u s e y o u r h a n d s

“Isn’t this the cutest thing? I came in today looking for chair pads, but I’m just in love with this fish thing made out of beads! I wonder what it’s for … oh, it’s a votive holder,” exclaimed Karen as she put the fish in her bulging basket. She glanced back at Sally for her reaction. She was a few paces behind Karen, fingering a lampshade absentmindedly.

“Sal?”

Sally turned back to Karen. She knew what Karen wanted to hear, but just couldn’t manage the necessary reply.

“Do you need that thing?” asked Sally in a strange, flat tone.

Karen looked like she didn’t understand. Who cares if she needed it? She could buy it. She liked it. So what?

“Of course I don’t need it, but it will look nice on the lanai. It’s sort of glittery. Nice for dinner parties.” Karen stammered a bit, but she was altogether pleased that, under Sally’s lifeless stare, she had found an actual reason to buy the fish.

Sally couldn’t hold back. Her husband had warned her about her increasingly biting sarcasm, but she simply did not give a shit anymore. “I’m sure that’s a great relief to the Cambodian child who strang all the beads together.”

“Sally, are you all right?” She touched Sally’s arm and leaned toward her friend. She’d never seen her like this, listless and judgemental.

“I’m drunk, Karen,” Sally replied. She didn’t slur — Sally was far too practiced for that. Her husband couldn’t even tell when he kissed her on his way out, even though she’d been drinking Riesling for hours.

Karen almost fell over herself as she took a giant step back from Sally. “You’re joking.”

“Not, actually, sweets. I’ve been drunk for years.” A slow smile slid across Sally’s face. She struck the model-ish pose she’d been so fond of in her early twenties. Hand on hip, left foot in front of the right making a T, upturned chin. It looked ridiculous on a woman clad in Liz Claiborne.

Karen stared openmouthed at her friend. Is Sally on something?, she thought. Sure, she’d seen her get a little tipsy at parties or whatever, but Riesling in the morning? “What are you talking about, Sally?” she asked yet again.

She prayed Karen would stop talking. There had been hints, sure. But she was willing to forgive these … transgressions? because Sally had never been boorish. Drunk, maybe, but she always showed up. She always was there.

“Jesus, Karen. Drunk. I’m drunk. Totally drunk. I’m drunk every day by at least noon. I’ve been doing it for years and nobody has noticed.”

Karen turned sharply away and focused on a wicker mail basket, “I’ve been looking for one of these. Perfect. Just what I need.”

Nobody would leave their circle and rescue her, Sally decided. Whatever she did, it would be on her own. It wasn’t the loneliness she dreaded, it was the honesty. Because she had lied for so long, not about booze but about everything, Sally thought maybe she’d forgotten how to tell the truth.

Sally grabbed Karen’s arm and whirled her around. The mail basket tumbled to the ground. “Fuck the basket, Karen.”

“Sally, stop,” blubbered Kared as tears spilled out of her eyes. “Please, don’t.”

Don’t be a drunk or don’t be my friend, Sally wondered. Karen must have known. They spent so much time together, buying things, lunching.

Sally tightened her grip on her friend’s arm and grabber her other hand. “I’m leaving him. I’m going to rehab and then moving out.” Her voice grew raspy with phlegm.

Karen broke free of Sally’s clutch and backed away again. Sally was done trying. Karen would either keep her or find another manicure buddy. She turned away from her maid-of-honor, sorority sister, and Lamaze coach and walked away.

Karen bought the fish.