A chorus of cheers erupted around our table making the other guests dining at Archer’s turn to look. We were a rowdy bunch, but in our defense, none of us got out much. Even Harriet with no kids was a homebody and hardly ever went out drinking, but you only turn twenty-five once. Lydia was driving us all back home, so the rest of the girls were getting plastered with no complaints. Our designated driver found our debauchery al too amusing. Lydia rubbed her round belly, laughing, and encouraged her little sister to take more shots. Those two made me miss my little sister so much. Being the middle sister, like Jovie, had its perks, but her older sister was cool as hell; mine was a stuck-up bitch. Her younger sister was bartending for us; mine had run away. My sister, Meredith, hadn’t been heard from in ages.

“Okay, okay.” Jovie waved her hands dramatically as the waitress set down another round of shots. “Toasts! Cori is the baby around here, but has been through more shit than all of us combined. So, she’s a goddamn warrior!” Jovie’s foul mouth always got worse with alcohol. I nearly spit my drink at her yelling obscenities in the middle of a restaurant. “And it’s her birthday!” Another round of cheers. “So, happy twenty-fifth, Cori!”

We downed the shots and tears stung my eyes. It could have been the burn of Fireball, but it was probably my drunken state and my friend’s words. They had no idea what I had been through, not the whole truth.

Harriet was up next. “When I got here, I was lost and pitiful. But you bitches took me in. Made me family.” Harriet nodded at Rae who raised her glass in agreement. “Cori and I bonded in a way I never thought I would find outside of Rae. I love her so hard.” Harriet sniffled in her drunkenness, and I laughed. “So, Cori, thanks for being my best friend even if you called me a hippie bitch at first and made me win you over with at least a dozen cups of coffee. Happy birthday!” More shots.

“My turn.” Lydia lifted her water glass. “I have two little sisters, and now I have a shit ton of kids, but I adopted Cori too. What’s one more, right? Happy birthday, Cori. Now we need to find you a man.” Lydia gave me a teasing wink, sliding me another shot. I needed a lot of things, but a man was not one of them. A man was the reason for every bit of misery in my life.

The rest of the night went on the same way. Lots of toasts were repeated as we got more sloshed, and Lydia laughed her ass off at us, videoing our shenanigans occasionally. She was cute as could be with her little round baby bump. Her oldest son was nearly fourteen and her husband, Jacob, had brought another little boy into the relationship. It was a huge mess for a while, but they worked it out. Lydia adopted little Cohen as soon as she could. They hadn’t even finalized Cohen’s adoption when she found out they were having kid number three. They were so stinking cute.

Harriet and Briggs were just as adorable. They both swore they didn’t want kids, but every time they were around Rae’s or Jovie’s munchkins, they both got all starry eyed and touchy-feely. It would happen eventually, no matter how much they both denied it. Harriet’s strict rule against marriage was probably the reason Briggs hadn’t knocked her up yet. Jovie was talking about one more as well. Rae had stopped at one. Erica and her husband had adopted a teenager after years of not wanting kids. They were still disgustingly in love after twenty years together. I was the only single lady at the table. The more drunk my friends got, the more determined each of them were to find me the perfect mate. We were all parents, but I was still the outcast. They had amazing, doting men in their lives. I had my daughter, Axel, and a jailed ex-husband. My girls knew the gist of what had happened, but details were omitted to protect my sanity. They knew my scumbag ex got me beat within an inch of my life, but that was it. No one needed to know more any more details.

My younger sister had abandoned me, my older sister was too stuck-up to go out with me for my birthday, but I had my girls. Rae, Harriet, Jovie, Lydia, and Erica were all the support I needed. Despite how determined they were to find me a man, it wasn’t happening. I had tried, sort of, but I was too screwed up for a relationship. I was finally functioning in normal society without meltdowns and panic attacks. The last thing I needed was some guy wanting to touch me. It would only undo all my progress. The drunk ladies at the table had no idea the mess I was, as they kept on naming off men they knew were single while we drank ourselves into oblivion.

Lydia apparently got us all home because I woke up in my bed the next morning with a pounding headache. My mouth was dry as the Sahara. The sunlight slamming into my face was painful, even through my blankets and closed eyelids. Why had I agreed to go out with those no-good bitches? I was too jaded to go out drinking like a party girl. I had moved past party girl status my senior year of high school. Before my body could register any more pain, I bolted for the attached bathroom to puke up whatever I had been eating at Archer’s. My guess was whatever I ate was greasy as hell. I practically crawled into the shower, peeling off my clothes from the night before as I went. The warm water did nothing to wash away the stench of booze coming from my pores. I needed coffee. Lots of coffee and aspirin.

Once I was put together enough to leave the house, I went to pick up the munchkin from my mother. Dance class was in the evening, and it was my off day, so I planned on spending the day with my baby. Damn, I hated dance class. Ax loved it, of course, and I loved watching her. Unfortunately, the other mothers in the class made my life miserable. I was younger than all of them, but more importantly, I was not a trophy wife. I was not the “sit quietly and look pretty to further my husband’s career” type. Even when I was married to a prestigious college professor, I was just me. Richard never complained about my attitude or clothes, but looking back, I realized he tried to make me tone it down. Little things like suggesting an outfit or not taking me to work functions didn’t mean much at the time, but in hindsight he wanted me to fit his mold. Hell, he should have married the eldest Sharpe daughter if he wanted someone to further is career. I was never wild or irresponsible, but I wore what I wanted, said what I thought. Richard cared a lot less about fitting me into his mold once he started using, but he truly didn’t care about anything at that point, so his wife cursing at a Christmas party didn’t matter much.

Axel came out of Mom and Dad’s screeching. Her high-pitched squeal made my skin hurt. Really helpful, munchkin. She talked nonstop and loud about staying up late to watch Ghostbusters. She also ratted out my mother about feeding her a dinner of mostly cookies. Mom shrugged, claiming “grandparent’s rights” then kissed us both before letting us leave. Axel talked all the way home, giving me a play by play of her favorite movie and declaring her Halloween costume to be Dr. Venkman. The kid was definitely mine, no matter how much she looked like her father. The strawberry-blond hair could have come from my mom, but the deep blue eyes matched with her permanent tan came from Richard. Her sass and attitude were all mine. I was proud of her for it.

“Oscar in Ghostbusters doesn’t have a daddy, either.” Axel looked up from her coloring book on the front porch where we were sitting, soaking up some sun. “Dr. Venkman wants to be Oscar’s daddy, though.” She went back to coloring Batman pink with purple accents.

“Yeah, Munchkin, I guess he does. Wanna go get your dance clothes on?” Thankfully, she dropped the daddy subject to bolt into the house leaving a pile of crayons on the porch. I cleaned up, wondering if maybe she did need a male role in her life. Richard was obviously not an option considering he nearly got me killed. Once he did get out of jail, I didn’t want him near my baby. She did have my dad, but not full-time. Briggs and Harriet took her out sometimes so I could clean the house, and she loved playing with Briggs. Anytime I met them at the park, Briggs was pushing her on the swings, catching her on the slide. It made it painfully clear she needed something I couldn’t give her. Lots of girls grew up without a father and turned out fine. Ax was better than fine without Richard around, but something about the reminder of the missing piece was painful. Her parents should have been taking her to dance together, cooking family meals, and maybe even having more kids. Instead, I worked my ass off to make ends meet while trying to surround us with wonderful people to ease the blow of losing it all in one night.