Page 37 of Lovebug
“What, um, what kind of adventures?” I ask. I’m leaning forward on my barstool and sipping my sour like an eager elementary student. Not that elementary students hang out on barstools sipping whiskey sours, but you know what I mean.
“Well, we’ve become…” Calliope continues. “I guess you would say… a bit exhibitionistic? Sorry, Lou, is this an uncomfortable topic for you?” She turns to the girl sitting next to me, who is starting to look a little nauseous.
“Nooooo,” Louise says with a light laugh. “Course not. I love hearing about the many and highly specific details of my brother’s sexual prowess.”
“Okay, cool. But I do want to be respectful of the potential weirdness this may cause for you. So this is me giving you an out. You should probably take it,” Calliope warns her.
“Please don’t take the out?” I beg Louise. “I’m really eager to—I just have so much to learn about—”
I stop myself midthought.
The whiskey must be getting to me.
Dial down the need, Mabel. Be cool.
I clear my throat. “I would, uh, I would just really like for Calliope to continue what she’s saying. And by the way, my apologies for not being the designated driver tonight. Jiminy is in the shop, or else I would have been happy to.”
“Nonsense,” Calliope says. “You need to let loose tonight. Besides, that’s what ride-share services are for.”
“Sorry, who’s Jiminy?” Louise asks.
Cyndi perks up. “Mabel’s car. It’s an old-school green VW bug. Fitting for our entomologist friend, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I try to move the conversation along. “Jiminy is amazing, and I love him dearly. Back to what Calliope was saying about screwing Louise’s brother.”
“Ooh lala,” Calliope sings. “If this is you after one sour, I’m excited to see you at the end of the night!”
She turns to Louise for permission to continue.
“Fine,” Lou sighs. “I’ll just… exit my body for the next few minutes and pretend you’re talking about somebody else.”
Cyndi claps and squeals. “Yay! I love sex stories!”
“You do?” I ask her. “How comewenever share sex stories?”
“Oh,” Cyndi says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t think youhadany sex stories.”
“Hey!” I object.
“No, I mean, I’m sure you do,” Cyndi backpedals. “I just meant I didn’t realize sex was something you were comfortable talking about.”
“I’M TOTALLY COMFORTABLE TALKING ABOUT IT! I’M THE MOST COMFORTABLE PERSON I KNOW WHEN I’M TALKING ABOUT IT!”
And… apparently, I’m screaming. And making very little sense.
All three of my friends stare at me in stunned silence.
BANG BANG!
“Enough about me, this meeting is now called to order!” Calliope exclaims after pummeling a gavel on the tabletop.
“Whoa, you brought props?” Louise marvels.
“Intervention props, yeah. Only the best for my Mabel-Shmaybel-She-Can-Drink-You-Under-The-Table.”
“Um. She’s not really much of a drinker, actually,” Cyndi says. As my oldest friend, I get the impression Cyndi feels a little put off by how close Calliope and I are becoming. “And I don’t think a gavel is necessary for an intervention.”
“I know,” Calliope admits. “But I saw it at The Ninety-Nine Cent Store, and I couldn’t resist. And, while I’m not usually one to condone drinking in excess, I think in this case, Mabel could use a little encouragement to loosen up. Hey, James?” She flags down our bartender. “Can we have another round, please?”
