Page 94 of Notes About Vodka

Later, after walking around Central Park, we end the afternoon at a famous romance bookstore, theRipped Bodice, a hidden gem I had to show them. It's a place I've cherished since my first year in the city.

Skipper, Rhea, and I found the bookstore our very first week in New York. The shelves seem endless, filled with every genre of romance. Faint sound of classical music plays from hidden speakers. I’ve spent countless afternoons here, losing myself in stories that made the world feel a little more magical. The shelves stretch from floor to ceiling, packed with colorful spines, and the air smells like old pages and vanilla-scented candles. There's a cozy reading nook by the window, where sunlight spills across the floor like a golden bookmark and you can take amazing pictures with the books as backdrops at the long reading tables that are in the center of the store.

"Oh, Laura," Leigha exclaims, holding up a book with a shirtless man on the cover. "Isn’t this your type? Mr. Muscles with the brooding stare?"

"I read for the plot," I say with a laugh, grabbing a historical romance. "See? No abs on this one."

"Sure you do," she replies, waggling her eyebrows. "The plot. Riiight. Do you read that plot with Val?"

I blush because I thought about it actually. What if we tried some of the things I’m reading in my books.

“You have! You dirty girl!” Leigha exclaims.

Barbara finds a poetry collection and buys a book on the spot. Daddy flips through a travel memoir about a family's cross-country trip and tells me we should plan a road trip one day. Leigha flirts with the cashier, who seems both amused and terrified by her energy.

That night in the apartment we feast on leftover Thanksgiving food from the Liberty House. I enjoy that they are as tired as I am and we all go to bed early.

The next morning, I wake before dawn to drive my family to the airport. As I sip my coffee, a wave of melancholy washes over me. I wonder how long it will be until we see each other again.

My chest feels heavy with the familiar ache of goodbyes, but there's also warmth from the time we've spent together.They really frustrate me, but they are still mine, my family.

I grip the steering wheel of Skipper’s car tightly as I navigate New York City’s streets. The car ride is filled with drowsy conversation about the trip, with Barbara already planning a return visit. Leigha spends most of the ride scrolling through her phone, occasionally groaning about the early hour.

"Thanks for making time for us," Daddy says as we pull up to the departure lane.

"Of course," I reply, hugging him tightly. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too, kid," he says, squeezing me once more.

Barbara hugs me warmly, whispering that I should call more often. Leigha dramatically salutes before she hugs the living daylights out of me. Then, she curtsies before she wheels her suitcase toward the security line.

I sigh.My complicated, strange family.

I watch them go, standing there until they disappear through the glass doors.

What I didn’t tell Val or Rhea was that I used every bit of my remaining scholarship to buy flight tickets Skipper helped me get for a discount. It makes me angry when they go on these “vacations” because Daddy was laid off from the tire factor three years ago and they ran out of his savings before the layoff.

He’s driving a school bus, and Barbara and Leigha are living on his credit. But that’s another story that hurts to think about.

That night, I head toPianissimofor my shift, my stomach twisting with a mix of anticipation and dread, unsure of what the night might bring. I can't shake the feeling that something will go wrong, whether it's Roqui's attitude or Tony being, well Tony.

There’s also the fragile hope that Val and I might share another quiet moment together.

But go figure, Roqui is in full passive-aggressive mode, sighing dramatically when I walk in five minutes early saying I’m already late. Then, she makes a big deal about the seating chart for the evening. Asking about the schedule and making pointed comments about "some people" getting better tables and more time at the piano.

I ignore her and focus on the music and the crowd. I’m here to make money and enjoy what I love, music.

Val and I slip each other notes throughout the night. We have regressed to silly dad jokes, song lyrics, and Val creating a quick sketch of Leigha's hungover expression from breakfast. I laughed so hard I snorted.

During a slower moment, Val hands me a napkin that reads, "Tonight's soundtrack: Laura's laugh and Val's heart racing."

After work, we leave together, me riding my scooter behindhis Mazda to his place under the glow of the city lights. This is probably the last night I’ll be able to ride Buddy for a while. The nights are just getting too cold, even with my layer of thermals and bright orange ski jacket.

I wonder if I can lock her up at Val’s for the Winter where he has a better garage?

The rhythm of the city hums around us, but all I feel is the chill of the night and the quiet thrill of racing behind him. It feels like a perfect, fleeting moment suspended in time. The air is crisp, and I can't stop smiling the entire ride even though my nose is frozen under the helmet.

As we reach his building, Val looks back at me through his rearview mirror and grins. I realize how easy it feels to be with him. Sam would have never let me have a scooter, nor sing in a piano bar. Val lets me just be me.

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