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‘Because,’ she snaps at me. ‘It’s just stupid. I don’t want to die.’
She continues to look down at her hands, which are still trembling as she fidgets with her silver thumb-ring. I get an urge to grab her hand again, to stop the trembling and fidgeting, but I don’t.
‘I’m sorry. I guess that was kind of a stupid question. I was just wondering why a pretty girl like you would hang out with me when you could be at home in your warm bed with your pjs on. Or out with your friends . . . or your boyfriend.’
She finally chuckles. ‘So, accusing me of wanting to die is your way of avoiding my question or is it just a really messed-up way of asking me if I have a boyfriend?’
‘It’s just me being a total dick. And . . . do you have a boyfriend?’
‘No.’ She looks up and fixes me with a steely glare. ‘Most guys don’t appreciate a girl who’s crazy and also doesn’t put out.’
I’m not quite sure how to respond to this statement. It’s probably best to change the subject or reach for a joke. ‘Yeah, I know how you feel. Most girls don’t appreciate a guy who can cite Shakespeare and won’t put out. Actually, I think that’s a line from Macbeth.’
Her glare melts into a reluctant smile. ‘You’re not a total dick.’
‘Still not putting out.’
Jimmy, the bartender, arrives a few minutes later and Mikki retreats into herself again in his presence. Jimmy’s a cool guy, like me, but he can seem a bit intimidating. At six-foot-three with nineteen-inch biceps, he doesn’t have to work hard to keep the rowdy customers in check. But I want Mikki to feel relaxed. And I can see, by the way she’s fidgeting with her thumb-ring and her hair, not adding a single word to our conversation, that she’s pretty uncomfortable.
‘You want to head out of here? We can go get a drink somewhere else.’
She looks up at me, slightly confused. ‘Why would we go somewhere else? We haven’t even finished our first drink yet.’
I nod and ask Jimmy to get another round of dirty martinis ready. ‘How do you like that martini?’
She picks up the martini glass and guzzles down the rest of the drink, leaving the olive at the bottom. ‘Delicious.’ She grabs the other glass that Jimmy just set down in front of her and takes another long swig. ‘Definitely the best martini I’ve ever had in Boston.’
‘Have you ever had a martini in Boston?’ I ask, then I guzzle the rest of my first martini so I can keep up with her.
‘Not nice, young lady.’ Jimmy chides her and she lifts her martini glass to him.
‘Still the best,’ she declares, then she finishes martini number two.
Jimmy throws me a brief glance that probably means, Where’d you find this one? or, Am I gonna have to eighty-six her at eleven a.m.?
‘Maybe you should eat a little something before you transform into a walking dirty martini. All you had was half a muffin.’
‘The bottom,’ she clarifies, looking at Jimmy. ‘I’m not hungry.’
‘I make a pretty mean green olive and maraschino cherry kabob,’ I reply, and Jimmy lifts the condiment tray onto the bar.
I grab a toothpick and stack two olives and two cherries, then I hold it out to her. Her face looks a little gray as she shoots my concoction a look of disgust.
‘I said I’m not hungry. You eat it.’
I pop the toothpick into my mouth and pull it out clean. The bitter brine of the olives hits me first, then the cloying sweetness of the cherries. I take my first chew and it all explodes into a squishy mess in my mouth.
‘That’s disgusting,’ she remarks.
I gulp down the rest of my shit-kabob and Jimmy shakes his head as he sets a glass of ice water on the bar for me to wash it down. ‘Yeah, but it got you to stop jonesin’ for a martini for two minutes.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘I’m more of a beer girl, anyway.’
‘You and I are going to get along very well.’
‘I thought we were already getting along pretty well.’
I successfully manage to get her to slow her downward slide into Crunksville by asking Jimmy to switch us to tap beer, which he cuts with a little club soda. Then I keep her talking to keep her mouth busy. Soon, three hours have passed and we’ve only had three more beers. Unfortunately, with the lack of food, she’s looking pretty loose as she leans over the bar with the side of her head propped up on her fist.
‘And that’s the tragic story of why my dad gave Bradley away when I was six.’
She’s just spent the past twenty minutes telling me the story of her dog Bradley Snickers, a chocolate Labrador Retriever. The only pet she ever had.
‘You took your dog for a walk on thin ice to see if it would hold you both?’
