On The Rocks

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

On The Rocks
May 7, 2003

“We’ll have the two for one fajitas.” Maria beamed.

“I want my margarita frozen, no salt.” I said to a waiter who wasn’t listening.

“I’ll take mine on the rocks, no salt.” She said, batting her eyes.

Yeah. Well. I should have been glad that I got a drink at all, after that look.

“You want him?” I asked, shocked. He wasn’t her type.

“No. God no. But. He’ll make my drink stronger.” She assured me.

“Great. You’ll get strait alcohol, and I’ll be drinking grunge.”

“I hope so.” She said, dreamily as he hurried back with our drinks.

I got my drink dripping with salt. Yeah. And I think that he must have saved my alcohol for a rainy day. Or maybe he lavished it on Maria.

The extra alcohol seemed to have brought her back to her childhood years. And. You guessed it. I was on a ride that I couldn’t get off.

“My brother was so mean to me when I was a child.” She said, tears in her eyes.

“That must have been awful.” I said.

I hadn’t had fajitas in years, not since I had to stop eating wheat because of my Celiac Spru. Wayne and I used to order fajitas all the time. Tonight I got mine with corn tortillas. It was sort of fun eating out in a cheap place with cheap table clothes and nondescript people. I overfilled my tortillas and let the toppings drip onto my plate as I stuffed my face.

“My mother didn’t give me lunch money.” She said.

“Why not?”

“She didn’t care about me.”

I rarely eat sour cream. Don’t know why. Man. It really does taste good on fajitas. I wish that I had alcohol in my drink. I could use some alcohol. I would order another drink, but hate to pay for flavored ice. Guess that Maria was the smart one, flirting with the waiter to get a stiff drink.

“Our family dog ran away because my parent’s arguments were so brutal.”

“How did you stand it?”

“I went to live with my grandmother. She was awesome. Till she died and I had to return home again.”

There was a little baby sitting at the next table. She was so cute with a little pink bow in her hair. She kept dropping her stuffed animal on the floor. I picked it up and returned it to her. Oh. You know how that is. It became my job. Official Stuffed Animal Picker-Upper.

“The Minister at church always ignored me.”

“Why?”

“Because my parents didn’t give enough money to the church.”

“How awful that must have been.”

“So I had to give my lunch money.”

“I thought you didn’t get lunch money.”

“Well. SOMETIMES I got some. You think she NEVER gave me any?”

This Saturday night with my good friend, Maria, seemed a huge contrast to my last Saturday night date with Darlin-man.

We had gone to a Cuban restaurant and cuddled on a couch while we had appetizers and drank Mojitos. We probably would have had more to drink, but he had trouble getting the waitresses attention, which made us laugh. Then walked down to another place where we had an awesome dinner. Lots of laughing and talking.

“I was always a good student, so my parents never asked to see my report card. They never celebrated my grades.” She said.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It wasn’t.”

My plate was a mess. The waiter kept coming over to ask if we were done yet.

I snapped at him. “Do we look done?”

He left.

Maria tumbled out of her story. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing.” I said, reaching down to pick up the stuffed animal for the annoying child sitting at the next table.

“You hardly ate anything.” She worried.

“I ate all the chicken. You want the leftovers for lunch tomorrow?”

“No. I don’t think that the onions would be a very good lunch, but thanks.”

“Darlin-man sent me an e-mail saying that he was an idiot.”

“He was an idiot.” She said, searching my face. “Don’t call him. He doesn’t want you. Don’t call someone who doesn’t want you. Find someone who wants you.”

Just then the waiter came over. “You ladies ready to go?”

“Yes. Let’s go.” I said.

“Can I give you a ride?” He asked Maria.

“No. Thanks. I have a ride. You’re very sweet. Bye.”

“Hey.” I said, as we were climbing into the car, “What was wrong with him? He had real potential. I thought that the only rule was to find someone who wanted you.”

“I think I like you better when you’ve had more to drink.” She said, dryly.

------------

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

Comment on this column in the forum.
------------