Whiskey at Midnight, page 10
Wren pitches forward and gives Emma a kiss on the lips. It’s brief and as she ends it she sucks on Emma’s bottom lip. When she pulls back, Emma is licking her lip.
“Whiskey night?” Emma asks.
“Yeah. Reese is in there drinking.”
“Fun. Let’s go then.”
Whatever Emma was hoping for or expecting, Wren feels like she’s gotten it right. Sometimes all of the interactions between her and Emma feel like passing a test.
Emma is always a little freer when it’s not karaoke night. There’s no Cam to worry about, for once. They sit by Reese and drink, sometimes talking to Reese, other times just letting Reese talk to Taylor.
“So, a woman comes in today wanting to buy supplies for a project. Normal enough, right? She wants to create a scrapbook for her son’s senior year in college. She’s buying glitter and rainbow letters to paste in there. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that he probably wouldn’t like it. She seemed so excited,” Emma says.
The fact that Emma has her hand on Wren’s knee is Wren’s excuse for not noticing the camera in Reese’s hand until the flash goes off.
There are pictures tacked onto the walls all around the bar. Pictures of bar guests in various degrees somewhere between stone cold sober and wasted. Wren has never seen a picture meant for the wall taken in person. The thought that all of those pictures were taken when Reese is drunk makes Wren feel a little happy. They’ll look silly, if it does go up on the wall. Wren doesn’t have to see the picture or look in a mirror to know that Emma will look like a girly girl in it and Wren will look like an ink smudge with a human face.
Emma’s mouth is hung open, frozen in place by shock and panic. Her hand squeezes Wren’s knee painfully.
Right. Cam. Cam and Emma’s worrying about her feelings.
“If it goes up, it’ll look like two friends. Besides, Cam knows about us,” says Wren. She takes another sip of her whiskey and turns toward Reese. The drunk bartender tells a story about an awful bridal shower she had to attend years before. Wren doesn’t miss the look of guilt that flashes across Emma’s face.
Emma tries to make up for something. She buys Wren a candle from work that smells like a pine tree. She looks so anxious when she hands it over to Wren that the only sensible action is to go ahead and light it on the coffee table in Wren’s living room. Watching the flickering flame, Emma smiles like she’s done something right.
Emma takes on the job of drying Wren’s hair after they shower. Emma sits on the edge of the bed, usually in a borrowed robe, and softly sifts through Wren’s hair with a towel. Wren always sits on the floor, on top of a towel, nude.
All of this with Emma is the closest to a traditional sleepover that Wren has ever done. It makes Emma happy, or at least she looks peaceful after, so even though Wren doesn’t give a shit about wet hair she doesn’t say anything to Emma.
With September comes nice cool weather that Wren loves. She’d rather stand outside at the bar than stay in for karaoke, but she stays in anyway. She smokes a lot more though.
Cam wears large hoop earrings that swing when she walks. Mark is as attentive as ever, offering to get Cam a new drink when hers is almost finished. He can’t dance, not really, but he does it anyway. It’s the happiest Wren has seen Cam since the announcement that she got a big girl job.
Wren stands at the bar, waiting for Taylor to pour another vodka and cranberry for her and a beer for Emma. Mark waltzes up to get another drink for himself. Cam has decided to sober up for the night and is drinking water slowly. He leans in toward Wren and without preamble begins to tell her about his plans for Christmas.
“I want to take her on vacation. Maybe Connecticut. I haven’t decided that part yet. Natural trees, not that artificial crap, some roses in the room. Just sweep her off her feet,” he says. He stands over Wren like a giant while she holds the fresh drinks in her hands. Her palms grow cold and wet from the condensation.
“It’s going to be perfect,” he says. He grabs his drink and walks back toward Cam.
Wren doesn’t celebrate Christmas. She hasn’t even thought about it. It’s still so far away. Emma hasn’t mentioned the holiday either. Emma is probably the type to go crazy for it. She probably has a ridiculous Santa sweater for the occasion. All of this means Wren will have to celebrate. She’ll have to buy Emma a gift and drink eggnog. She won’t buy decorations. That would take it too far.
