A Love Letter to Whiskey

by Kandi Steiner

  “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

  Jamie laughed harder, his hand coming down on my knee as he doubled over. I tried not to feel the burn through my jeans. “Nothing, it just makes sense. You and that mouth of yours.” He removed his hand, but now his eyes were on my mouth he’d just mentioned, and I could barely breathe.

  He sniffed, looking back out at the field. “What is Interact?”

  “Basically a community service club. I want to beef up the resume before senior year, you know?”

  Our team scored and everyone jumped up, cheering loudly, Jamie and I a little delayed. We shared high-fives with a few people around us and watched Jenna perform a toe touch jump before settling back in on the bleachers.

  “Yeah, you told me how you want to go to school in California, but what exactly do you want to go to school for?”

  I stole his slushy then, pointing the straw at him before taking a sip. “You’ll have to get in line to get the answer to that question, right behind my mom.”

  Jamie snatched the slushy back and immediately took a pull, which made me realize we’d shared a straw. I couldn’t figure out why that made my stomach flip. “Can you share a little insight with the back of the line, at least?”

  “I just don’t know yet. I’ll probably go in undecided, take my general education requirements and figure it out from there. I love to write, but I also enjoy the objectivity of solving a math problem. I get amped up over public speaking but I also take solace in the quiet hours spent on a solo project.” I sighed. “I just think it’s stupid to narrow down my options. Is it so bad to be passionate about more than one thing?”

  He tilted his head. “Not at all. I think that makes you rare.”

  “Great. Rare. Like a steak. Sounds like when my mom used to tell me I was ‘special.’”

  Jamie laughed. “You are. You’re unique, B. I like that about you.”

  My breath got stuck somewhere beneath my chest bone and I inhaled deeply, tucking my hands under my thighs and pulling my knee from where it touched his. It was suddenly too much, and I focused instead on where the cool metal of the bleachers touched my skin.

  “What about you? You have it all planned out, don’t you?”

  “Kind of. I mean, for me, it’s always been sort of easy. I want what my dad has, you know?” His eyes were bright, animated. “I’m not sure if I told you or not, but he’s an accountant, owns his own firm in Fort Lauderdale.”

  “You don’t say?” I acted surprised.

  Jamie sat a little straighter, talking with his hands. “He started that firm when he was twenty-six, B. Twenty-six. Can you imagine?” He shook his head. “It almost went under twice, but he fought for it, and now he’s one of the best firms in town. I want to continue that, work for him until he hands it over to me, work even harder once it’s mine to keep the reputation he worked so hard to build. I want to meet the love of my life, marry her, fill our house with kids and do what I need to do to give them everything they need.”

  “You want those things? Or does he want them for you?” The other team scored a touchdown and the crowd around us booed, halting the conversation for a moment. When the noise died down, Jamie continued.

  “I want them,” he said with absolution. “I love what my dad has built with my mom, what they’ve both done for me and my two sisters — Sylvia and Santana.” He shrugged, and I watched a single strand of his hair fall out of place and onto his forehead. “I’ve worked at the firm for three summers now and I love it. I’m good at it. I don’t know, it just makes sense for me, I guess.”

  “It must be so comforting, to know what you want the way you do.”

  He swallowed, his eyes focusing on the game and not on me anymore. “Sometimes it’s harder than you think. There’s always this fear that even though I may know what I want, I may never actually make it a reality.” Jamie glanced at me then. “Sometimes it’s more complicated than just wanting something and making it happen.”

  I nodded, at least I think I did. He was looking at me in that way he did, and when that happened, I couldn’t be sure I was actually moving the way I told my body to.

  “I think you’ll find a way.”

  He smiled, an easy smile, one that erased the tension of that moment. “Thanks, B. I think you will, too.”

