three words. Something is going on, she thought—but what?
“You’re being weird again!” Gia declared.
“No, we’re not!” Carla and Matt responded in unison, further compelling Gia to question them.
“What’s going on? Tell me. Now.”
“Nothing, chicky. Nothing at all. Hey! I have an idea,” Gia said, pushing to change the subject. “Let’s play a drinking game, like when we were young. Well, young-er, anyway—probably too young to be playing drinking games, actually.” Carla squealed in excitement, her eyes lighting up as Gia and Matt looked at her quizzically. It had been years since they’d played a drinking game together. It felt like something from another lifetime—one with less responsibility, less heartache, less—just… life.
“Come on!” Carla urged. “It’ll be fun!” Matt and Gia nodded their agreement, or at least resignation at Carla, knowing she’d never stop nagging if they didn’t play.
“Yay! Okay, I have the perfect game. Just—wait here. I have to get something!” As Carla dashed inside, Matt and Gia stared at each other in confusion.
“Do you have any idea what she’s doing?” asked Gia.
“Not a clue, but when it comes to Carla and her crazy ideas, I tend to just let it ride,” Matt shrugged, then added, “I’m sure you’ve learned to do the same by now.”
“That I have,” Gia said, pushing her long legs out into a stretch as Carla came rushing back to the patio.
“Okay. All set. I have cards and pens!” Carla announced.
Matt stared at her momentarily as if waiting for her to continue, but no additional words came. He sighed. “Carla, I know sometimes you think we are all up there in your mind with you—but as it turns out, we aren’t. We can’t actually hear your thoughts—and we have no idea what you’re talking about right now,” Matt chuckled.
“Oh! Right! Sorry. We are going to play a rousing game of Twenty Questions!”
“Uh, and that’s a drinking game? Since when?” Matt asked.
“Since now.” Carla passed the pens to Matt and Gia. “Now, each of us gets a pile of these little slips of paper, and we write a question on each. There aren’t twenty for each of us. That seemed like overkill, and besides, counting them out was too much work when I’m half in the bag already.” She laughed.
“So,” Gia started, “questions on the papers. Got it. Where does the drinking part come in?”
“Oh, yeah, so… if you don’t answer the question when it’s directed at you, you have to take a shot,” Carla said nonchalantly.
“A shot? A shot of what?! I was under the impression this was a relaxing patio beer night!” Gia said, placing her hand over her forehead and then massaging her temples.
Carla pulled out a relatively large mixed bag of miniature liquor bottles. “Have these nips left over from the last BBQ. Drinker’s choice—or grab bag—whatever you guys want to do.”
Gia let out a groan. “Carla, I get my kids back tomorrow. I can’t be hungover—that’s a nightmare! What happened to simple patio beers?” Gia glanced into the bag of booze.
“Ugh. Whipped cream-flavored vodka. Do you remember how well that went over last time?” she asked.
“If you’re referring to the Great Whipped Cream Vodka Vomit Fest of Senior Year, I do, in fact, recall—and I won’t be drinking any of that particular type. Never again. That’s a vow I’ll never break.” Carla shook her head from side to side, as if trying to rid herself of any recollection of the night her and Gia had decided to drink an entire bottle of disgustingly sweet cheap vodka at a bonfire party in the woods back in high school. “Just the smell is traumatic to me. But, that night wasn’t without its merits! Remember how Matty got us home that night?”
“Oh my GOD—the wagon!” Gia blurted out, nostalgia overtaking her. “He pulled us both home in the wagon because neither of us could walk! And with that said, I ask again: what happened to patio beers?”
“Plans change. Live a little. Be spontaneous. Ride the wagon. Play the game. Take the shots. Or… just answer the questions, and you won’t have to worry about it.” A teasing grin crept across the corners of Carla’s lips just as Matt released an unexpected guffaw, finally picking up on Carla’s intent for the game. He had to hand it to her; she was a schemer—but she was a very good schemer with a method behind all of her madness.
“Okay, five minutes to write your questions down—begin!” Carla announced, setting a timer on her cell phone.
Realizing that arguing any further would be a lost cause, Gia, Matt, and Carla began furiously writing on the little slips of paper that had been divvied out and set before them.
“Do these have to be PG-rated?” Matt asked, pausing momentarily to wink and nod flirtatiously at Carla.
“Yes, Matt. We can play on our own another time.” Carla rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Gi. Can’t take him anywhere.”
“I would like to take this opportunity to respectfully remind you all that this is, in fact, my home,” Matt chimed in, pretending to be insulted as a grin moved up his cheeks, already rosy from alcohol consumption.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, everyone. Get to writing. Time’s almost up!” Carla said, pointing at the timer countdown on her phone as everyone again put their pens to paper.
A few moments later, Carla’s phone buzzed. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. It’s the moment of truth! It’s Twenty—or whatever—Questions time!”
“Who goes first?” asked Matt.
“Gia answers first… She’s the guest, after all. And I ask!” said Carla.
Matt jutted out his lower lip. “Why do you get to ask first?”
“Best friend privilege,” Carla said, twirling a piece of hair around her finger with a smirk.
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s get this show on the road,” Matt conceded, knowing Carla was in the midst of hatching a plan in connection with Project Gia.
“Gia, pick a card from my pile. You have to answer the question honestly or take a shot. If either of us thinks you’re being dishonest… okay, I haven’t actually figured that part out yet. We’ll cross that bridge if we have to when we come to it. Just pick a card and answer honestly—or chug!”
Gia inhaled deeply and let it out, glancing at the bag of liquor hanging from the arm of Carla’s chair. “Lord, here we go,” she announced as she pulled a card from Gia’s pile. “Do I read this, or do you read it to me?”
“Doesn’t matter. You choose,” Carla told her.