‘I’m not saying it wasn’t a stupid thing to do, but I was only six years old. I think my dad may have overreacted just a little.’ She guzzles the dregs of beer in her glass and looks up at me, her eyes unfocused and a bit teary. ‘I loved that fucking dog. It was the only
thing I ever loved. I would never have purposely hurt him.’ I reach up to brush a piece of hair away from her eyes and she smacks my hand away. ‘Don’t touch me. I didn’t say you could touch me!’
‘Sorry. I – I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t have to be sorry, just don’t do it.’ She chuckles a little after she says this. ‘That’s what my mom used to say to me when I got in trouble and I tried to apologize for being bad. She’d say, “Don’t apologize; just don’t do it.” Like it’s that easy to always do the right thing.’
‘Mikki?’
‘What?’ she snaps at me as she slides her empty beer glass away so she can rest her head on top of her arms.
‘Where are you staying tonight?’
She heaves a deep sigh as she closes her eyes. ‘Don’t know. Right here seems just fine.’
Jimmy raises his eyebrows as he pretends to be busy popping the seeds out of the lemon wedges he just cut. I can’t help but watch her face with a bit of awe. Even with her black hair, her lip ring, and the tattoos on her fingers, she looks so sweet and innocent. I feel strangely protective of her, like I should tell Jimmy to buzz off. She can spend the night wherever she wants. Can’t you see she’s broken?
I can tell by the shiny bit of drool accumulating at the corner of her mouth that she’s already beginning to fall asleep. I take a risk and reach for her. Gently grasping her arm, I give it an easy shake. She doesn’t flinch this time.
She groans softly and her eyelids flutter open. ‘Sorry. I didn’t sleep last night.’
‘Maybe we should get you a room so you can get some rest.’
She pushes herself up from the bar and blinks a few times. ‘If you try anything I’ll kill you,’ she mutters, reaching for her purse. ‘And I don’t mean that figuratively. I will actually murder you. I have nothing to lose.’
‘Not if I kill you first.’
Rina lies back on my bed and holds up the piece of paper I just handed her. She reads the poem silently and I watch her; silent on the outside and screaming on the inside: She hates it. I take a couple of deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. I’ve never shared my poems with anyone.
Finally, she smiles and lets the paper fall from her fingers and float down onto her chest. ‘Wow . . . Is that what your first kiss felt like? Cause mine was nowhere near as romantic as that.’
‘So . . . you liked it?’
She laughs as she sits up. ‘Are you kidding me? That was amazing. Do you have more?’
‘No,’ I reply quickly and she looks confused. ‘I mean, nothing that’s ready to be seen.’
‘That’s cool. So . . . the guy in that poem . . . was that . . . Brad?’
‘No.’ I snatch the paper off the bed. ‘He wasn’t my first kiss.’
‘No, he was your first asshole. There’ll be plenty more of those. At least, that’s what my mom says.’
I fold the piece of paper, where I poured my most intimate thoughts yesterday, and tuck it into the top drawer of my nightstand. ‘I’d rather not talk about Brad.’
Reaching into the back of the drawer, I retrieve an amber bottle of pills. I spill one of the green pills into the palm of my hand, then I grab the glass of water from the top of my nightstand and guzzle it down. Rina doesn’t stare at me while I do this. This is normal behavior to her. She’s seen me popping pills since the day we met on the first day of school six weeks ago. Her mom pops pills too, but for different reasons than I do.
‘Hey, I have an idea.’ Rina jumps off the bed and spins around to look me in the eye. ‘You should submit your poems to the newsletter committee.’
‘Hell no! I almost passed out just from showing them to you. I’d die of mortification if anyone else read them.’
‘But it’s so good! You can’t keep that to yourself. That’s not fair to the rest of the world.’
I shake my head as I grab my empty glass off the nightstand and head for the bedroom door. ‘No way. End of discussion.’ I open the door, opening my mouth to ask her if she wants anything to drink, then I see my mom at the top of the stairs.
‘Mikki, have you seen Rina? Her mom just called and said she doesn’t know where she is. She’s on her way here.’
‘Haven’t seen her,’ I blurt, then I slam the bedroom door shut. ‘Your mom’s on her way,’ I whisper frantically.
Just then, the doorbell rings and Rina grabs fistfuls of her long red hair. ‘Oh, shit! What do I do?’