Outside, with a cigarette between her lips and Emma by her side, she tells Emma about Mark’s romantic plans for Cam. A mistake that she realizes at once. She places a hand on Emma’s elbow, squeezes once. She has never had such a loose lipped moment. She wants to punch herself in the face.
Emma takes the reminder of how happy Mark and Cam are about as well as can be expected. She kisses Wren’s neck while they dance and pushes her hands under Wren’s shirt to touch bare skin.
On nights that Wren drives them to the bar, they rarely make it to Wren’s apartment before Emma asks her to pull over. Then, she’s tugging on Wren’s arm until they both go into the backseat, much too small for what Emma has in mind. Emma attacks Wren’s body with kisses and a bruising grip that holds her in place. It’s faster now, now that Emma knows exactly what works for Wren.
Emma’s breath smells like pineapples. Her kisses are needy. When she whispers in Wren’s ear, it’s to tell her what she wants to do to Wren later on. More than once, it seems like Wren has broken Emma. Emma who used to never be able to say tits without blushing. Or maybe it was Cam who broke her.
Wren puts Emma to bed one night when Emma has had way too much to drink. Emma had fallen asleep in the cab, her head tipping from side to side. Despite the deadweight of Emma, it was easy enough to pull her into Wren’s apartment. It’s nothing like having to haul Steve around. Wren kisses Emma’s sweaty forehead, pushes the hair back out of her face. Wren leaves only long enough to pour a glass of water to leave on Emma’s side of the bed.
It’s becoming a little too cool to sleep naked, but Wren does it anyway. In that moment right before falling asleep, when the only thing she can feel is the mattress beneath her and the cover above her, Wren feels weightless.
“You’re a good girlfriend,” Emma whispers.
Wren’s eyes open again. Emma’s somewhere between being awake and asleep. Her breathing is shallow and steady. And then Emma opens her eyes and smiles at Wren. It’s a sleepy smile, unguarded. Emma falls asleep not long after. Little snores come from her side of the bed. Wren stays up for some time. She smokes a few cigarettes and stares at the ceiling. It’s the first time Emma has called Wren her girlfriend.
Wren plans another date. They’ve gone out countless times since the sushi date, nights that Wren will never be able to forget, but Emma is a traditional kind of girl who needs to be asked out every so often. Getting drunk in bars, no matter how fun, just won’t do it in the long run.
Emma loves surprises. It’s not a particularly earth-shattering revelation. Emma was probably the little girl who grew up hoping each year that she might receive a pony as a birthday gift. Because Emma is that ridiculous, even now, hopes for things that most people have given up on.
Wren will never have to buy her a pony. That dream has probably vanished to be replaced by something else. But on a rainy day, when something is wrong and apologies don’t work anymore, a day petting and riding horses would probably get whoever Emma is with out of the dog house.
It’s this love of surprises that works in Wren’s favor. All she has to do is tell Emma not to make other plans for such and such afternoon and Emma is like jelly in Wren’s hands. She wants to know what she should wear because wearing the wrong outfit could potentially ruin whatever Wren is planning. Emma thanks Wren in bed, over and over, even though she still isn’t sure what they’re going to be doing. It’s almost a little sad, in the end, when all Wren has planned is a picnic and Emma has been going out of her mind for days, wondering what they’re going to do.
And there’s a reason that people always talk about picnics like they’re such a romantic idea. Sitting outside, holding hands, sharing grapes or apple slices. Leaving the whole world behind and only looking into the eyes of another person. People have always romanticized nature, ignored the pesky bug bites and stench of sweaty people. That’s why Wren decides on it. It’s just hokey enough that Emma will have been wanting to go on one for years.
Wren gets it spectacularly wrong, which means it’s exactly the kind of picnic someone like her would enjoy. Not someone like Emma. She doesn’t make food to bring. She doesn’t bring any cups. So when they’re sitting in the park on a blanket, they have to pass the bottle of wine back and forth.
Wren rummages around in her backpack until she pulls out a pack of crackers and cheese. It’s not quite right, but Emma smiles and goes along with it.
