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I release a little chuckle up to the cloudless sky. I'm much looser now after working my way through a quarter of the bottle. I smile lazily over at her. She observes me with humor in her eyes and takes the lounge chair next to me.
"Not even a chaser… I'm so proud of you." She palms her hand over her heart in mock pride. "You've come so far."
I laugh and give her the middle finger. When we first met our freshman year of college, Natalie would give me shit for taking shots the way I did. I had to sip them and always chase with a fruity drink.
"I know how to open my throat hole now," I say, reminding her of her old advice. Who the hell says throat hole?
Natalie grins from ear to ear. "I see you’ve stopped with the bitch drinks too." She laughs and shakes her head, then her expression turns serious. "If we're gonna talk sex when I know you're fucking my dad on the regular, then I need to catch up to you." She holds her hand out and waves her fingers at me. "Hand me the damn bottle."
Instead, I reach inside my pocket and pull out the joint and lighter and hand them to her. It's been a while since we've smoked.
"Nice." She lights up—both her face and the joint—and takes a hit.
"We're not talking sex talk," I tell her. "I don't want to talk about your dad."
"Oh, great. Because I was going to go home and bleach my ears out if that was the case. I'd rather get brown out drunk with my bestie the night before I leave for Italy."
My jaw drops and I turn my head to look at her. I almost laugh over her brown out comment. We’d searched the internet once for an answer as to why we could only remember some parts of a drunken night but not the whole thing. Apparently, it’s called a brown out, and we found that hysterical. But I'm too engrossed in her travel plans that I don't laugh, and I listen intently.
"You're going to Italy tomorrow? For how long?"
Natalie shrugs and exhales a dense cloud of smoke. She hands me the white rolled baby blunt. "I’m leaving in three days. I don't have a return date. Figured I'd see where the trip takes me and go from there. Italy is known to have the best food and lovers in the world. Why wouldn't I go there?"
I smile to myself. "Like father, like daughter." I take a deep pull myself and watch the white cloud of smoke appear in front of me. "So, you're leaving me too?"
"Don't get dramatic. And before we talk more about the Chronicles of Natalia and what her next phase of life is, I want to know what happened. This isn't you. In fact, I haven't seen you like this since Grammy passed away. I know, it's heartless of me to compare, but you look like someone died. Now tell me what the fuck is wrong."
I swallow hard as tears climb the back of my eyes. I don't look at her, I can't. I know if I do, the waterworks will come. Considering the amount of mascara I wear on a daily basis, I look scary when I cry. Natalie's been trying to get me to try lash extensions for a while now. She swears by them and says I'll never wear mascara again. Now I wish I had tried them.
I blink a few times to pull back the emotions, and then I take another hit and hand the smoke back to her.
Don't be a little bitch. Don't be a little bitch. Don't be a little bitch. I give myself a pep talk.
"What's the weather like in Italy right now?" I ask.
"Oh, we're gonna play like that? Cool. Take a swig and I'll answer. Tit for tat. I'll just get you drunk and make you confess."
My lips twitch at the blunt sarcasm in her voice. I do as she says, and she does too. One for one. I guess she's really on a mission to get drunk with me. Tequila fixe
s everything.
Natalie doesn't answer my lame question, and I'm grateful. She just hangs with me until we smoke the rest of the joint and have a few more sips each. We listen to mostly old school New York hip hop as we chill and watch the sky further darken. My best friend knows something's wrong and just sits with me, offering her silent support. Even though I don't talk for a good hour, I know she's got to be buzzed by now. I'm drunk and high, and she matched me and caught up, yet she seems normal.
"Whatta Man" plays through the speaker phone next and it makes me think of James. I listen to the lyrics and find myself smiling, the euphoria of this moment hitting me. My heart feels warm and tingly. I got myself a good guy and I'm stupidly risking his love. Every bone in my body says give him what he wants because that's what he'd do for me.
"This must be my old man's theme song, judging by the corny as fuck look on your face." Natalie jokes.
I turn my head to look at her. Oh, yeah, I was right on the money. Her eyes are glossy, and her pupils are basically all I see. She's definitely as fucked up as I am, which only makes me bark out a laugh.
"I was just thinking it was actually." I pause and release an annoyed sigh. "Whatta fucking man is right."
She doesn't flinch. Natalie just studies me with a softness to her. She's waiting, and if I know her, she'll wait all night for me to talk. She may even move her trip back if I don't start flapping my lips soon.
I swallow then quietly break it down for her.
"When you said I look like someone died, it's how I feel." My tears climb just thinking about opening up to her, but I need to. The tightness in my chest can only stretch so tight until I explode. I need to talk to get it out, and soon.
My heart races so fast at the thought of telling her the truth. I sit up and lean over, placing my elbows on my knees and stare at the ground. My fingers are tingling like they're numb. I shake my hands out and stand, suddenly feeling really hot. I pace the balcony in my bare feet and look ahead at the twinkling office lights, they make the concrete jungle feel optimistic.
