Burnt Orange

by Melody Carlson

  “Thanks for helping me decide on that dress,” I tell Claire as we get into my car. “I’m sure I never would’ve picked it out by myself.”

  “No problem. You know how much I love to shop.” She leans back into the seat and sighs happily. “And it was fun doing something with you again. I thought you were going to blow me off for good.”

  As I start my car, I try to make it clear that I hope we can keep being friends. I feel like I’m stumbling over the words, and I’m sure she knows that I’ve had some reservations about hanging with her.

  “I know that some of my friends think I’ve got problems,” she says finally.

  “Everyone has problems,” I say quickly.

  “Yeah, but I know the reason Haley and Stacy and Megan avoid me is because of my drinking. But honestly, I’ve been doing better lately. I think I’ve got it under control.”

  “Cool,” I say as I exit the parking lot. Now I’m trying to think of some casual way to introduce the idea of possibly inviting Simi and Andrew to join us on prom night, but it’s just not coming.

  “Hey, wanna stop and get a bite to eat?” she asks as she points to a small, slightly rundown Italian restaurant down the street. “My treat, okay? My little thank-you for giving me a ride today.”

  “Sounds good,” I admit. “I’m starving.” When we get to the parking lot, I call home and tell my mom that I won’t be home for dinner.

  “Did you find a dress?” my mom asks in an interested voice. So I tell her about it and then explain about the tear, but she assures me she can fix it.

  “Good for you for finding a bargain,” she says. “Especially since you’ll only need the dress for one night.” Just like Simi, I’m thinking as I agree and then tell her goodbye.

  Soon we are seated in the restaurant and the waitress is asking if we’d like something to drink.

  “I’ll have a Fuzzy Navel,” says Claire, cool as ever.

  Now, why am I not surprised by this? And yet I’m feeling irritated—seriously irritated. I give her a glance, but she is ignoring me.

  “I’ll have to see your ID,” says the waitress, who looks to be about our age or slightly older.

  Claire opens her Prada purse and whips out her fake ID. The waitress takes a quick look but seems satisfied.

  “How about you?” she turns to me. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Don’t make me drink alone,” says Claire in a pleading voice. “And remember, it’s my treat tonight.” She smiles up at the waitress. “I know, why don’t you skip the Fuzzy Navel and just bring us a carafe of Merlot and an extra glass for my friend.”

  “I’ll have to see your friend’s ID first.” The waitress looks at me and I feel my face heating with embarrassment. I decide that the quickest way to resolve this might simply be to show her my fake ID. So I fumble in my purse for the card, saying to Claire that I really don’t want wine anyway.

  “But you might change your mind,” Claire says pleasantly as she turns back to the waitress. “We just did some serious shopping damage at Nordstrom’s,” she explains to the waitress. “I think we deserve a nice little break now.”

  I can’t believe how well Claire can pull this stuff off. I hand my ID over to the waitress and wait for her to examine it and probably call the manager and have me thrown out, but she just nods and hands it to me, saying that she’ll be right back with our wine.

  “Claire,” I hiss once the waitress is gone. “Why did you do that?”

  “Why not?”

  Soon there is a carafe of dark wine and two glasses at our table. I glance uncomfortably around the dimly lit restaurant, seriously worried that someone from my church might be here tonight. Fortunately, we’re in a corner in the back and I don’t recognize anyone. But by the time I focus my attention back to our table, I notice that Claire has already filled my wine glass and is now holding hers up as if she wants to toast.

  “To friendship,” she says.

  Feeling like a hypocritical fool, I stupidly lift my glass as I faintly echo her toast and then take a small obligatory sip. But I am determined that I will not take another one.

  seventeen

  I’M WONDERING IF I MAY HAVE SOME SERIOUS CHARACTER FLAW OR INNER weakness or if maybe I’m just plain stupid, because not only do I drink two glasses of wine with our dinner but afterward I let Claire talk me into heading to the bar that’s attached to the restaurant.

