Page 4 of Bourbon Girl: part 5 of 6
angel's sharethe portion of bourbon lost to evaporation during aging
I CALLEDSuzy from my van, needing the privacy of my small space for this conversation. She answered on the second ring, sounding more sober than she had on Halloween night.
"Bernadette! I've been thinking about you non-stop. How are you holding up?"
"I'm managing." I settled onto my narrow bed, pulling my knees to my chest against the chill. "I wanted to ask you more about Boyd Biggs. Anything else you remember about him and Mom?"
Suzy exhaled slowly. "God, it's been so long. But I do remember Ginger was absolutely head over heels for him. She talked about him constantly for weeks after they met—how sophisticated he was, how he really listened when she talked. She was convinced he was different from the other guys she'd dated."
My throat tightened. "And was he into her?"
"He seemed to be, yeah. I met him once when he picked her up for a date. He brought her flowers—lilies, I think. He was attentive, asked me questions about myself instead of just waiting to leave. Seemed genuinely kind." She paused. "But then things got complicated."
I braced myself. "Complicated how?"
"Your mom had a way of—" Suzy stopped, choosing her words carefully. "She'd latch onto men pretty intensely. It wasn't always healthy. And when she had her episodes, the really manic ones, it would scare people off."
The ache of recognition settled in my chest. I'd witnessed those episodes my entire childhood. The sleepless nights when Mom would reorganize the entire apartment at 3 AM, convinced she'd discovered a new system for living. The grandiose plans that never materialized. The crushing lows that followed.
"She had those episodes her whole life," I said quietly. "I always suspected bipolar disorder, but she refused to see doctors. Said they just wanted to drug people into submission."
"That sounds like Ginger." Suzy's voice carried affection and sadness in equal measure. "She was brilliant and funny and so full of life. But the highs and lows—they were exhausting to watch, even from the outside. I can't imagine what it was like for you, living with it."
I closed my eyes, memories flooding back. Mom dancing around our various apartments, declaring we were starting fresh, this time would be different. Then weeks later, unable to get out of bed, the curtains drawn.
"Did Boyd know about her condition?" I asked.
"I don't think she ever told him directly. But he would've seen signs if they spent enough time together. The intensity, the mood swings." Suzy sighed. "I wish I could remember more specific details. Maybe I should have a few drinks and see what else shakes loose from my memory," she added with a weak laugh.
"Don't make yourself sick on my account," I said, managing a small smile despite everything. "But if you do remember anything else..."
"I'll call you immediately. I promise." She hesitated. "Bernadette, are you going to reach out to Boyd? I've been away from the area for so long, I didn't realize he's kind of a big deal now."
"Yeah… can you believe I've actually met him?"
"No kidding?"
"Through my job. I've been to the distillery he owns lots of times."
"Wow, small world. Is he a good guy?"
"I think so," I murmured. "He's a family man. He already has two kids of his own."
"Maybe that's a good thing."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "I have a feeling not in this case."
"But you're still going to tell him?"
"I don't know yet. I'm still trying to process all of this."
After we said goodbye, I sat in the silence of my van, staring at the photograph of my mother on my necklace. Her bright smile captured in that single moment, before I knew about the darkness that lived alongside her light.
Had she passed more than just her brown eyes and determined chin to me? Were her unstable moods coded somewhere in my DNA, waiting to surface? I thought about my own tendency to run when things got hard, my difficulty maintaining relationships, the way I sometimes felt too much or not enough.
Was I just one trigger away from becoming her?
November 5, Wednesday
