And to think, I was just starting to like this city.
“You seem nervous,” Melody says, and she’s right.
We’re walking through the streets of the Upper West Side, holding hands, but my mind is somewhere else. If anxiety has one benefit, it’s that you analyze everything. Once my hormones subsided, it dawns on me that Lily was trying to tell me something. Naturally, as a horny male focused on Melody, I was too distracted to listen to her. Sex really will be the fall of man.
“Something isn’t right,” I say. “She was trying to tell me something important, but I wouldn’t listen.”
“What do you think it was?”
“I don’t know, and that’s what’s scaring me.”
Melody rubs my back, and we walk in silence for a little bit. It dawns on me that we’re on our second date and Melody is about to meet my family. Well, what’s left of it. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like we’re moving too fast. Maybe she was right about following the universe.
We turn the corner and see the lights of the bar halfway down the block. As we get closer I become dismayed at the clientele hanging around in front. The short sleeved Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts that end just above the knees, these are the guys that wouldn’t hesitate to sick their fathers lawyers on you. A couple of them catcall Melody as we wait in line but she ignores them Security checks our ID’s and we head inside, through the haze of Calvin Klein cologne and cigarette smoke. The entrance is narrow, the bar stretches to the back where it opens up into a restaurant. As we move through the bar I pick up random pieces of conversation.
“…I don’t understand why he swiped me if he didn’t want kids, my profile was very clear.”
“…the quality of the beer doesn’t match the prices, how the fuck do you ruin a Miller Genuine Draft?”
“…this is the year Brady falls off and the Jets win the division baby. Book it.”
At the end of the bar, I start scanning the tables for Lily and John. It’s just a mass of people talking over each other. Remember in Titanic, when Jack slipped under the water and the camera zoom out on Rose in the massive group of people? Just absolute bedlam.
“MILES, DARLING,” a slurring voice booms above the others. I couldn’t stop any quicker if I’d hit a brick wall. I close my eyes and pray that someone else in the bar shares my name, and that someone in his life—anyone—gets drunk and slurs his name like a Connecticut blue blood. But, as I continue to learn, life doesn’t work that way.
I slowly turn around and am greeted by my mother. She stands there, swaying slowly in her designer dress, her trusty Louis Vuitton hand bag dangling from her wrist like a baton. In her other hand, she holds a glass of Chardonnay. I can always tell what she’s been drinking by how she reacts. Wine means she’s feeling warm and fuzzy. Hard liquor means hard truths, and everyone at the table should strap in for a rough night.
I take a second to examine how quickly my night has gone to shit.
An hour ago I was having ice cream with a woman I’m falling more in love with by the second. I had confirmed that, yes, my penis does in fact still work, and holds no lingering resentment towards me for months of neglect. We were going to come here for drinks—laughing, drinking, and winking at each other—the alcohol fueling our hormones to a critical point. We’d then excuse ourselves and go back to her place, where I’d hopefully last long enough in bed to not embarrass myself. Afterward, I would probably cry and tell her about my family, then head back to the hotel to eat junk food and ponder the future. Even with the crying, that’s still a solid night.
Nowhere was this impromptu family reunion in the cards. Melody is oblivious to what’s going on, and I fight the urge to grab her hand and jet out of the bar. Just beyond my mother, Lily stands grinning like a spectator at the zoo that just happen to show up for feeding time. I know she tried to tell me, but right now she’s the only one I can fairly project my anger upon.
My mother stumbles her way between tables before pulling me into an awkward embrace. I can smell the alcohol, and it takes me back to elementary school and all of the awkward school events she’d attend while drunk—leaving me to hope that we could get out with our reputations intact. We were already on welfare, we didn’t need the indignity of being labeled the dysfunctional, alcoholic family on top of that.
“It feels so good to see you,” she hiccups in my ear. I mouth apologies to Melody over her shoulder, and she nods that it’s ok.
“Mom, this is Melody,” I say, very slowly—since I can’t tell how drunk she is.
She gives her the once over, the light illuminating off her eyeballs like glass. “Well, she’s definitely an upgrade,” she says, before shaking Melody’s hand. “Helen. It’s nice to meet you.”
In my head I’m calculating if I have enough money in my account to beat an assault charge that seems inevitable right now. I figure that I have enough money for bail, but going to trial would be a bit too costly.
Why does every greeting have to come with a barb? Introductions are made to Lily before my mother orders another drink. John correctly guesses that that the tension is rising and escorts Melody to the bar to get a drink. Lily decides she wants to smoke, and I follow her outside, and the last visual I have is our mother downing her drink.
It’s gonna be a long night.
Fourteen
Drink Together Sink Together
“You set me up,” I say as Lily struggles to light her cigarette.
She finally lights it and takes a long drag, the smoke filling her lungs as she comes up with a response, “Don’t be so dramatic, it’s not like I led you into a Mob ambush.” She blows a cloud of smoke in my face for good measure.
“You knew I was on a date, and I’m being dramatic?”
“As I recall, I called you to give you a heads up.” She pulls her phone out and puts it in my face. I stare at her call log, showing the time and duration of her phone call earlier. “And what did you do?” She mimes checking a list, “Ah yes, says here you were too busy getting your balls played with by your new friend in there.”
Something about her tone makes me nervous, like it’s more than me blowing her warning off that’s getting under her skin.
“I see what’s going on here.”
“You don’t see shit.”
“You’re threatened by Melody.” Lily rolls her eyes and scoffs, an obvious tell that confirms my suspicions. “I go out with her, like you told me to, and now you’re in your feelings because there’s someone else that I care about. Does my little ‘distraction’ threaten you?”
The other smokers are slowly moving closer, trying to be subtle but failing—our family soap opera too good to ignore. “Lily, I need you to get her out of here.”
“Our mother needs us.” She takes a long drag, “Besides, this should make the night interesting.”
If I made up a list of what Helen’s presence would make our night, interesting would crack the top one hundred. Interesting is the NBA considering adding a four point line. This was the equivalent of putting a herd of gazelle on the track during the Daytona 500.