  “Not to drink,” she assures me. “Just for fun.”

  I nod, trying to remember my earlier resolve. “All right, just for fun. Don’t forget that I’m driving, okay?”

  “Yeah, maybe you should have some coffee.”

  So we go to a booth against the wall. The place isn’t very busy, but it takes the middle-aged cocktail waitress a while to come to our table.

  “Are you kids old enough to be in here?” She frowns down on us with a skeptical expression.

  Claire just laughs and reaches for her purse. As the woman checks Claire’s ID, I fumble around for mine. Although I’m feeling more relaxed now, I still get uneasy as I hand over the fake ID. But the woman simply nods and hands it back.

  “The older I get, the younger everyone else looks,” she says as she flips open a small pad. “Now, what would you like?”

  Claire, despite her promise not to drink, orders a Fuzzy Navel, but I say I just want coffee.

  “You should try it with Baileys,” suggests Claire.

  “What’s that?”

  “Irish cream,” says the woman. “It’s pretty good.”

  “Okay,” I agree. And since I’m still trying to acquire a taste for coffee, I think some Irish cream, whatever that is, might be good.

  It’s not long before she brings our drinks, and my coffee does taste pretty good. And it’s not long before we both order a second round.

  “Does Irish cream have alcohol in it?” I ask Claire as I take a sip from my second cup.

  “A little.”

  I roll my eyes. “You know you could’ve told me that earlier.”

  “Well, don’t worry, the caffeine in the coffee will probably balance it out.”

  And so I don’t worry. In fact, I think I’m feeling pretty good as we watch some loser-type guys who seem to have their eye on us from the bar. Hopefully they won’t offer to buy us drinks. Claire has assured me that she will get rid of them if they try to get friendly.

  Finally I’m feeling relaxed enough to bring up the subject of Simi and Andrew. “Oh, yeah,” I say as if I’d just thought of it. “I was meaning to ask you if a couple of friends could come to the prom with us.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Simi and a guy from North. His name is Andrew something. He’s really cute, and I’ll bet he knows Eric.”

  She smiles. “Cool. The more the merrier.”

  And so, just like that, it’s all arranged, and I’m wondering why I was so worried about it.

  Just as I’m really starting to relax, a couple of women walk into the bar, and to my horrified amazement, one of the women looks exactly like Simi’s older sister, Lena. In fact, it is Lena. But she doesn’t see me as they go to the far end of the bar and sit down.

  Now, I realize that Lena is old enough to be in here, but I also know that she’s a Christian, and I’m feeling more than a little shocked to see her here. I don’t recognize the woman she’s with, but I can tell she’s older than Lena, like maybe in her thirties. Fortunately, Lena hasn’t noticed me yet. But I’m not sure how we’re going to get out of here without being seen since both exits are clearly visible from where Lena and her friend are sitting.

  I whisper this news to Claire, but she just thinks it’s funny. “So what’s the big deal?”

  “Lena goes to my church.”

  “Well, then you’re both just a couple of sinners, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’m underage, not to mention the pastor’s daughter. And Lena might tell someone.”

  She just shrugs and sips her drink. “She probably won’t even see
you. Besides, doesn’t it make you feel better to know that someone from your church enjoys a drink or two occasionally? Lighten up, Amber.”

  I’m not sure what I think about that. To be honest, I find it disturbing that Lena drinks. For one thing, I always think of her as something of a role model, although I’d never admit that to anyone. But beyond that, Simi just said recently that Lena is going to be helping Glen with youth group this summer. In fact, Simi thinks that Lena and Glen might even sort of like each other.

  So I’m confused. Like, what’s up with this? I try to see what Lena is drinking, but it just looks like a regular Coke. Of course, I know full well that you can drink something that looks like an innocent Coke but isn’t.

  “Just chill,” says Claire. “And quit staring at them, or you’ll draw her attention for sure.”

  “Yeah.” I sit sort of sideways now, just in case Lena turns around to look this way.

