Page 8 of Big Daddy to Go

I open the refrigerator, but it’s completely empty. Dinner isn’t happening. Maybe I have some vodka left. I open the cabinet my liquor is usually in. All I have is Goldschlager. Gross. I bought that for Jason since it’s his favorite.

I guess I’m going out for a drink. I head into the bathroom to make sure I look halfway decent. My curly hair is wilder than it usually is. I grab a clip to pull up the sides and tame it down a bit. The little make-up I put on before lunch is surprisingly still intact. I smooth my hands over my strapless maxi dress and decide I look presentable enough to be seen in public, so long as no one looks too closely.

Just a few blocks away is a dive bar called The Drunken Bucket. Melanie and I go to their happy hour every Friday night. It’s only Thursday, but I need something to take my mind off of things. Squaring my shoulders, I walk to The Drunken Bucket and head straight to the bar without making eye contact with anyone.

The Drunken Bucket is backlit by stained glass signs of various alcoholic beverages. String lights drape across the entire bar. The walls are cracking, signifying its advanced age, and there’s the smell of cheap beer in the air. The Drunken Bucket is not the classiest place, but fun times have been had here. I hope I’m not ruining those good memories by coming here depressed.

I take a seat on a stool; my ass fills the entire surface. Next to me, two petite girls giggle and flirt with the bartender, Ricky. They can fit both of their asses on one seat. I remind myself that it’s not them I’m mad at—it’s Jason.

How could he do this to me? We were supposed to spend our life together, and then he blows me off in front of all of those people! Not to mention the frivolous way he wasted everyone’s money and wrecked everyone’s plans. And then, to top it all off, he has the nerve to go on the honeymoonIpaid for!

My disbelief turns to disappointment which then turns to anger. This is the constant merry-go-round my emotions have been on for the past week.

“You look like you need a drink like … yesterday,” Ricky says, standing in front of me.

I look down, realizing that in my raging thoughts of Jason, I tore up two cocktail napkins. One is still clutched between my fingers. My cheeks burn in embarrassment, but I try to laugh it off.

“Sorry, Ricky. Rough week, I guess.”

“No apologies needed. What can I get you?”

I momentarily debate on a glass of wine, but I don’t want to mellow out. My body is filled with all sorts of emotions—rage, pain, and humiliation being the top three.

“Vodka on the rocks, please.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender says, knocking on the bar.

I glance around the place and see a couple on a date. They’re holding hands and stealing kisses. The guy whispers something in the girl’s ear that causes her to blush. As I admire the pair, I remember that Jason and I never really had that new relationship giddiness. Not only was my ex-fiancé standoffish, but he wasn’t good at being there for me in any sort of emotional or supportive way.

There were work functions he was supposed to be my date for that he didn’t show up to for one reason or another. There were plenty of forgotten birthdays and anniversaries.

When I was filling out wedding invitations, Jason was supposed to help me, but instead, he had to watch whatever sports game was on. He sat there with a pen in his hand, but it was all a farce since he didn’t fill out one single invitation.

While I sat there, trying to get through close to three-hundred invitations, I broke out into tears. Not over the invitations, even though I was pissed at him for not helping. No, my tears were caused by the realization that my fiancé was a schlub, albeit a rich one, and I was too cowardly to call our wedding off. I sobbed right in front of Jason’s face, yet he hadn’t even asked if I was okay. His eyes remained glued to the television.

Ricky places my drink down, once again interrupting my thoughts of Jason. I let out a deep breath. How did I almost marry such an asshole? I keep telling myself I should be thankful that this happened. Still, I wish I hadn’t been humiliated and feel so lost about it all.

I throw back the vodka as if I’m in a chugging contest.

“Keep them coming, please,” I request, slamming the glass down on the bar.

Ricky chuckles and grabs the glass.

“Yes, ma’am.”

As I wait for my next drink, I find myself searching for the cute couple once more. They’re no longer sitting in the corner. In their place is…Jason?!

My heart pounds against my chest. I want to march over to him and punch him! I want to humiliate him like he did me! Wait, isn’t Jason supposed to be in Bora Bora? Maybe he couldn’t go on our honeymoon due to his guilty conscience. Yeah, right! I doubt Jason has ever felt guilty about anything is his spoiled life.

I can’t help but stare, waiting for my ex-fiancé to notice me. But then, I lean closer and squint my eyes. Is that even Jason? It sure looks like him! His coal-black hair is perfectly combed, which isn’t like Jason, who keeps his hair too long for his mother’s liking.

Well, unless Jason got a haircut, this guy can’t be him. There’s also something different about his eyes. I can’t tell their color from this distance, but his are more intense than Jason’s. In fact, they practically glow in the dim light of the bar.

I’m still confused when the bartender places my drink down. I raise the glass to him and drink it in one gulp. Ricky shakes his head with a laugh and snatches the glass to get me another drink. I turn back toward Jason’s twin, but he’s gone!

It’s probably for the best anyway. I need to get Jason out of my head. He’s clearly bad news if he’s making me hallucinate at this point.

“Looking for someone?”