Girls Gone Drunk
Kenna
Tonight is getting wild fast. Sophia, Maggie, and I rack up quite a tab. It starts with Sophia taking a shot for men being assholes. Then Maggie adds a shot for each year she wasted with Brayden. That sparks me to wave the bartender over, lining up five more shots to her four, one each for the years I have wasted by waiting on Jake.
“What do you mean nine years wasted?” Maggie asks curiously.
It dawns on me that Maggie knows I’m with Jake, but I have never discussed how long we have been together.
With alcohol coursing through me, I tell her, “For nine years, Jake and I have been together. For nine years, I’ve waited for a proposal and wedding that he has made clear will never come.”
“You and Jake? That long? He won’t marry you?” she questions.
“In a nutshell.” I take one of the shots lined up before me. “It never bothered me before, but it sure as hell does now.”
“Oh hell, that deserves a bottle, not just a shot.” Maggie’s words seem to run together. She is moving around a lot, even though we are sitting on bar stools, or maybe it’s just me.
Dina quickly cuts us all off after some dancing and our shots.
Thoroughly drunk, somehow the three of us still manage to stumble our way to the car in our heels without falling, Dina laughing all the way. Sober as usual, she finds our drunkenness more entertaining than any drink she could have. Given how her parents passed away, I understand why she prefers to be our sober sister. Losing two people so tragically to a drunk driver, alcohol is not something she wants to consume regularly.
Only a little way down the road, Sophia begs Dina to pull the car over. The alcohol going down is always fun; coming up, not so much. It takes real drunken focus—if you can really have such a thing—to keep me from joining Sophia on the roadside. My mantra for the ride home is: Do not throw up, Kenna Jean.
We didn’t even finish the shots we lined up, but the three of us are definitely three sheets to the wind. Maybe we should go out more often, build up a better tolerance. Right now, it shows how little we typically drink.
On the way to Sophia’s, Dina makes a phone call. We pull up to Sophia’s house and instantly realize that call was to Harrison. Maggie is half-hanging out of her passenger window like a dog on a car ride, loving the wind.
“Oh, biiig brutha, sooooooo gooood to seee youuuuu,” Maggie slurs as she drags out each word.
After he watches Sophia stumble out of the car, he quickly scoops her up. Then he whispers something in her ear that instantly relaxes her into his hold. The embrace is full of genuine care. I wonder if there is something between those two.
“Is Mags staying with me or going with you, D?” Harrison asks.
“Oh no, I got her. You got your hands full with that one; trust me. Jake is waiting for me to get Kenna home to him, and Mags will just crash with Ryder and me. Good luck, bro,” Dina replies, shaking her head at all of us.
Jake is waiting at home for me. Ha! As if Jake would be waiting on me for something. If I wasn’t so damn drunk, I would make him wait a hell of a lot longer for me to get home.
***
Jake
Dina texted me not too long ago, letting me know they were on their way from Sophia’s. Normally, I would be outside, waiting to escort Kenna in. I know she is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. I’m so hurt and angry that I stubbornly stay inside, though.
When they pull up, Maggie is screaming something I can’t quite decipher out of the car window. She is obviously inebriated. No, she is FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition. Tomorrow is definitely going to suck for her. I’m glad Ryder is my neighbor and won’t be upset by her current noise level.
I hear Dina say, “Kenna, hold on a minute. Let me help you inside. Maggie, shut the hell up!” She is definitely getting annoyed with those two.
The next thing I hear is a loud, crashing thud. I rush out the door to the front porch and find Kenna face down on our steps. Dina’s running toward us as I am scooping up my very drunk girlfriend.
“I’m so sorry, Jake. I was trying to settle and quiet Mags.”
“No need to be sorry. Thanks for bringing her home.”
As we cross the threshold, Kenna flips out.
“Put me down, asshole. I can walk.”
“Okay, you’re obviously an angry drunk tonight,” I state, setting her on her feet.
“This isn’t about me being drunk. This is about you wasting nine years of my life.” She starts to sob, shocking the hell out of me. “My love isn’t enough, never has been. You don’t love me enough. We’re doomed, Jakey.” She ascends the stairs ungracefully as I follow in case she stumbles or falls.
Her words cut deeply. Drunk or not, the truth lies in her uninhibited speech, ringing through my ears, “You don’t love me enough.”
I want to rip my heart out of my chest. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.
As she changes into one of my T-shirts and goes to brush her teeth, I know, drunk or not, she needs to feel just how much I do love her.