  We ended up winning the game, twenty-four to fourteen, and Jenna sprinted off the field and into Jamie’s arms at the sound of the final whistle. He picked her up easily, swinging her around before kissing her to a collective “aww” from those in the stands who witnessed the movie-like moment. It was that kiss that stunned me back to reality, the reality where Jamie was my best friend’s boyfriend. Jenna turned to me next and I slapped on a smile as quick as I could before she wrapped her arms around me.

  “I’m so glad you came! I know this isn’t exactly your scene.”

  I shrugged. “It wasn’t all that bad.” My eyes flitted to Jamie’s and he smirked, but I looked away quickly, back to Jenna, my best friend, who I loved, who trusted me. “Still want to stay the night tonight?”

  “Duh! We need a bestie night. Please tell me you have gummy bears and Mountain Dew ready for consumption.”

  I scoffed. “Come on now, is that even a question?”

  She smiled radiantly, her blue eyes shining under the stadium lights. “I just have to finish up here and I’ll be over. See you in an hour or so?”

  “Perfect.”

  She leaned up on her toes to kiss Jamie once more before trotting off, and Jamie took longer than necessary before turning back to me. Our eyes met, saying more than words could, and I turned before he did, making my way to the parking lot with him not far behind.

  IT WAS SILENT in Jamie’s Jeep on the way to my house — completely silent — both of us caught up in our own thoughts. That was, until my phone rang.

  “Hey Dad.”

  “Hey, baby girl. How was the game?”

  “Fine,” I clipped. To say that my relationship with my dad was strained after Mom’s confession would be an understatement. I probably drove him insane with my whiplash, because one moment I would forget for a while, let everything be how it used to be, and other times it was all I could do to talk to him without vomiting. I didn’t know how to just snap my fingers and suddenly hate my dad, though I tried more often than not to do so. I guess there was no “right way” to handle it, at least not that I’d found.

  “That’s good, I’m glad you got out of the house.” His tone had changed, probably because he’d picked up on mine. He knew what kind of day it was for me. “Listen, I have some news on your car.”

  “And?”

  “And… we can’t figure out what’s wrong. Not yet, anyway. We checked the battery, the alternator, the timing belt — Nick thinks it might be something electrical.”

  I sighed, pulling my legs up into Jamie’s passenger side seat and setting my chin on my knees. “So what does this mean?”

  “It means we’ll need more time with it to figure out what’s going on. Nick is about to leave town for a couple of weeks but when he gets back, he’s going to make it his number-one priority.”

  “Two weeks?!” I yelled a little louder than I intended and Jamie’s brows furrowed, asking if I was okay. I just shook my head. “Well this sucks.”

  “I know. But in the meantime, you and I can start saving.”

  I swallowed. “How much do you think it’s going to cost?”

  Dad was quiet for a long moment, and I pictured him running a hand over his red beard. He always did when he had bad news. “I can’t be sure, but I’d bet on at least a grand.”

  “Fuck my life.”

  “Language, Brecks.”

  My cheeks heated with anger. “Don’t call me Brecks.”

  He sighed. “It’s your name, baby girl.”

  “No. My name is B. And you know that by now, so stop acting like you don’t.”

  “I’m just trying to help here.”

  He sounded defeated and I grit
ted my teeth, clenching my fist around the phone before letting out a long exhale. “I know, Dad. I have to go, but thank you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  I paused. “You too.”

  The silence was too much when that phone call ended and Jamie seemed to pick up on it, because he hooked up his phone and started playing The Piano Guys without saying a single word. I was thankful as their version of “With or Without You” slowly faded in over the speakers, but didn’t say so. Instead, I racked my brain for ways to come up with the money I’d need to get my car fixed. I’d worked at a grocery store chain over the summer, but was hoping to take the school year off to focus on school work and maybe having a little fun.

  So much for that.

  I shot out a text to my old manager and she responded back almost immediately, telling me I could come back on Monday after school.

  Jamie pulled into my driveway this time, turning his Jeep completely off and staring at me until I conceded and returned his gaze.

