Chapter 69
The kitchen light clicked off, and before Bethany could come over to join her, Dana prompted, “Don’t forget the other bottle of wine.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” her friend asked.
Dana threw a glance over her shoulder. “Well, I meant for you. Bring yourself a glass, too. Jeez.”
At the counter, Bethany stared Dana down until it was obvious Dana knew she knew Dana wasn’t interested sharing the wine. Then she turned and retrieved the bottle and a second glass, and came to join her in the living room. Dana was sitting in the center of the two-cushion couch, and didn’t bother moving one way or the other as Bethany approached, so she had to squeeze into a spot between Dana and the arm of the couch. As she uncorked the wine, she said, “For the record, Bethany only sounds French, but it really isn’t. It’s Hebrew, and in French it’d be pronounced Bey-teh-knee. The French don’t have the thsound. Even the word for tea, which is spelled like the, is pronounced tay.”
“Look at you, teaching me French.” Dana leaned against Bethany’s arm, her glass out, eager for more wine. “Hit me one more time, baby.”
The light from the above the stove cast deep shadows over Bethany’s face, masking it so Dana couldn’t read her friend’s expression. But Bethany poured her another glass, then filled the second glass, as well, without commentary.
As she set the bottle aside, Dana chinked their glasses together. “Cheers,” she said, then downed her glass in one swallow.
Bethany frowned at her. “Dana, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Dana pulled back, defensive. She wished the bottle was closer so she could get another glass without reaching past Bethany to do so, then eyed Bethany’s untouched drink. You gonna drink that?she wondered. When she opened her mouth to ask, though, the words that came out instead were, “Why does anything have to be wrong? I’m just relaxing, having a drink—”
“Sitting in the dark,” Bethany pointed out, “alone, getting drunk.”
Dana pouted. “You make it sound so bad.”
With a shrug, Bethany said, “Well, it doesn’t look very good.”
“We used to do this all the time back in DC,” Dana reminded her. “Sit on the futon and watch the skyline—God, we had a view, didn’t we? Kick back, shoot the shit, watch the lights out over the Potomac. What happened to us, Bethy?”
“What do you mean?”
Dana sighed. “Us. You and me. We’re living two different lives now, you know? I hardly ever see you anymore—”
“Because I’m working,” Bethany interjected. “You are, too. We’ve gotten busy. It’s part of growing up.”
“Well, it sucks.” Dana raised her glass to her lips before she remembered there was nothing in it and set it back in her lap. “I don’t like it. Any of it. This city, the damn building outside all our windows that blocks out everything else. My job, yourjob—”
Laughing, Bethany asked, “Myjob? How can you not like myjob? It pays all the bills.”
“And keeps you away from me.” Dana twirled her wine glass and pouted at the way the scant light played off it. “We barely see each other and you know it. I come home to an empty house every night, eat dinner by myself, get up in the morning and you’re already gone—”
“Jesus.” Bethany took a shaky breath and chased it down with a sip from her glass, finally. Dana watched her greedily, eager for another drink herself. “You make it sound like we’re an old married couple. I know I’m busy. I’m sorry I’m not around more, but you have to understand, I’m still pretty low on the totem pole at the office. If someone doesn’t want to do something that has to get done, they pass it onto me. I have to leave so early just to get there on time. I mean, yeah, I have a bike, but it takes thirty minutes weaving through busy streets in early morning rush hour and that’s if traffic isn’theavy. Coming home takes almost twice as long some days, I don’t know why—”
“What time to do you usually leave?” Dana felt bad now, complaining like a petulant child that she never got to see Bethany when her friend had bigger issues just to get to work.