Page 8 of Tangled
“Fuck him, Liv,” Clara chimes in again. “That guy was a douche if he didn’t know what he had and let you go.” The tequila is definitely hitting us all as the honesty in our words becomes far too real.
“Correction. He didn’t let me go. I left,” I hiccup as I signal the bartender for another round of shots, twisting so quickly that my deep red hair almost smacks Perry in the face.
“Yeah, because you walked in on him banging his secretary!” Clara shouts so loudly that the entire bar turns their heads in our direction.
“Jesus, Clara! Shut the fuck up! I don’t need the entire town to know why I’m home, okay? It’s embarrassing enough that I couldn’t keep a man happy… I don’t need everyone else knowing that too.”
I know the alcohol is hitting me hard when I start to drop F-bombs and feel the need to fight someone.
“Don’t. Don’t play that game where you put all the blame on yourself, Olivia.” Perry cuts me off while pointing her finger in my face. The tequila is definitely hitting her too. “Trevor has control of where he puts his dick. And by him choosing to put it somewhere other than you, that’s on him. That isnotyour fault.”
I feel the tears start to bubble up again but decide to drown them in more beer. I’ve cried enough over the last week, mostly on the long drive home from northern California back to Emerson Falls, and I got the worst of it out earlier with my mom. But tonight, I refuse to give Trevor any more of my tears.
I stare across the bar, observing the surrounding crowd, wondering what demons everyone else in here is fighting tonight. Most people gravitate to alcohol for one of two reasons: to celebrate, or like in my case, to forget. I know I’ll be okay. I’ll land on my feet like I always do. But tomorrow I’ll pull myself together. Tonight, I’m giving myself permission to ditch some of the pressure I feel pushing down on my shoulders, the pressure that’s only there because of my own perfectionist tendencies and a ticking time clock.
“Earth to Liv! Are you still there?” Amy waves her hand in front of my face, trying to gain my attention back. “She looks like my kids right now when they zone out watching Paw Patrol,” she turns and mumbles to Clara and Perry from the corner of her mouth, her light-brown shoulder-length hair swishing as she moves.
“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?” I shake my head and turn back to face the three people who know me better than myself.
Amy, Clara, Perry, and I met our freshman year in high school in our first-period Geography class. The four of us sat at the same table and instantly bonded. From that moment on, there was nothing that could have penetrated our friendship—not boys or money, or leaving to go to college.
Clara and Perry both left Emerson Falls for school, like me, but Amy stayed behind and married her high school sweetheart. She still went to college, but now she stays home and takes care of her three kids under the age of five. Her husband works in finance and can support the family on his income alone, but Amy rarely gets adult interaction. The fact that she came out tonight to support me is shocking in itself. Of course, the three of us won’t mention the giant stain on her mint green shirt or the fact that she’s wearing two different colored socks, because Amy can barely keep her head on straight these days. She needs tonight out as much as the rest of us.
Clara is an advertising executive now who travels for work. She manages multiple accounts for her company and enjoys her never boring single life. She’s also the most outspoken of the four of us and will beat anyone to a pulp if our happiness is compromised. It’s a good thing Trevor is still back in California, or she’d be on his front doorstep waiting to punch him in the balls like that girl in the movie, What Happens in Vegas… you know the one who’s Cameron Diaz’s best friend that punches her ex in the nuts when he answers the door and she yells in his face, “You know why!”? Yeah, that’s Clara.
Perry majored in business and married her college sweetheart before returning to Emerson Falls to start their family. She’s the typical type-A mom who always has her shit together and makes parenting and marriage look like a breeze. The woman could run the world from her phone, along with her parenting and lifestyle blog she runs from home. She’s always put together, never shows her stress, and the three of us genuinely think she’s a robot. But she’s our robot friend who can seriously schedule or plan anything with the press of a button. And we love her for it.
“So what happens now, Olivia?” Amy continues, taking a sip of her strawberry daiquiri.
One of the cocktail waitresses comes by with another tray full of tequila shots.
“We drink… that’s what happens now.” I smile through clenched teeth, hoping the alcohol kicks in quickly to numb some of the pain. I certainly feel better after letting out my innermost thoughts with my mom, but a little alcohol will definitely speed along the process.
I know that leaving was the right thing because I would never tolerate being cheated on and sticking around. But it doesn’t make the sting go away any faster. I’m a strong, confident woman who doesn’t need a man to be happy. And realistically, Trevor and I haven’t been happy for a few months now, mainly since we moved in together. It’s not like I was asking for a ring, but I felt like maybe the commitment was too much for him. Whatever. I don’t want a man who runs from commitment. In fact, I don’t want a man for anything other than what’s in his pants for a very long time. Maybe some time on my own, or some revenge sex, is exactly what the doctor ordered. My mother may be on to something.
The four of us toss back two more shots before the night really starts to turn.
“So you start at the high school on Monday then?” Clara slurs her words across the table at me.
“Yup. Mr. Kirk won the lottery and just quit. The timing couldn’t have worked out better for me,” I chuckle as I start to sway to the music while seated on my bar stool.
“No shit,” Clara agrees. “If I won the lottery, you bitches would never see me again, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, don’t act like you’d ditch us,” Perry chimes in, a tad more drunk than I’ve seen her in years. She’s mixing wine and tequila, so I can only imagine what she’s going to feel like in the morning. “You’d have to give us all some of your winnings so we could travel around the world with you. You’d end up too lonely otherwise. You know you can’t live without us,” she blows a kiss in Clara’s direction, as Clara reaches up to grab it and then smothers her mouth with her hand. The four of us burst out in laughter.
“You’re right. I love you, bitches! In fact, I think I might miss you too much if I go to the bathroom by myself. Who’s coming with me?” She shouts as she stands and tries to gain her balance.
Amy looks a shade of light green as she rises from her stool and grips the round table we’re sitting around. She’s only taken two shots, but I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen her drink.
“Oh no, I know that look. That’s senior prom waiting to happen all over again. You guys better get her to the bathroom now,” I say while pointing my finger at her.
“Shit. Come on, Amy. Let’s hurry,” Perry lures her away while Clara supports her on the other side by her arm.
I watch my friends usher Amy down the hall before I turn my attention back to the T.V. above the bar as today’s headlines scroll across the screen from the local news.
It feels surreal being back in Emerson Falls. Besides coming home for holidays and the occasional vacation, my visits have been scarce since I left for U.C. Davis and never looked back. A full academic scholarship took me almost six hours away from home, but I loved every minute. College was the challenge I craved in high school, where I could finally channel my inner math nerd and find people who shared my passion for education. Becoming a math teacher was always my aspiration, and when an intern position opened up near Davis right after I graduated, I took it at the ripe old age of twenty-two.
I just never thought that fate would lead me back home to teach at my alma mater nine years later. But here I am, one weekend left between me and a new job, walking into a classroom full of kids more than a month into the school year. I certainly have my work cut out for me, even if this is my ninth year of teaching.