Page 63 of Notes About Vodka

Tears well up in my eyes as I just wait for my mom to speak.

Suddenly, Tony sidles up next to me, a greasy smile on his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, his eyes lingering on my tear-streaked cheeks. “You look like you could use some cheering up. I could make it better, you know,” he adds with a smirk, his hand reaching out to touch my arm.

I flinch, pulling away, disgust twisting in my stomach. Before I can find my voice to tell him to back off, Val steps in, his expression dark and hard.

“Tony, get lost,” Val says sharply. “She doesn’t need your crap.”

Tony’s smile falters, and his eyes narrow. “Just trying to help,” he mutters, but there’s a sneer in his tone. He gives me one last, lingering look before slinking away, his presence leaving a greasy residue on the air.

The moment he’s gone, I collapse into Val’s arms, my sobs coming hard and fast. I don’t tell him about my mom—I can’t. I just bury my face in his chest, letting the tears flow, and he holds me tight, his embrace strong and steady, his silence the only comfort I need.

After a while, Val gently suggests we leave. “Let’s go to our favorite bar,” he says softly, brushing a tear from my cheek. “You need a break, Laura. I’ll go tell Dante there’s an emergency and you can’t go on stage.”

I nod, but my heart isn’t in it. “I want to,” I reply, my voice shaky. “But I need to get home. I need to call Skip.”

Val raises an eyebrow, concerned. “Why Skip?”

"Skip’s been with me forever,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “He just...knows what to do. He’s always been there when things get tough. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” I pause, thinking about Rhea. “I’d call Rhea, but... she gets upset when things get like this. It’s too much for her. She doesn’t handle it well, and I don’t want to pull her into it again.”

“Ok, I’ll leave it for now,” Val nods, understanding in his eyes. “But, I want to know the rest later after you calm down. Alright, let’s get you home. You do what you need to do.”

I give him a grateful smile, feeling a small measure of relief that, at least for now, I’m not alone in this.

“I wish I just knew how to explain it to you,” I mumble to him.

“What do you mean?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face.

“It’s family stuff, Val. I don’t know how to explain. So, let me run and be the one to talk to Dante. I need to get out of here.”

“Hang on, are you on that damned scooter of yours?” Val asks.

“Obviously, it’s the only vehicle I own,” I tell him.

“Well, let me at least drive you. You are still shaking. And I’ll go with you to talk to Dante.”

“Okay,” I look into his dark brown eyes, “okay.”

On the way home, I text my cousin James while Val is driving and let him know about my mom’s recent phone call. We locked my scooter up for the night. It would really suck if it was stolen just because my boyfriend didn’t want me to drive it for the 10-minutes it takes to scoot home.

Me: J, what do I do about mom? Her symptoms are getting worse

James: I think you are going to have to let your step-father handle things

James: Or call your aunt…

Me: Why don’t you call her, she’s your mom…

James: Same reason we all avoid calling her…

James: Anyways Laura, don’t go speeding up to New Haven

James: Relax, there’s nothing you can do if she won’t help herself. Besides, there is nothing you can do tonight, go in the morning.

Me: You’re right

At home, Val invites himself inside, and I can't help but smile at his boldness. Skipper walks in from our patio, smelling fresh from the weed he just smoked and looking satiated with the lingering traces of last night's boytoy evidenced in his disheveled appearance.

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