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Me too, on champagne. “B-Bryce.”
And why haven’t you mentioned him?
Now my brain buzzes anger. “You … uh …”
Go ahead, say it. “You’re never here.”
SHE DOESN’T DENY
She deflates. Like someone stuck
her with a pin and the champagne
bubbles escaped. You’re right. I’m sorry.
“It’s okay. I mean, you’re getting
married. It’s not like you should
be thinking about me, anyway.”
Her heads starts to shake. Getting
married doesn’t mean you’re not
important too. Tell me about Bryce.
We sit on her bed and I recite
the basic information, omitting
everything about today. And babies.
He s-sounds great, she sputters,
champagne kicking in. Do you
want to invite him to the wedding?
A member of the family already?
“Th-thanks. I’ll think about it.”
Sputtering a little myself, the first
time I’ve ever had alcohol go to
my head. Makes me laugh. Makes
me brave. Think I kind of like it.
Summer
STRADDLING A THIN WIRE
Three hundred feet in the air.
That’s how I feel.