“No one has ever taken me on a picnic before,” Emma says, shyly. And that was kind of the point after all.
When they’ve almost had all of the wine, Emma hiccups and giggles. “How did you get the idea to do this?”
“I don’t know,” says Wren. “It just happened.”
“Well, thank you.” Emma moves a little closer and takes Wren’s hand into her own.
The picnic is also the moment that marks the beginning of the end for Wren. A bouquet of flowers that sits on a coffee table until the petals begin to fall off is one thing. A gesture that is so small it might be written off as meaningless. But plans and surprises are like gifts. They say sentimental things like: I’m thinking of you. Or, I want you to be happy. That’s all a little too much, too soon.
Emma is beautiful when she’s happy. She can’t quite control the smile that erupts on her face. She tosses her hair back and the sun’s rays catch it just right. It’s one of those things that Wren has never been able to catch in a photograph. She’s never taken one of Emma because it would be useless to even try. And that’s what it really comes down to for Wren. Happiness is a lot like hope and she’s never been much for hope or trying.
Emma starts holding Wren’s hand a lot more. It’s no longer the desperate pulling that usually means they need to find a secluded spot right that fucking second. It’s calm and just for the sake of touching. Their hands fit together a little too well. Emma rubs her thumb across Wren’s hand when she holds it, absently, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She finds a classic rock song that she actually kind of likes, that is about relationships but not sex, and sings it at karaoke for Wren. Wren’s never liked the song, usually changes the radio station if it comes on. But it doesn’t mention the dreaded L word and Emma is pretty cute up at the front, attempting to dance while she sings.
It just so happens that Emma sings the damn song on a night that Cam has graced them all with her presence. She hadn’t come to every night of karaoke that month. She doesn’t look happy about it, but she also doesn’t shoot daggers at Wren. By the bridge of the song, she’s preoccupied by Mark anyway. The look on Steve’s face during it all is like everything might not be fucked up after all, like maybe everything is going according to some plan.
It’s also the night that Wren drags Emma to the bar for a shot and happens to look up above her head. And there it is, freshly tacked on the wall, the picture of her and Emma. Wren’s eyebrows furrow at the sight of it, and a scowl threatens to show, but then she smiles. Emma looks so natural in the picture, in that goddamn stupid shirt, and Wren looks a little too invested in whatever Emma is saying. Wren has no plans of pointing it out to Emma. The freaked out expression on her face when it was taken is enough to stop up any instinctive reaction to point it out. But then Wren has stared at it too long and Emma looks up to see what has Wren’s attention.
“I love it,” Emma says.
“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” is all Wren can think to say.
“Where’s lover girl?” Steve giggles, actually fucking giggles. He’s been so subdued about it all lately that Wren doesn’t even smack him for it.
“At work,” Wren says, then frowns. When did she start knowing Emma’s schedule? She’ll hear all about it later. Whether there were any interesting customers, if Ed was in a good mood or not. It’s not so bad, but there are only so many times Wren can cover the fact that she still can’t tell the difference between charms and pendants.
It’s another slow lunch for Steve and Wren. So slow that Steve has devised a game to see how many straws he can throw at the hostess without her noticing. Wren doesn’t play. It’s the same hostess who keeps seating her with particularly horrible guests. It’d be more forgivable, less obvious, if the girl didn’t skip Steve to seat Wren or give Wren those little hateful looks whenever she walks by. She doesn’t even know the girl’s name.
“So what are you two doing for Halloween?” Steve doesn’t giggle this time.
Wren rolls her eyes. Steve is the only man Wren has ever known who tries to wear as little clothing as possible for Halloween. The time will come when he runs out of ideas and just runs around in a thong. He’s not unattractive, but Wren has promised herself that when it happens, she will be far away.
She and Emma don’t have plans. At least, nothing has been agreed upon yet. But even if they had, Wren wouldn’t tell Steve. Better to run into him later in the night than to have to deal with him from the start.
Even though Emma wasn’t around to hear Steve talking about Halloween, it’s as if she has somehow telepathically picked up on it. She bounces when they go to a store and the cheap costumes are out. She considers the ramifications of various outfits. Dressing up as a cow might be funny for one picture, but the possibility of a drunk guy calling her a literal cow in an attempt to be funny is too high. Superheroes are popular, which means there are a lot to choose from but also means she’ll inevitably run into someone else dressed as the same character.
