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“Been there, done that,” she confirms, taking a slug of whiskey.
“Really?” I ask. “I can’t imagine someone more different from your boyfriend.”
“And that’s why it’s a mistake,” she says.
“Don’t you think he’s a little… Scary?”
She laughs. “Well, yeah. But that’s half the appeal.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, shivering at the memory of his cold eyes on me.
“All the Darlings are scary,” she says. “That’s kind of their thing.”
I snort. “Maybe the men. Lindsey’s the furthest thing from scary. And so is her mom.”
“I don’t know,” Daria says, shaking her head. “Maybe it seems that way because they’re nice to you. But there’s a reason people fear their family name. You don’t get where they are without making enemies.”
“Then we’d better stay on her good side.”
“Amen to that.” She takes another draught from the bottle and hands it to me. I sit down on the chaise beside hers and take a drink.
“Get wasted with me,” she says, almost pleading.
“It won’t take much,” I assure her, returning the bottle.
“It’s not like he slept with Elaine while we were together,” she says after a minute, returning to her brooding. “But all the time, he just did little things that made me feel like shit about myself. Like he’d stand me up and then act like it was no big deal, and I blew it out of proportion, because we hung out all the time so what did it matter if he didn’t show up one time? Or he’d kiss other girls when my back was turned, and if I caught him, or knew what happened even if I didn’t see it, he’d make it seem like I was crazy, like I was being irrationally jealous. His favorite thing to say was, ‘Why you acting all crazy?’ and then I’d know that I’d caught him doing something. But I was just so afraid of him leaving me, ya know?”
Her words are starting to slur, and I can see she’s drunk a lot of whiskey already. I take the bottle and sip on it, mostly just to keep it away from her. She continues without seeming to notice.
“I never knew where I stood with him. We were officially together, but I never knew exactly how he felt, even though he told me he loved me and his friends would tell me how special I was.”
“I kinda feel that with Todd,” I admit. “I don’t know if he likes me or Elaine. But that’s different because it doesn’t really bother me that much.”
“Because you don’t love him,” Daria says, grabbing the bottle and turning it up while she chugs a few swallows. She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, swaying on her chair. “I would do anything for Colin. But even when we were dating, it never really felt like I had him, you know? I was always chasing something, always one step behind. If I could just reach him, he’d see how much I loved him. If I tried just a little harder, he’d love me back. So I had to keep going, keep trying, keep chasing.”
“That sounds nothing like you,” I say, shaking my head.
“That’s what I’m saying,” she yells, throwing her hands up. “But he could never be mine, so it was like, even when he was my boyfriend, I could only love him from afar. I watched him and wanted him, but I never felt like I could just reach out andtakehim.”
She grabs the sleeve of my jacket and yanks me towards her. I almost fall out of my chair. I’m not used to taking shots, or drinking straight alcohol, and I’m tipsy myself.
“You know about that,” Daria says, as if reading my mind. “Like you with Chase.”
Maybe I do understand. But Chase isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my friend’s boyfriend.
I’m not sure which is worse—not being able to truly have something that should be yours already, or not being able to have something that will never be yours.
“Just think,” she says, looking up at the snow pouring down. “If I’d known he’d slept with Elaine, I never would have dated him in the first place. I would be atotallydifferent person right now.”
“But you’re an amazing person,” I say, my words coming out more slowly than the sentence I’d formed in my head. “So in a way, it’s good you never knew.”
“I guess you’re right. I just wish… I wish she’d never told me.”
“Wish fish,” I say, waving a hand. I’m hypnotized by the snow coming straight down into my face. If I look up into it, I feel like I’m falling down into an endless sky of grey, with cold splinters of ice meeting me on the way down.
Daria starts giggling. “Wish fish? What kind of answer is that? Here I’m like suicidally depressed, and all you can say iswish fish?”
I try to shush her, but she swats at me and hoots hysterically. Then she swings the bottle high into the air. “Eighty proof in a bottle is the closest thing to love I’ll ever have,” she sings. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll have it too!”
