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In other words, no one would know.
She could have a sip. Just a sample. She could down the whole damn cup and make the awkward social situation a lot more tolerable.
No one would know.
Why had she agreed to the bar-b-que, anyway? Probably because Courtney caught her in a weak moment. A moment when she felt lonely. Everyone she cared about was wrapped up in their own lives. Derrick had a new boyfriend. Mrs. Edelman was seeing Emily regularly. Her mom was thriving in her new life in Flagstaff, still seeinghernew boyfriend—that had to be a record. And Roxi was deep in rehearsals for the musical.
Which left Gia, a Saturday night, two dozen strangers, and a plastic cup filled with a strong margarita. That she didn’t ask for.
A filmstrip of the past year flew by, as if it were projected onto Courtney’s wood plank fence. Scenes flashed in and out of her consciousness—a curated highlight reel: rolling into the desert with no job and a car on its last legs, an apartment she’d rented sight-unseen thanks to help from her dad, a freshly ended relationship, and no idea what to do next. She remembered her first sobriety meeting. Fetching Galileo from the tree. Remembered surviving her first outing to a bar without drinking. Kissing Roxi in the street, then freaking out. Joining the climbing gym. Meeting Derrick in the weightlifting section of the library. Discovering her neighbor had a long-lost lover. Finding Emily. Moments of uncertainty. Confusion. Excitement. Joy.
She’d experienced the ups and downs of life. Without numbing agents. Without vices.
Gia couldn’t believe she was having the conversation with herself about the drink in her hand. The “no one will know” conversation never ended well. Because even if “no one” knew, she’d know. She was the one who’d scratched and clawed and was two weeks away from her one-year sobriety token. No one could get her there—only Gia could do it.
Before they’d gone to the Palmeranian the first time, Roxi’d told her that booze was everywhere, and she had to find a way to make peace with it. Peace had come from avoiding being alone in places where she might find temptation. Peace had come from developing friendships. Peace had come from climbing. And peace had come from her meetings.
And then. A red party cup. Unspoken expectations. Her natural quiver. A tidal wave developed in the cup, the liquid forming tiny peaks as it shook. She lifted the cup to her lips and sniffed again.
“Hey, G!” Courtney said, from nowhere. Talk about timing.
“Oh, hi.” Gia lowered the cup.
“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you. My brother has a heavy hand when it comes to the booze. You may not remember tonight if you—”
“Actually—” Gia interrupted. “I just remembered I promised my neighbor I’d check on her cat tonight. I’m sorry, I need to run.”
“Oh, I’m sure the cat’ll be fine. They’re such independent creatures, you know. Stay a while. The burgers are just about done and—”
“This cat is different,” Gia interrupted again. “We have a thing, he and I. Anyway, thank you for inviting me.” Gia pushed the cup away from her body, as if to say, “take it, please.”
“Okay, suit yourself. Glad you popped in,” Courtney grabbed the cup as if she knew. Maybe she did. Maybe, she intervened at just the right time because she did. “See you at practice next week!”
Courtney was gone as soon as she appeared. As was the temptation. And wasn’t that life? Waiting for the discomfort to pass? Waiting for the moment to come and go?
Gia retraced her steps out of her coach’s house and headed straight to the Overeater’s Anonymous meeting she’d joined months before. It was a close call. A near miss. And a reminder—she needed to be around her people.
???
“What’s wrong,chica?” Roxi’s voice echoed, as if she were in a cavern.
A sigh. Gia’s hand found her hair—it was getting long. “Nothing. And everything.”
“Okay. I’m gonna need more than that. Why’re you down?”
Gia stalled—again. She needed to confess to Roxi, who would understand. Who would tell her to dust herself off, let it go, and move on. Silent breathing didn’t translate well to phone call, and yet, that’s all she could muster.
“G? What the hell is going on?” Roxi pressed. “I’m calling you back on Facetime.”
Before Gia could object, Roxi’d disconnected the call, and her phone rang again with a video request. “Hi.”
“Hola.” Roxi’s dark eyes twinkled under the light of a bathroom vanity light. That explained the echo. She was dressed in her standard issue tights and rock-band T-shirt attire, with her hair pulled into a hot pink headband.
“Have you been in the bathroom this whole time?” Gia continued to avoid the question—whywasshe so down?
“Yeah, only place I can get some privacy in the house. Everyone’s downstairs singing showtunes. I didn’t understand the downsides of living with a bunch of theatre geeks. If I hear ‘Seasons of Love’ one more time, I’m going to strangle someone for the 525,600 minutes of my life that have been consumed with that song!”
“Sounds rough.” Gia pulled the covers up to her shoulders and glanced at the clock. Just after midnight. Old Gia would just be getting going at midnight on a Saturday, and there she lay in bed, wallowing in self-doubt while Facetiming someone living in a completely different world than hers.