  “Why do you hate your name, B?”

  A heavy weight dropped in my throat and I shifted, debating on what to tell him. Did I tell him the truth? Did I tell him it was none of his business?

  I was too exhausted to lie, so I inhaled a shaky breath and let my head fall back against the head rest like I had the evening before. “My dad forced himself on my mom the night she became pregnant with me.”

  “Jesus,” Jamie whispered under his breath, but I kept going.

  “I only found out about it a little over a year ago. Up until that point, I loved my name. It was short, cute, fun. But one night, my mom got sloshed and decided to tell me that everything I thought I knew about my life was a lie.” I laughed, a manic sort of laugh. I had no idea why I was spilling this to Jamie, but for the first time since the night my mom had told me, I was starting to feel something. It started as a pressure in my chest, but with every word I spoke it bloomed, filling the space meant for air with an uncomfortable sting, instead. “You know he wasn’t there when she had me? No one was. Not my grandma, not any of my mom’s friends — it was just her and me. The nurse placed me in her arms and Mom said she cried.”

  Jamie didn’t say anything, just reached his hand out to rest it on my thigh.

  “My dad is Irish, and he has all these freckles all over his face. So when Mom saw the freckles on my cheeks, she thought about him, about that night, about the freckles she counted to get her through the eight minutes of him violating her.” My eyes flooded with tears and I batted at them hastily. I couldn’t believe I was crying, that I was finally feeling something after I’d been almost numb to it for so long. “She named me Brecks because it’s Irish for ‘freckled.’”

  He squeezed my leg tighter and I fought the urge to grab his hand with my own.

  “Once I found out, I couldn’t stand my name anymore. I hated it. I hated the meaning of it. I hated what my father did to my mom and I hated what she did to me by naming me after something so monstrous.” I laughed again, shaking my head and swiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop. Jamie Shaw had spotted a wound not even I knew I had, and it was like telling him about it gave me permission to bleed. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  “Because I asked.”

  I sniffed, eying him then. “Doesn’t mean I had to answer.”

  Jamie lifted his hand from my thigh, his thumb wiping away a tear I’d missed as it ran along my jawline. I leaned into his touch, closed my eyes, and let out a shaky breath.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  I chewed my bottom lip, his hand still on my face, and I tried not to feel guilty.

  But this time, I did.

  “Thanks for the ride, Jamie,” I said quietly, breaking our contact and pulling on the door handle.

  “Hey,” he stopped me as I stepped out. I shut the door but leaned in through the window, waiting. “My passenger seat is yours until your car gets fixed. If you want it.”

  He was watching me closely — too closely — and I let my eyes fall. “I think we both know that’s a bad idea.”

  Jamie started to speak, but it was too soft for me to hear and he trailed off, not finishing his thought. I used my wrist to wipe at my nose and offered him a weak smile.

  “See you at school.”

  Jenna showed up thirty minutes later, which was just enough time for me to wash my face and change into an oversized t-shirt and spandex shorts. We ate gummy bears and watched MTV while she gushed about how incredible Jamie was. I nodded along, smiling and commenting where appropriate, knowing all too well what she meant.

  She’d just fallen asleep when my phone pinged with a text from him.

  — I meant what I said earlier. Let me drive you until your car is fixed. We can be friends, B. —

  I didn’t answer, but took my phone with me into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I chugged the entire thing and then my phone screen lit up again.

  — Please. Let me be your friend. —

  I knew it was a bad idea. There wasn’t just a red flag, there was a warning bell and alarms and whistles and neon lights with DON’T DO IT in all capital letters. But sometimes, even when we know something is bad for us, we do it anyway. Maybe for the thrill, maybe to cure our curiosity, or maybe just to lie to ourselves a little longer.

  I’d like to tell you I told him no, that I deleted his number and turned off my phone and crawled into bed with my best friend who was dating him. But instead, I curled up on our old couch, laid there alone for what felt like hours, and finally responded with just one word.