  “Another round?” asks the cocktail waitress with a bored expression.

  Naturally, Claire (who’s been “cutting back,” yeah right) orders another Fuzzy Navel, but I say that I’ve had enough—more than enough is what I’m thinking.

  “Oh, bring her one too,” says Claire in a slightly slurred voice. “Even if she just sits here and looks at it. I don’t want to drink alone, you know?”

  “You sure?” asks the woman, glancing at me now.

  “Hey, the drinks are on me anyway,” says Claire. “Go ahead and bring her another.”

  “I think we should go,” I whisper after the waitress leaves.

  “Why are you whispering?” asks Claire in a voice that’s loud enough to be heard over the music that’s blaring through the speaker just over our heads.

  I glance uncomfortably at the bar but then feel relieved to see that Lena and her friend seem to be deep in conversation and not even looking our way.

  So I take a deep breath and try to relax. And when the woman brings our drinks, I go ahead and take a tiny sip, telling myself that I’ll just pretend to drink it until Lena and her friend leave, and then we can go too.

  But I am halfway through my drink and actually feeling pretty good when I feel someone tapping me on the shoulder. I look up to see Lena looking down at me. Her face is a mixture of confusion and, I think, anger.

  “What are you doing here, Amber?” she asks.

  Of course, I can’t think of anything to say. I just stare at her in shocked horror and wish I could disappear.

  “Amber?” she continues. “Really, what on earth are you doing here?”

  I hold up my half-full cup. “Having coffee,” I say meekly.

  She bends down and takes a sniff of my cup. “Spiked coffee.”

  I shrug.

  “Who’s your friend?” asks Lena as she slides in beside me.

  “Uh, this is, uh—”

  Claire makes a cute little wave with her pinkie finger and then smiles at Lena like she’s seeing double.

  “Never mind.” Lena is reaching for my arm now, and before I can say anything, she has pulled me to my feet. “Let’s go outside and talk, Amber.”

  I glance hopelessly at Claire, but she only looks highly amused by this unfortunate scene. The next thing I know, I’m standing outside in the dark parking lot with Lena looking down on me.

  “What is up with this, Amber?” she demands.

  “I don’t know.” I stare at the ground now, seriously wishing that it would open up and swallow me.

  “Of all people, I cannot believe that you would do something like this—something so totally stupid.”

  And that’s when my courage suddenly returns to me. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe I’m just fed up with everything, but now I’m ready to confront her. “How about you?” I begin in a defiant tone. “What are you doing here?”

  Her face is only a few inches from mine now, and it actually looks rather frightening in the greenish light that comes from the neon sign above the entrance to the bar.

  “For your information, little girl, I came here with a friend from the counseling center I work at. I’ve been trying to get her to come to church with me, and she told me that she would come to church if I would go to a bar with her to just talk—kind of a challenge, I guess. So I agreed to come, but only after I informed her that I would only drink a Coke.”

  “Oh.”

  “And furthermore, I am twenty-two and old enough to be in here legally, whereas you are not. How did you get in here anyway?”

  “My feet?”

  “Amber!” I swear I think she’s growling now.

  “Fake ID,” I say in a quiet voice, hoping that maybe she won’t hear me.

  “Let’s see it.”

  So I dig in my purse until I find the plastic card, and feeling like I’m about five years old and caught red-handed, I give it to her.

  “Thanks.” She sticks it in her purse.

  “Hey—”

  “Don’t hey me,” she says in the same tough voice that I’ve heard Simi use over the years when she’s mad. “You’re not getting it back. Don’t even ask—ever!”

  I shrug. “Yeah, well, that’s probably a good thing.”

  Now she seems to soften just a little. “Seriously, Amber, what is up with this? I mean, I just don’t get it. It’s not like you. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Now Claire is coming toward us, and I can tell by the way she’s walking, kind of like a slithering snake only upright, that she’s pretty smashed.

