Survival of the Unfit

Chapter 23

April

 “You’re serious?” Violet asked in that drone of hers, the familiar one that suggested she cared about nothing and no one and was pretty much just annoyed with living.

I scratched the back of my head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, you’re probably the wrong person to ask. I’m sorry, this is so rude of me. Forget it.” My face heated up and I made a beeline for the bathroom, but Violet stopped me by the work apron. Jesus, how could I be so dumb. No, how could I be so downright rude?  

“Hey, wait. I never said no.” She turned me back around to face her, hand on my shoulder.

“No?” I repeated, growing more confused.

“I can get you some, relax,” she replied. “You just don’t look like the type.” Her eyes scanned me up and down, a small smirk growing on her face. She laughed and muttered. “I really would’ve never guessed.”

“Uh yeah, you know. I’m just that badass,” I joked, hitting her shoulder. She raised an annoyed eyebrow and I quit laughing.

“Well, just tell me what you like and I’ll have it for you Saturday.” Her hand slid off my shoulder and she went to walk back to the cash register.

“Wait, Violet,” I said again. She turned around and I lowered my voice, glancing about the place nervously. “Can I get it any earlier?”

“What, you mean like Friday?” she said. “That’s the earliest I can do.”

“Yeah, Friday sounds good,” I agreed. Cautiously, I continued, “How exactly am I getting it, then?”

“Take my shift Friday,” she bargained, adjusting her apron. “I’ll drop it off before heading to Derek’s. He’s on the way.”

I pursed my lips, but told her deal anyway. “Get me something dry.”

“Dry, got it.”

“Thanks again,” I grumbled, a little miffed I’d have to work on a weekday. Whatever, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make for a little bit of alcohol. 

“You know,” she started as I walked back to my station, “Drinking alone is no fun, April.” I turned. She quit readjusting her apron to look at me apologetically, mouth twisted up unsurely. “Unless you’re trying to forget something.” 

I tapped my feet together and scratched the back of my head, but she lifted my chin up with a gentle finger and looked me in the eye. She smiled the slightest, expression laced with a pity I didn’t know she could possess. Empathetic, for once. 

“You can come to Derek’s and drink Saturday night, he’s having a small party. You can hang with me, too. I know Brandy’s death was...” Violet drifted off. “Was tough, no, but don’t drink yourself to death.” A small, sad smile crept across her face.

“No, no, really, I’m okay,” I said, gently pulling her hand away. She was really close to me too, for some reason. Uncomfortably close, kind of that invaded-bubble feel. I stepped back a few inches. “Thanks for the offer though. And I won’t.”

She had a small smile on her face again. “Alright. Friday it is.”

I nodded and backed away, kind of freaked out by how nice she was being. “Friday.”

Going back behind the wall, I leaned over the counter and took a deep breath. My heart seemed to be fluttering, it was beating so quick, but my mind was decently calm. I was fine. Completely fine. I was just getting a bottle of wine from a friend for some leisure drinking, nothing big. I was fine. I’d just keep it in a cooler in the back of my car or something, in one that doesn’t leak. It’d last me awhile, I could maybe buy my own mini fridge with the next paycheck or two. It’d be fine. I’d be fine, certainly. My parents wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t drink enough to get wasted.