It’s all a bit foreign to Wren. The years she has dressed up she threw something together last minute. She has never tried to win a costume contest, never thought about doing the holiday justice, as Emma puts it. Halloween is a night to get drunk and maybe watch a scary movie. Emma, however, is shocked when Wren says so.
“No, no. Halloween is a full-on experience. First, pumpkin flavored coffee. You have to have that. And the air needs to be a little cool and crisp so you can walk outside and smell it. Let it fill your lungs. At least one scary movie must be watched, but early on in the day. Substitute an older movie if you can’t handle the thrills. A Halloween episode of your favorite show can work in a pinch. Then, outfit time. Get into your costume, apply makeup, take a few pictures. All of that while you listen to appropriate music. Go out for awhile, laugh at people who have utterly failed. Finish the night with some pumpkin cupcakes, maybe apple cider. And each year, you have to get a different token to celebrate,” says Emma. She barely stops to breathe.
“Token?” asks Wren.
“It can be something small like a ring with a spider on it. Or maybe a little figurine of a black cat. But you have to get something,” Emma explains.
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“Nielsen tradition.”
Wren doesn’t buy a token because she’s not a Nielsen. She also doesn’t join Emma for Emma’s beginning of Halloween festivities. Instead, Wren works a lunch shift. The restaurant is dead all afternoon. Most people apparently don’t go out to eat lunch on Halloween. Wren kind of expected it and spends her time out back smoking and responding to Emma’s increasingly frequent text messages while she watches a horror movie alone. A new fact: Emma is easily scared.
Emma’s not the only person who goes nuts for Halloween. The bar is decked out in hanging spider webs and black streamers. Cartoonish pictures of black cats hang on the bathroom doors. Taylor and Reese are dressed as gangsters. Reese keeps pulling on her suspenders between pouring drinks. In a fit of frustration, Taylor takes off the hat she’s been wearing and tosses it into a room that must be the office. There’s a third bartender there tonight. A tall man with dark skin dressed as a superhero runs around the bar, taking drink orders and passing them onto the two girl bartenders.
Wren hasn’t bought a costume. It seems a little silly to buy something you can only wear once. She’s pulled a plaid skirt and white dress shirt from her closet. Even with just the skirt and shirt on, Wren had stared at herself in the mirror with a disapproving look. It’s not a real costume, but she wanted to take it off immediately. Tis the season, though. So Wren had put her hair into braided pigtails, like Reese, and called it good enough.
It shouldn’t have been good enough for Emma, who walks in one drink later wearing a pink and white bodice and fairy wings that bounce when she steps. She smiles when she sees Wren and bites her lip. It’s clear from the look on her face that she shares a fantasy with a good percentage of the population. That’s going to make it all easier.
Emma fidgets when they go out to smoke and Wren automatically goes to her spot in the alley. The cat calls of the random drunk people standing by the front door die out as soon as they are out of sight. Emma clenches Wren’s wrist between her fingers, looks up and down the alley. When she looks up at Wren, she looks embarrassed. Of course, the movie still has her nervous. Wren pulls her wrist away and drapes her arm over Emma’s shoulder. Another thing that Wren has managed to do right based on Emma’s grin.
It’s not much, but Wren pulls Reese to the side when there’s a spare moment and tells her that she’ll be paying for Emma all night. It’s the sort of thing she could do, but never say. To tell Emma about it, to voice it, would be too weird. The fourth time Emma says Halloween is her favorite holiday, after downing a bright orange shot, Wren starts to like the night herself.
Cam arrives on Mark’s arm. She’s dressed as a cat, with some makeup on her face and cat ears while she wears a black leotard. Mark’s a dog. An honest to God dog with ears and everything. Wren can’t keep the sneer off her face and leaves to order another drink. Emma doesn’t notice Wren’s reaction or disappearance, which is good because she’s hugging Cam like there hasn’t been any weirdness between them.
