Chapter 20 Besties and Vodka
BESTIES AND VODKA
The center was closed every other Friday so we could catch up on billing and have a day away from dealing with other people’s problems. I did my billing from home so I could also catch up on laundry and other domestic duties I neglected during the week.
My phone buzzed with messages. Anna had been calling and messaging me.
She heard that Tristan was maybe in the area and she needed to talk to me.
I didn’t have the energy nor did I care for whatever she had to say about Tristan.
I would block her, but she knew my mother, and if anything ever happened to her, Anna would call me.
“Ugh, I’m too old for drinking that much vodka.” Zoey shuffled to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice and a bottle of Advil.
I watched her cringe as she tried to open the child safety cap. “You put the Advil in the fridge?”
“Drunk Zoey thought that was a good idea. Why don’t they sell non-child safety caps? Help.” She thrust the bottle at me. “I saw Tristan last night.”
“Really?” I opened the bottle and handed it back to her. I knew she had seen Tristan because he told me.
“Yeah, we ended up at Fifty-Two West. He still looks like a sex god. We talked about you. Okay, I talked about you. Drunk Zoey has a big mouth. She might have said she thought he was hot and that you two would make really pretty babies. Sorry, Ev. It was a rough night.”
“I’d say.” Tristan had messaged me and told me he had called Zoey and her date an Uber. And that he, too, thought we would make pretty babies. But he still didn’t want kids. “What’s going on?”
“Family shit. That and Tyler’s friend got a promotion. We were just going to have a couple drinks and then the wheels fell off somewhere between RedFin and Fifty-Two. I think I may owe Tristan for an Uber. I guess you guys are comingling your friends.”
“I guess. You want to talk about it?”
“Can I have coffee first?”
“Sure.” I went back to the article I was reading about a study on how the brain can’t tell the difference between the high we get from drugs and love.
In the simplest terms, your brain releases the same hormones when you’re in love as it does when you drink a favorite wine or freebase heroin.
That is why we become addicted to love. We are chasing that high. I’m literally addicted to Tristan.
“Tristan said you guys had lunch yesterday.”
“Wow, you guys talked a lot.”
Zoey popped the Advil in her mouth and drank the juice from the bottle. “We did. I lost Tyler and ended up sitting at the bar talking to him. He’s really easy to talk to. Or I was that drunk. So what did you decide to do?”
“What, you and your new best friend didn’t talk about that?” I teased. “I guess we’re going to try it. It might not be the smartest thing I’ve ever done. And I may regret it in two—”
“Oh my god, stop already,” Zoey cut in. “You need therapy. But not because you’re seeing Tristan.
” Zoey walked over to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup of coffee.
“You and Callie both need help. You two always have to analyze everything. Why you chose to wear the red dress versus the black one. Why you hate the smell of Ivory soap. Or why my parents treat me differently than my brother. Which is because of some fucked-up culture thing and not something you two will solve over a bottle of red wine. God, it’s annoying.
Not everything has to be rationalized and overanalyzed.
Sometimes we fall for boys that look like Tristan.
Why do you think God made men like him? That’s what we should be discussing over a bottle of red. ” Zoey took a deep breath. “Okay?”
“Okay?” I closed my computer. “Now do you want to talk about it?”
“Sorry. I like Tristan. He’s sweet, caring, and not Ian. I don’t want you to lose a good thing because you’re overthinking things.” Zoey sat down. “And I might have to leave town for a few days.”
“Wow, what did you do last night?”
“It’s my dad.” Zoey sighed. “Remember when I said he was off at dinner last week? Like, more than normal. He was. My brother finally talked him into going to a Western medicine doctor.” Zoey blinked back the tears. “It’s dementia. It’s pretty bad. My mom has been covering for him.”
I reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “I should feel something, right? But there’s nothing. It’s like you told me Harold lost his mind. It’s bad news but…” She looked around the room and back at me. “I don’t know what to feel for a man that was never happy with anything.”