  “Wha’s going on out here?” she asks slowly as if she’s having a hard time forming the words. “You girls gonna fight or somethin’?”

  Lena looks totally exasperated now. “What’s going on is that I’m calling you two a taxi and you’re going straight home.

  “ “What about my car?” I ask.

  “Forget about it. You are not driving anywhere tonight, Amber Conrad. I cannot believe you would even consider—”

  “I’m not drunk,” I plead with her, even though I’m not so sure. “Really, Lena, I’m not drunk.”

  “Maybe not as drunk as your friend—what is your name anyway?” she demands.

  “Claire,” I answer quickly, not offering a last name just in case Lena is into calling parents tonight.

  “Where are your car keys, Amber?”

  “But I—”

  “No buts, Amber—unless you want me to call your dad right now. And then I’ll have to tell him where I found you and ask him to come pick you up.” She is brandishing her cell phone like a weapon now, so I dig around in my purse until I find my keys and, feeling like the village idiot, hand them over.

  Now Lena is dialing her cell phone, but it seems she’s talking to information, and it’s not long before she’s connected to a cab company and giving them the restaurant’s location. I feel totally helpless to do anything but stand there and watch as my life flashes before my eyes.

  Claire is in her own world now, singing a stupid Eminem song that I can’t even stand when I’m snookered—not that I am.

  “I’d take you home myself, but I need to give Debbie a ride.” She frowns. “Speaking of Debbie, I hate to have left her alone this long. We were actually having a really great conversation about forgiveness and grace.”

  “Barroom evangelism?” I say in my best sarcastic tone, the same line that Lena’s little sister used on me not so long ago.

  “Call it what you like, Amber, but at least I’m legal here, and I’m not drinking.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “There’s the cab now,” she says. Then, taking us both by the arms, she walks us over and opens the door and instructs the driver to take us to our homes and then hands him some money.

  I give him the address of Claire’s house first, but when we get there, she begs me to come in with her. “Nobody’s home,” she says in a sad voice. “Why don’ you come in and spend the night?”

  I almost agree, but then I realize that Lena will probably be checking up on me before long. “Not
tonight,” I tell her.

  “Next time,” she says as she waves and walks in a zigzag to her front door.

  I chew down several breath mints as the cab driver takes me home. I’m preparing myself for whatever might happen. I’m pretty sure there will be some kind of confrontation at my house.

  But when I get home, I am pleasantly surprised to see that no one is there. There’s a note from my parents saying that they’ve gone out for ice cream. Going out for ice cream is my parents’ idea of a romantic date. I guess it goes back to the days when they were dating and penniless. Whatever. I’m just relieved they’re not here yet.

  I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face. Then I go to the kitchen and make a strong pot of coffee. I figure that if I down a few cups, I just might be sober by the time the big confrontation occurs, because I feel certain that there will be one. It’s just a matter of time.

  It’s almost nine when the phone rings, and I’m not terribly surprised to discover it’s Lena.

  “Glad to see you made it home, Amber.”

  “Yeah, thanks a lot.”

  “Are your parents around?”

  “No, they went out for ice cream. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

  “Well, I just got home and I was talking to Simi, and she’s actually willing to drive your car home for you. I’m not even sure why.” “She’d do that for me?”

  “Yes. But only if you let her spend the night tonight. And only if you and she can have a nice long talk.”

  “Sure,” I say quickly. “That’s cool.”

  So now I’m thinking that maybe my parents won’t have to find out after all. Maybe I can make some kind of deal with Simi, or maybe I can make her understand how I feel, like how frustrated I am and how I never intended to go out drinking tonight.

  eighteen

  SIMI IS TOTALLY AMAZING. NOT ONLY IS SHE UNDERSTANDING AND SYMPA-thetic when I tell her that I didn’t want things to go like this tonight, but she says that she and Lena won’t tell my parents. Then when my parents get home, she chats pleasantly with them for a few minutes, and I show my mom my prom dress. And I can tell they think life is perfectly normal.