Page 58 of Loathe at First Sight

“Are you okay?” Mom asks.

“Yeah, I guess. Just feeling a little defeated.”

“Well, you know you can always come back home and stay if you need to, and the bar is always open for you to work at too.”

“I know,” I reply, hoping that neither one of those is my last resort.

She reaches over, setting her hand on top of mine. “I know it sucks, but remember, you just have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and keep on going.”

“Mom, when will you learn that I would much rather wear heels than boots?” I joke.

“I don’t know that heels are going to protect your feet from horse poop.”

“Okay, this metaphor has taken a very weird turn.”

She laughs. “It sure has. All I’m trying to say is keep on going. If I gave up every single time I’ve wanted to, I wouldn’t be anywhere right now.”

The difference is that my mom has always had Dad in her corner, supporting her and cheering her on. And she’s always done the same for him. They are a true team.

The last time I thought I was part of a team, I lost hundreds of thousands of dollars and practically everything I owned.

I don’t think our situations are the same.

“Well, I better get back to the bar,” she says before swigging the last of her coffee. “I have a few things to do before your dad and I leave.”

I stand up and take our cups to the sink before walking her to the front door.

“If you’re not busy tonight, you could always come by the bar. Tonight, it’s ladies drink for half price.”

“Uh, okay, I’ll think about it.”

We say our goodbyes, and she’s out the door in a blur. I swear the woman moves as though she’s running away from something.

I get back to cleaning, but it’s doing nothing for the anger I feel inside me.

First, Jack.

Then, Esther wanting to sell this place.

Not to mention the fact that my head is still throbbing from knocking it on the oven time after time. With every passing minute, I can feel my blood pressure rising.

Finally, I’ve had enough. I walk out of the kitchen and over to the guest book to see if we have anyone checking in tonight.

Of course not.

I know that the night manager will be here in case there are any stragglers, so I shouldn’t have to worry about that.

Maybe I could use a drink to try to help take the edge off. I could go upstairs to my room and drown in a bottle of whiskey, but where’s the fun in that? Maybe some fresh air will do me some good.

Or maybe not.

But it’s worth a shot.

What’s the harm in having one drink?

twenty-one

First Impressions are Sometimes Right

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