I wanted to tell her that this was a normal reaction to this kind of news. That we go through stages and steps as our brain processes this new information. That was what therapist Evan would do. But Zoey didn’t need that. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. Thomas wants them to move out to California to be closer to him. There is a nice assisted living place in San Jose. Mom’s sister also lives out there. Dad can have full-time care, and Mom will have family to take care of her when… There is a large Chinese and Taiwanese community out there.”
This was the rationalizing stage. We did this to help lessen the guilt for not doing more or not being better. But in truth there was nothing we could do to fix the brain when it broke itself. “That sounds like a good plan.”
“That’s it?” She looked at me. “You’re not going to tell me that this is normal and start listing off all the things that are going on in my head? Tell me how to cope?”
“Is that what you want?” I cringed at the stupid question. I asked a version of it so many times during the day.
“God, Evan, can you ever just be Evan?”
I tried not to take this personally. It wasn’t me she was angry with. “Tell me what you need from me.”
“To make this go away. I don’t want to deal with aging parents.
Long-term care. Moving them. I want him to…
fuck, I don’t know!” Zoey looked up, blinking back tears.
“Anyways, I told Thomas I would help him talk to Mom. Then go look at places with him. He’s flying back in a couple days.
Then we are to drive Mom and Dad out to see what they think.
I have no idea how long this will take. Can you water Herbert the pothos? ”
“Of course. I’ll even turn on MPR for him.
” I gave her a quick hug. “It’s okay what you are feeling, to not know what to do with all of this.
What’s not okay is to not talk about it.
You have two friends who love you and are trained to help you through this.
” I held up my hand when she started to protest. “And two friends who will hold your hand and just let you cry or scream if that’s what you need. Okay?”
She smiled. “It would be more helpful if one of you was a doctor and could give me something for this pounding headache.” She rubbed her brow. “So, are you going to see Tristan again?”
I shrugged. And then as if on cue, he called. “That’s him.”
“Tell Tristan his bestie says hi.”
“Hey,” I answered the phone, walking into my bedroom. “Thanks for helping Zoey get home.”
“No problem. Checking to see if you’re still free. My roommate’s band is playing at First Ave tonight. They’re not bad. It’s kind of a mix between rock and folk, I guess?”
Normally I spent weekends with Ian. It was the only time we got to see each other. Our work schedule didn’t leave a whole lot of time during the week. “Sounds fun.”
“Craig will be there. Is that okay?”
“Is that because he wants to be or because it will feel weird without a third wheel?” I liked this. This new relationship with Tristan, the one where we could joke about our messed-up past.
“Because he also knows my roommate. But he’s not riding with us, nor are we taking him to McDonald’s afterward. And he is not sleeping in your bed.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “Okay, if you say so. What time?”
“Eight-ish. I’ll pick you up?”
“Sounds good. I’ll text you my address.” We would survive this.
We’d have the life I had wanted for us all those years ago.
I could see him standing in the kitchen, all dark ink with that perfect mouth making me pancakes.
Then my cell rang and the name that flashed was like a cold shower sobering me up quickly. Ian.
“Hello?”
“Evan? It’s Ian.”
It sounded like he was at a restaurant or something. “Yes, Ian, I know. Where are you?”
“At Top Golf. I wanted to confirm a few details for Saturday. I’ll pick you up at seven. It’s business casual. There will be about fifty people there.”
He listed everything else I would need to know about the dinner. Who would be there. What would be expected of me. Of him. I should break it off now. “Ian, can we talk? Meet for lunch?"
Someone called Ian’s name. “Now? I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“Sure, enjoy your game.” This was typical of us.
We didn’t address things. We pushed them to the back until there was no more room, and even then, we just kept pushing.
That’s why we hadn’t had the I don’t want kids talk.
Or even where do you see us in three years talk.
We loved on the surface, if love was even what we had. I should’ve ended this weeks ago.
“It’s not a game,” Ian corrected me. “And we’ll talk later.
” He hung up before I could say anything else.
It looked like the breakup would have to wait until after the dinner.
That was probably better. I had this thing where I didn’t want to ruin other people’s big life events.
My mother had done that my entire life. And the dinner was a big life event for Ian.