Page 122 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
B huffed, but couldn’t hide the way I was making her smile.
I loved that.
God, it was like a hit of cocaine.
“Yes!” she screamed with a bit of a laugh. “The point is, I thought that was our bonding time. Rory would weave around my legs while I undressed, and she’d hang out on the side of the tub the entire time I was in the bath, meowing occasionally, pawing at the water. It was kind of cute.”
“So you bridged your relationship with your cat during bath time?”
“Ah, well see, one would think that. But, one night, that little demon hopped onto the counter and just stared at me. I couldn’t figure out why, but she just wouldn’t stop staring. She kept inching her paw up, setting it back down, inching it up, setting it down. And finally, I realized what she was going to do — and she knew I did — because as soon as realization dawned, Rory smiled at me — swear to God — and flipped the light off in the bathroom.”
The image had me doubling over, fighting through my laughter to keep my eyes on the road.
“I’m terrified of the dark, Jamie! It was awful! And so I jumped up, scrambling to find a towel so I could turn the light back on. But because I’m a genius, I yanked on the shower curtain to help me stand up, but that only took it down, and me along with it. I fell straight to the floor, but I broke my fall with my hands instead of my face.”
“Luckily.”
“Oh,” she chided. “Yeah. So lucky. Except guess where Rory’s litter box was?”
My eyes widened, and I turned to her with realization striking like a hot iron. “No!”
“Ohhh yeah. My left hand landed right smack in the middle of a steaming pile of poo. And Rory laughed inside that little manic head of hers as she watched the whole show.”
I was thankful we pulled up to a red light then, because I was laughing so hard I had this old man wheeze thing going on.
“This seriously has to be made up.”
“I only wish I was that creative.”
We both laughed, and the tension that had been hanging around me since the start of Christmas break had thawed a bit. When the light turned green, I sighed, taking it slower than before as I continued our cruise.
“So. Baths, huh?”
I couldn’t help myself.
Fucking masochist — as if you didn’t know that by now.
B nodded, untucking her legs and resting her feet on the dash again. “Yep. I do my best thinking submerged in a tub of hot water. Bubbles are an added bonus.”
She winked.
I tried really hard not to get a boner.
“Baths are to you as driving is to me.”
“Mm-hmm,” she agreed. “Which brings us to the purple elephant in the car.” She leaned her head back, eyeing me as the smile slipped from my face. “Care to tell me the reason we’re driving around this dead ass town in the middle of the night?”
My stomach tightened at the question, at the way it felt for someone to point a flashlight into my darkness and demand to know what’s there.
“I don’t know, B,” I said after a moment. “I just… ever since school let out, I can’t stop thinking about how fast everything is changing. I mean, it’s Christmas, my last Christmas home with my family. In six months, I’ll no longer be in high school. In eight, I’ll no longer be in Florida. It feels like my entire life I’ve been aching to grow up and move on, and now that it’s all here, I’m dreading it.”
My rib cage squeezed in on my lungs.
“It’s too soon,” I croaked. “I’m not ready. I’m… scared.”
I took a sharp left turn toward the beach, knowing then that I needed it. I needed the sand between my toes, the sea breeze in my hair, the sound of the waves to sooth my thoughts.
“It’s okay to be scared,” B whispered.
“Is it?” I challenged, parking the Jeep in a free spot in front of a beach bar.
I rolled down my window to check the parking meter, making sure I didn’t need to pay, and when I verified it was free this time of night, I sighed, resting my elbow on the window panel.
“I’ve always been so sure of everything. Confident. And here I am at one of the most exciting times of my life and I feel like hiding.”
Admitting it aloud felt like trying to eat mud.
B rolled her window down, too, so I cut the engine. Immediately, the distant sound of waves rolling in against the shore behind the bar filtered in, and I swear we both visibly relaxed, the way you do when you get home after a long day.
“I think it’s normal, to feel both excited and terrified of the future,” B said after a while. “And I’d be willing to bet every senior goes through what you are right now. You’re excited to get out of high school, but also sad, because as much as it’s sucked, it’s been fun, too. I mean, look at you — you’re this big basketball star and you’re playing your last season, your hot little girlfriend is a junior, so you know she’s not coming with you, and you’re going from a familiar city and state to one you’ve only visited before now.”
