We Need to Talk

One of the top fear-inducing sentences in the English language illuminated her phone screen.

Bee chugged water and dropped her sunglasses low over her eyes to stave off her pending hangover headache. She waited for Meredith outside of Corner Coffee, deciding between an iced matcha latte or double shot of espresso while watching dogs wander by.

Hi, hi, sorry I am late. Meredith crushed Bee to her in a one-armed hug.

That’s fine, where’s Joe?

Meredith waved her hand. Sleeping, something about basketball with the buddies, eh — we will see him later tonight at dinner — you’re still coming, right?

Bee nodded her head. It was their longstanding tradition, Sunday family dinner post-church. Joe usually cooked, or sometimes when he couldn’t make it Bee made a baked brie and she and Meredith ate that instead, green apple slices and torn-off pieces of fresh sourdough baguette dripping with melted cheese and fig jam.

The two girls stepped into the growing line and ordered iced matcha teas with a splash of almond milk.

So how was last night? Meredith asked as she drizzled honey over the surface of her drink. Bee snapped a lid on her cup, swirled it around and took a sip.

Oh, you know, it was fine.

The elusive sun made its way through the gray fog to illuminate the white marble of their table by the door.

Bee we need to talk. About — things.

Um, okay, Bee drank deeply from her straw. The matcha was cold, freezing the back of her throat. She tasted fresh cut grass and earth.

What is this, an intervention?

You know we love you. That’s why I can’t see you doing this to yourself.

Doing what, Mere, what am I doing.

Well, you know, the Kellen thing —

Mere nothing is going on. So what, we hooked up. It’s not like I want to actually date the guy.

That’s the thing, Bee. He told Joe.

He told Joe what, that we hooked up? They’re friends, guys talk. It happens.

He told Joe he was going to get you to do a threesome, and some other things, I don’t know, the way he was bragging about it in the bar, I just —

He was talking about it to Joe in the bar? Last night?

Yea. Before we left. Bee you know what we think of him, what the rest of those guys think of him. I just don’t want to see you painted —

What, now you are concerned about my reputation?

YES, Bee, I am your FRIEND. Friends care about what their friends think of their friends especially when it involves guys like Kellen. You can do better, Bee, you know it. We know it.

So what, I deserve better? Where is better, Mere, where is better? I’m too fucked up to take care of myself right now let alone someone better. It’s sex. Whatever. I will never have his children if that is what you are worried about it.

Meredith took a deep breath and stared down at her own green cup. I just want you to know we love you.

Bee reached out her hand and slipped her fingers around Meredith’s wrist. Mere, I’m sorry I snapped. I appreciate you looking out for me. She pulled her hand back and tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. I’m just frustrated.

What do you want Bee?

Not this. I feel gross. It’s always fun and games until it’s not. She smirked and looked out the window.

Golden retriever, black lab. German shepherd, poodle? Small dog she couldn’t identify. It’s like the fucking pet parade around here, eh?

One day, I want one. One day.

The two girls watched as passing dogs tugged at leashes attached to couples swathed in athletic wear, holding hands, smiling. Talking. Planning lives and futures together. They made her want to vomit.

Some people wanted soul mates and dogs and one bedroom apartments for two. All Bee wanted was go back to bed.

—

The edges of my world shone brighter when I took you down, when I swallowed you whole and stared at the lights with less focus than usual — my vision over 20/20, perfect sight and eardrums exploding. I felt each music note, each pound of bass slide through my bloodstream and collide with the cells of my being. It was me, wholly me, but it wasn’t. I was you.

I wanted to take you everyday, feel you take over my body from the inside out. To block out the poison thoughts. To discard the then and the later and dance in the now.

Drop on my tongue, glide down my throat, infiltrate my senses.

Love, or drugs?