Dear Valentina [The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel]

☆ Chapter Fifteen: A Godsend Before Christmas

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.     A GODSEND BEFORE CHRISTMAS

☆

June, 1954.

      Valerie wondered how many cocktails would be considered trashy. She debated this for a moment while standing in front of the bar, eyeing the high-end bottles of whiskey, and sweet vermouth, and orange bitters. Nervously, after feeling a stare burn holes into her ducked forehead, she glanced up at the bartender and let out an awkward laugh, before opening the clutch of her purse. "Amaretto and coke, please."

      The man, decked in a firmly pressed suit, nodded briskly, before gliding off to make her drink. Valerie kept her eyeline firm on the bar top, tapping her painted nails against the wood, before spinning around to watch the show. The newly wedded couple — Mr. and Mrs. Maisel — were being thrusted into the air by the groomsmen while sitting on chairs. Judging by how most of the guests were holding hands and dancing in a circle around them, this wasn't odd by any means. Admittedly, Valerie was ignorant to Judaism and had never attended a Jewish wedding before, so seeing people on chairs being thrown into the air was a bit of a stretch for her to grasp. Still, she kept an open mind. 

      Naturally, her eyes drifted to the outer corners of the room, and landed on her boyfriend's parents not dancing, but standing side-by-side a few feet away, their regards locked onto the performance. Selena, dawning a decadent black gown with ruffles at the end and sporting a gorgeous mane of shiny black hair that flowed over her shoulders, had her arm interlocked with her husband and daintily sipped a glass of white wine, smiling widely as Midge was spun around. Benito, wearing his expensive grey tuxedo handsomely, possessed his typical (at least from her observations) stoic expression while sipping his bourbon. Despite his emotionless expression and rigid, almost intimidating posture, he kept tenderly rubbing circles into his wife's palm, Valerie noticed.

      "Amaretto and coke." A voice said from behind, and when the blonde turned, a dark drink filled with ice and a lime slice was slid in front of her. Quietly, Valerie thanked the man and took a timid sip. Any type of amaretto drink was tasty enough for her, but it was the exact opposite of her usual Manhattan: it was sweet and almost-flavored, the exact opposite of her, she felt like. But she had been gradually sipping on Manhattans the entire night, and after what felt like an everlasting period of suspended judgement from not only her boyfriend's parents, but the rest of the uptight and conservative patrons, she switched to a cocktail that was half soda. It didn't quite have the same kick to it, but the twenty-two year old could live.