Page 5 of Glad You're Here

He burst out laughing. It had a rich, contagious sound that I felt deep in my belly. It made me feel at home.

Home.

What a funny word. People defined it as a place, but it’d always been more like a feeling for me. My aunt gave me that feeling, the smell of acrylic paint and pine trees, and now Levi’s laugh.

Weird.

Levi lifted his glass to his lips again, but I reached out and pressed it back down. I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Levi, is this your first time? Are you a whiskey virgin?”

He leaned forward, too, and whispered, “Yes. Am I making a fool of myself?”

I bit my lip and nodded. Then I called Desi over. “Girl, can we get this man a coke for his whiskey?”

She smirked at Levi and slid him a glass of coke. I poured his shot of whiskey in and presented his new drink to him. “Whiskey neat is for badasses like me, seasoned old gentlemen smoking cigars, crazy Irishmen, or alcoholics.”

Levi laughed. “My mistake.” He sipped his new drink and breathed a sigh of relief. “That is so much better.” He took one more long pull from his glass before asking, “Are you vacationing or local?”

“Local. My aunt owns this bar, and I like to hang out here and take sad little strays like you under my wing.” Not true. I never took anyone under my wing, ever.

“Ah. Fantastic. Glad I fit the bill.”

“What about you?” I asked, even though I thought I already knew the answer. I rested my elbow on the bar with my chin in my hand.

“I am a tourist.” Levi downed his drink a little too quickly for a whiskey virgin. This night was bound to turn more entertaining if I could convince him to have a few more drinks. I signaled Desi to give him a refill and scanned the bar for Jo. She’d pressed herself up against a man old enough to be her father. It looked like he might get lucky tonight. Or she. Maybe Jo was the lucky one in this scenario. I couldn’t say.

A better person than me would have pulled Jo aside and smacked some sense into her until she could see her worth.

But I’d never pretended to be a good person, and I’d never pretended to be Jo’s friend. Pretending was her game, and she’d have to choose to stop playing all on her own.

I turned back to the adorable, sheltered man beside me with a smile. “Levi, did you come here all by yourself?”

“I did.” He nodded and took another drink. Again, a good person would have told him to slow down, but what did I say about me being a good person? “I’m recently divorced and hated by everyone I know.” Levi chugged his second drink.

“That’s a little dramatic, dude.” I laughed and signaled Desi again. I was an ass.

“I’m guessing you’ve never left a cult, Thea.” Levi raised an eyebrow at me. “I’ve had enough judgment for one lifetime, so please spare me yours.”

His piercing stare caught me right in the chest or something. Not the heart. I didn’t have one of those. I cleared my throat and did something highly out of character. I patted his shoulder in a show of comfort. “I’m sorry, Levi. No, I haven’t left a cult, but I’ve left other hard things.” The pain and struggle were written all over his face, and like a true macabre weirdo, I wanted his pain.

“What’s it like — leaving a cult?”

“It’s like…” Levi paused and ran his finger down some condensation on his glass. “It’s like living your entire life blind and afraid and then suddenly gaining the ability to see, realizing that you were never sightless. You’d only been blindfolded by the people who were supposed to love and protect you.” He lifted his glass to his lips but didn’t drink. “And then, once you can see, you realize that everyone around you is still wearing their blindfolds, but instead of being happy when you tell them, they’re furious.”

Levi took a gulp and then chuckled. “I feel all tingly and a little dizzy. This is fun. Is this why people drink? It can’t be for the taste.” His eyes lit up at this discovery, like being buzzed excited him more than anything.

Fascinating. The first time I got drunk, I was thirteen and had such an unremarkable experience. I downed four cheap piss beers at a party and let Marcus Johnson touch my boobs. Everyone did it. It didn’t remotely blow my mind.

But Levi sat there, completely enthralled by the way his extremities tingled. He stared at the bubbles rising in his glass, his mouth slightly open in awe. His analogy about gaining the ability to see for the first time was spot on. He looked hungry for experience, and I wanted to watch this journey unfold.

“Levi, how long are you visiting Durango?”

His eyes shot up to meet mine, full of concern now. His eyes were so expressive. “Uh, well, I have a hotel booked for two weeks and haven’t figured out what I’m doing after that. I have a boring job teaching accounting at Southern Utah University, so I guess I have to go back for that.”

Two weeks. I could hang around for two weeks to watch Levi discover life. I mentally erased possible suicide from Tuesday evening on my calendar. “Well, my friend,” I patted his arm. “I’m going to give you my number, not for a date, absolutely not for a date. Call me if you decide to go out drinking again. My aunt owns this bar, and I can get you drinks for free.”

“Really? Wow, thank you.” Levi hiccuped like a classic drunk.

“No problem, dude.” I signaled Desi by holding up two fingers. Two more drinks wouldn’t kill the guy, and I’d make sure he found his hotel room safely.