Fetching.

She lies and says she's in love with him
Can't find a better man
She dreams in color, she dreams in red
Can't find a better man

At dinner a martini was ordered for me and I drank it. And then another and I drank that too. Then more. And I kept transferring the olives between glasses and Lochlan kept giving me terrible looks across the table. By the end of dinner I had a whole glassful of huge olives left to crunch into. I ate the first one quickly, used to the bitter bite of oily fruity goodness. This one was spicy and gin-filled and I choked on it and then swallowed it whole. I didn't think I could breathe and so I took PJ's coke and drank some while he gently thwacked me on the back. Lochlan kicked me under the table. Enough, it meant.

Enough.

I left the other olives there in the glass. 

***

In the car on the way home I got the hiccups. Not just quiet little benign hiccups but full-body-jerking, silence-interrupting, breath-stealing, can't-finish-a-sentence type of hiccups that make it hard to function.

I sit in the truck long after everyone had gone inside, just to hold my breath many times in a row to try and get rid of the hiccups. It finally worked. I found out something else too. The truck sort of reminds me of my old pantry where I could sit on the floor for hours in the dark and reorganize my brain when things became overwhelming.

If now even an olive is overwhelming I wonder what is left to organize, exactly.

***

When I leave the truck I make my way to the boathouse to say goodnight and also find out if I'm supposed to work tomorrow.  Caleb turns around from where he is making tea. He invites me to join him but I refuse, saying I just want to know if I'm working. He asks if I enjoyed dinner and then asked how many martinis did I have?

I dunno. Doesn't matter, does it? I ask him, grinning and then I describe the fire-olives that were so lethal they must be ninja, hitmen, mafia olives so he should watch his back and we're all going to switch to the greasy black kalamata ones instead starting tomorrow. I tell him I still can't feel my tongue. He frowns and I blush inappropriately and say it's time for me to go. I step forward to give him a quick hug. He puts his arms out so easily. I get the hiccups again and start laughing and I give him a shove but he doesn't let go.

I look up into his eyes and hiccup again, my whole body going rigid in spasm. He smiles and says another drink will fix it but instead of saying yes like I always do I repeat no without hesitation.

If you want to come for a juice nightcap, you can, you know. No more booze though. I point toward my house and hiccup again.

Think I'll stay here. Sweet dreams, Little Hiccup.

That's not me, I'm Bridget. And I think I might be damaged. I mean drunkened. Do you think? I tap him on the chest hard.


Jesus, Bridget, go home before I keep you. He lets go suddenly, going cold. Yeah, me too.


Night, Diabhal. Don't say things like that, okay, please?

I head back across the driveway. When Caleb is desperate he sounds so much like Lochlan it's downright frightening. I walk into the heat of the house and sit down on the floor gingerly to unbuckle my high heels. Once out of the stilts I feel a little more steady. There's a bit of a jam underway in the kitchen. and I go to the doorway and watch. Lochlan drops his part and comes over.

Everything okay? I was about to come looking for you.

I nod and hiccup at him. He laughs, leaning down to give me a kiss but then yells BOO really loud in my face. I jump fifty feet but I still hiccup when I am done smacking him in the chest. Fuck it. Argh.

Then I realize I really am thoroughly and completely drunk as he lets go because I'm still warm.  He returns to his guitar, picking up the lyrics just as they get to the bridge.

She loved him, yeah
She don't want to leave this way
She feeds him, yeah
That's why she'll be back again
Can't find a better man
Can't find a better man

He grins and winks at me. Not sure why he's so happy. The words are so profoundly sad and yet here I am tapping my fingers because it's such a notable refrain. I couldn't get the olives to match the taste I remembered and now I can't get the feelings to match up with the words they accompany. I put my hands up over my eyes. I don't like nights that end like this. Maybe I just need some sleep.