  — Okay. —

  FALL FADED SLOWLY INTO winter, the weather not really changing much in the process, blurring the seasons together in my mind. Jamie drove me to and from school every day, even when basketball practices picked up, and he never complained when I shared yet another unfavorable update on the status of my car.

  It worked out, actually, because he stayed for practice while I volunteered with Interact or stayed after to help the Debate Club. We would meet in the parking lot, him dripping in sweat that somehow made him more attractive rather than less and I dripping in sarcastic remarks geared toward the drama on his team.

  Sometimes, when he could, he would drive me to work or pick me up after a late shift at the grocery store. He would drive me to the football games, too, and we’d sit side-by-side, drinking slushies and watching Jenna cheer. We talked more and stared at each other less, which made my conscience feel better. When we both had time, he would even drive us out to the beach to catch the surf, both of our boards fitting easily on top of his Jeep.

  So as the seasons changed, we fell into a routine. And he and Jenna fell in love.

  I had an up close and personal seat to watch it happen, and I was genuinely happy for them. Jamie was hands down the best guy I knew and Jenna was my best friend. I couldn’t have picked a better match.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  My car was finally fixed on December fourth, a whopping three months after my dad had taken it into the shop. When I’d told Jamie, he seemed happy — not necessarily relieved, but happy — and that upset me. There was a part of me that hoped he might be disappointed, that he might miss our drives spent talking and listening to music, too.

  And when I realized that was how I felt, I was even more upset. Because I didn’t have the right to wish those things any more than he had the right to feel them.

  When fall semester ended, Jenna left town for her family’s annual ski trip in Colorado. I didn’t expect to hear from Jamie over break, since Jenna was out of town, and I didn’t — until Christmas Eve.

  It was after midnight, but I was wide awake, my stomach in knots knowing my father would be sitting at our kitchen table the next day. Our family was always together on Christmas — no matter what — and while it used to be a tradition I loved, it was one I dreaded now. They used to do it to put on a show for me, to make me feel like our family was somewhat still
a unit, but now that I knew everything? I just wondered what the point of it was. I didn’t want to play the game, anymore. So I was tossing and turning, not really even trying to sleep when my phone pinged with a text from Jamie.

  — Are you awake? —

  I squinted through the darkness at the screen, debating whether to answer or not. There was a strange twist in my stomach urging me not to, but another, more powerful part of me somehow knowing he needed to talk to someone that night. In the end, I gave in to curiosity.

  — Indeed I am. —

  — Take a drive with me? —

  There was that little twist again. The warning bells.

  — Sure. —

  Less than fifteen minutes later, I was buckled into Jamie’s passenger seat as he cruised the ghosted streets on my side of town. Everyone was asleep, waiting on the big man in the red suit to sneak in through the doggy doors since no one had chimneys in South Florida. We had the town to ourselves, and Jamie took his time, driving slow, no destination in mind. His music was louder that night, William Joseph’s “Standing the Storm” spilling from the speakers as he shifted his grip on the steering wheel over and over. His usual carefree expression had been replaced by a more pensive one, his brows pinched together and his eyes hard on the road in front of us. Every now and then he would sigh, but he still didn’t say a single word. I let him drive in our comfortable silence for almost an hour before I reached forward to lower the volume.

  “Did I ever tell you about why I hate cats?”

  My words seemed to snap Jamie out of his haze, his head jetting back as a grin split his face. “Oh this ought to be good.”

  “See, I had a cat once,” I said, sitting up straighter and tucking my feet under my thighs. I’d already kicked my shoes off, finding my comfortable position in my seat next to Jamie. It felt almost like home after that semester. “Her name was Aurora, like the princess, but we called her Rory. Only she wasn’t a princess. Like, at all. She was actually the devil.”

  A loud laugh boomed out of Jamie’s throat and I smiled inside, knowing my story was working — at least at the moment.