Page 65 of Tell Me Lies: Manlove Edition

He refills her glass with a mysterious smile.

“Gracias,” she coos, fluttering her eyelashes. Thank you.

When he’s gone, she gapes her mouth wide-open, staring at us around the table. “Oh my Gawd,” she exclaims, ecstatic. “Did you see how hot he is?”

Lola laughs.

“He’s even hotter than Robin,” Mira-Me continues. “And he is hot.”

Robin shakes his head, as if to say she’s being silly.

“Right, Zane?” she asks, turning to me and flashing her teeth.

“With those mimics,” Robin throws at her, “you could pass for a clown.”

“Seriously, Zane is single. In case you’re wondering.”

“Oh, shut up,” I groan and rub my face.

“Hey, everyone saw what was going on over the fence earlier.”

“It was just a prank.” I’m not ready to talk about the kiss with such a superficial person.

“Right,” she scoffs. “Cheers, Zane.”

“Cheers.” I consider the glass of rosé in front of me. It’s tempting. Light from the setting sun traverses it, giving the wine a rich, red-pink glow. The scent of sweet grapes and the woodsy sting of alcohol sneak into my nostrils, and my body knows a few swallows of this beverage can make me feel more joyous. Can I have this one glass and stop at that? Do I absolutely need more, or has the drinking just become an annoying habit I can control if I set my mind to it?

I started drinking because seeing my kid endure cancer treatment and all its ugly facets tore at my heartstrings worse than anything I’d experienced before. The pain of witnessing his hurts and fears, and the inability to help him—save him—destroyed me bit by bit, day after day. Long after his death, I continued escaping the horrors. Downing liquor until I was senseless wasn’t an addiction but a means of survival. I was a broken soul who had been too close to Hell’s furnace too long, and the edges of my wings had begun to burn.

I take a deep breath. I can’t tell any of this to my friends, because it would chill their good mood and I don’t want to ruin the evening.

Something strokes my leg underneath the table. I freeze but refrain from looking down. Was it a cat? Robin’s voice brings me back to him. Warm and soothing. “We’ve got you, partner. It will only be this one glass.”

“Yeah,” Mira-Me quips, “and if you don’t want it, I’ll have it. Ha-ha. No problemo.”

I guess I can do it. I can decide not to give in to the thirst. It’s like saying no to cigarettes, it’s a matter of controlling the brain. Then with time, the body will adjust and accept, too. The urges will become a distant memory.

But do I want to say no? Or am I afraid of losing the assurance of knowing I can always seek refuge in a bottle, should my blues get too bad?

A new stroke of my leg, gentle but lasting longer, has me think it’s not a cat but Robin, because over the table he is eyeing me with an inscrutable look telling me something intense. What? It’s not only about the drink, is it? I need to ask him—my heart is screaming for understanding—but not here in the company of the two women.

“Okay, I trust you guys.” I clear my throat, grab the glass of rosé, and raise it in a toast. “To Lola, and to us. May this day be a new beginning in our lives.” And I don’t only mean the control of my addiction.

“Cheers,” the two women say, toasting.

I put my lips to the glass and taste the rosé on my tongue. It’s sweet, it tastes fruity, and the sharp fumes tease my nose, mouth, everything that is used to consuming without restraint. I’m walking danger, I can drink anything so long as it contains a certain percentage of alcohol and a promise of carefree bliss.

Oh, but I’m not doing this to get high tonight, I want to enjoy a nice evening out with my friends. I taste some more rosy wine in my mouth before returning the glass to its owner. “Thanks, it’s delicious, but I’m good.”

Robin gives me an approving smile, but Mira-Me gets up with a huff, her chair screeching on the floor. “Oh, you party pooper. I’m gonna go see if that waiter is as fun as he looks.” With that, she leaves, long platinum hair waving behind her.

Lola yawns and stretches her arms. “You know what, guys? I’m gonna call it a day, too. It was nice to go out and all, but I’m beat, literally. And the wine makes my head spin.”

Robin’s brows furrow. “You didn’t eat.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m feeling a bit nauseous after what happened earlier. But I’ll be better tomorrow.” She gets up, leans down to peck him on the cheek, and waves a few fingers at me across the table with a smile. “Good night.”

“Good night, hope you sleep well.”

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