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Ginger squeezes her glass and anxiously taps her fingers against it.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been incredibly unreasonable lately. Bitchy even. Things have just been hard at home, here, everywhere really. This isn’t really where I want to be, and I’ve been taking that out on you.”
I am happy to hear this, but I don’t feel it is necessary. Maybe a newfound friendship is blooming between us that I never saw coming. I raise my glass in front of my face.
“It’s really not a big deal Ginger, I never wanted you to think that I was intentionally not recommending you. You’re smart, and I’m sure, incredibly skilled in the art of firefighting.”
We clink our glasses together. We shoot back the rest of our drinks, then Ginger rises to get a few more. I reach for my wallet, but she pushes my hand back.
“Don’t worry about it, tonight is on that unlucky bastard.”
She motions to the bills in her bra.
Even though Ginger and I aren’t very close, I am a fairly easy person to get along with. Plus, if that person is offering to buy you drinks for the night, then hell, I’ll be your best fucking friend.
Ginger returns with two more glasses of whiskey. She puts them down and we talk as if there was never any tension between us. I can feel myself relaxing, which I welcome. Maybe a nice little buzz will help to ease these sore feet.
But with the third drink almost down, I start to feel something that didn’t feel quite like being drunk. The lights in the room began spinning in splashes of neon, while my limbs suddenly felt weakened.
For a moment I think I may faint, or even vomit. I grasp the table in front of me, attempting to keep my focus and not pass out.
Muffled words around me as the room begins to dim.
“It’s ok, I think she’s just had too many. I’ll take her home, it’s all good.” Ginger voices.
This wasn’t intoxication. This was something far more sinister.
I make eye contact with Ginger just as she raises me to my feet. I want to speak, but my mouth seems to be moving in slow motion. She is smirking as she leans close to my ear.
“Some apology, huh?”
I don’t have the energy to respond, to call out for help, or to even push her away. The world is caving in as a deep feeling of anxiety takes over my body.
I think about Isaac, I think about Luke. I think about Dad. I think about home. I am fading fast, and home feels so far away, like a ship on a foggy sea.
