Samuel didn’t come back that day. He didn’t come back the next day either. He didn’t come back the next week or the week after that. Not that I had been keeping count but it had been exactly twenty-two days and he hadn’t come back. It was getting colder outside and the leaves were falling. I wrote. I went grocery shopping. I had dinners regularly with Emma and David. I helped Emma at her studio. I went to the gym. And I slept.

And he didn’t come back.

Not that I blamed him. I mean, the man kissed me and I kicked him out; why would he come back? I wasn’t exactly inviting.

I went on with life. It was better this way. I didn’t need those kinds of distractions. Not now, maybe not ever. I only received one mystery text after he left my house.

What did they know? It’s not like they knew me. It’s not like they knew what I needed or what I wanted. For Christ’s sake, I didn’t even know who they were! It could be some elaborate joke and I definitely didn’t have time for that.

But enough of that. I was scheduled to meet Emma in a half hour for drinks so I needed to get moving. And at that point, I needed a drink.

* * *

Emma arrived for our little girls’ night ten minutes early and to no one’s surprise, I wasn’t dressed yet and had also cracked open some wine. She found me sipping it from a coffee mug seated on the edge of my bed.

“Where are your pants?” she asked.

“I felt better without them,” I said.

“Does this mean we aren’t going?” she asked, her voice growing angry.

“Oh, we are definitely going. I need to go. Could you maybe choose some pants for me?” I asked, clearly establishing myself as the mess of a friend in this duo.

“Here.” She rolled her eyes.

She chose well though. Snug, skinny jeans that were both cute and comfortable. I hopped up and pulled them on. “Do you think I made a mistake making Samuel leave?” I asked.

“Do you think you made a mistake?” Emma asked in return.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“Do what?” she asked as I gazed into the mirror, applying mascara. If I was going out, I was going to try not to look like a garbage monster. I had put on the black lace top Emma wanted me to wear before and my bangs were actually cooperating much to my surprise.

“That thing where you turn everything back on me and make me start thinking about stuff I don’t want to think about instead of just answering my questions,” I said.

“D, if I said yes, would that help? If I said no, would that help? The point is, it doesn’t really matter what I think. All that matters is what you think,” Emma said.

She was always too full of wisdom. I hated it when she made good points. “Emma, can you do me a favor tonight?” I asked.

“Sure, anything,” she said.

“Let me get drunk. But don’t let me do anything stupid,” I said.

“Define stupid.” She laughed.

“Don’t let me call Samuel. Don’t let me get taken away by any strangers.”

“Deal.” She smiled.

And so we were off.

* * *

The bar was a little crowded given it was a Saturday night and everyone was out somewhere at this hour. The music was great, people were dancing, and I made a beeline for the two open stools at the bar. I ordered the first round of drinks and turned to Emma.

“Cheers, Emma!” I said.

“To new beginnings,” Emma returned.

With a clink of our glasses, we both downed about half of our drinks respectively.

“So how are you and David doing?” I asked.

“Oh, we’re good. Great, in fact. I think I really picked a winner. I’ve been trying to convince him we should start trying to have a baby,” she said.

My hand did what it always does and took rest over my belly button. She knew I had a miscarriage but she didn’t know what came after.

“That’s great, Emma!” I said, trying everything to stifle the frog in my throat.

“Yeah, I just think it’s time,” she said, and after that her words got a little fuzzy. I looked out over the crowds of scattered people. Some were dancing, some were playing pool in the corner, and some were just in huddles, chatting and laughing. I had always been a people watcher. I studied their faces and tried to make guesses about their real lives. Sometimes I made up entire back stories about them in my head. I pulled myself back into the now and Emma’s voice cleared up.

“I think you’ll make a great mother, Emma,” I said, smiling at my friend, thinking about all the times she was there for me. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until I moved here. I definitely meant what I said to her just then. She smiled back at me. “Okay, no more sappy, let’s do a shot!” I said, clapping my hands together. I needed to move this evening in a different direction. I shot my hand up in the air to signal the bartender before Emma could object.

“Oh my god, I may need a minute for this,” she said, staring at the shot glass of clear liquid courage I handed her.

“Woman up!” I said, holding my shot up in salute. I downed mine in one gulp in time to see Emma gingerly sipping hers. She had always been a bit reserved, even in our younger years. She never broke curfew, never tried drugs, never drank too much. I admired such self-discipline. This was probably why she was always the one taking care of me. Not that I ever got so out of hand that it was too much. Maybe it was time I did that.

An hour later, I was dancing. I was in the middle of the dance floor, wiggling all my body parts, still holding the empty shot glass from my sixth one in my hand. Emma was close by, wiggling a little less than I was. Everything was a little fuzzy and warm. This was good, really good.

A guy was dancing his way through the crowd toward me. I made eye contact with him and I wasn’t resisting. He squeezed in next to me and started grinding against me. On any other night, I would have pushed him away but tonight, I just didn’t care. I leaned into him and continued to move my body against his. He swayed his hips in sync with mine and wrapped his hand around my waist. He was a pretty good dancer from what I could tell but it wasn’t as if I had a lot of balance or awareness at that point. It was so fun. Why didn’t I do this more often? Hell, I wasn’t even thinking about Samuel. This guy was pretty hot, I think. My vision was slightly compromised, but I was pretty sure he was decent looking or I’m sure Emma would have put a stop to it. I spun around and rubbed my ass against him. That was how you did it when I was younger and I assumed it was still appropriate. His response was positive. I spun back around to face him and he was smiling at me.

Just then, I leaned in and planted a kiss on his mouth. He kissed me back and the next thing I knew we were full on making out on the dance floor. I didn’t even know his name. Then again, even if I did, I definitely wouldn’t remember it tomorrow. It was fine.

And then I pulled back and threw up on his shoes. And everything went black. These are those moments you internalize, the kind that define you, the kind that make you question everything, especially why you just did what you did. That was just what being drunk did to you. All I could see were blips of light and a blurry image here and there. I think I was actually using my feet even though I couldn’t feel them. And then all I felt was the familiar warmth of my own bed. Drunken sleep washed over me and I did not dream.