“Gone.” Trisha nods her thanks when the bartender refills her glass.
“On a business trip?” I shake my head no when he tries to refill mine.
“Moved out.” She avoids my eyes while relaying the news. She empties half of her second glass. “A few days ago.”
I stare at her, sure she is joking. “Trisha?” When she doesn’t answer, I grip her upper arm and turn her toward me. She rotates her face away, staring at the bottles that line the shelves behind the bar. Her deep swallows are the only indication I have she is telling me the truth. “Why?” I ask, sadness settling deep within me. She was the one who was supposed to be okay. The one whose compass was set, her way guided.
“No reason.”
A well-dressed man in his midforties interrupts us. He takes the stool right next to Trisha’s. Already nursing a mixed drink, he is clearly not at the bar for another. I roll my eyes when he swivels toward us, his gaze roaming over Trisha’s left hand before landing on mine.
“I’m Zach.”
“We’re busy,” I reply, as rudely as I can.
“Not nice,” Trisha scolds me. She thrusts out her hand to shake his. “I’m Trisha. And you are?”
“Zach,” I remind her.
“Can I buy you ladies a drink?” Zach asks, keeping his gaze on Trisha. Apparently, he has decided the less sober one is the best chance he has tonight. “What are you drinking?”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” Trisha decides. “Bartender?” She tries to snap her fingers, succeeding in making no sound at all.
My sister is not only drunk but rude as well. I lean past her just as our friend Zach gets the bartender’s attention and orders us a round of drinks. “Listen, Zach, I really appreciate the drinks, but this is not a good night.”
“You’ll have to excuse my sister.” Trisha pushes me back onto my stool and runs her hand through her hair. Her feeble attempt at flirting would be hilarious if it weren’t so sad. “She just got back from a far, far away place. Worlds away. She isn’t quite herself yet.”
“Really?” Zach inquires, feigning interest. “Where did you travel?”
“New York.” I try to reach for the drink before Trisha. She proves faster than me and downs it in two gulps. Her eyes bulge as it burns going down her throat. A small part of me is glad for her pain. Maybe it will stop her shenanigans and she will tell me what is going on. “Great city. It’s like a whole other world.” If Zach has caught on to my sarcasm he doesn’t let on.
“I travel there for work quite a bit. I’m in sales.”
I want to point out that I didn’t ask, but that would mean continuing the conversation with him, and no purpose would be served. Instead I take out my wallet and pay for the two drinks he just bought us. I slide my untouched one toward him. “On me. Enjoy.” Grabbing Trisha’s hand, I pull on her hand. “I’d better get my sister home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Trisha moans, the alcohol taking effect. “Eric . . .”
“Eric?” Zach asks.
Zach has started to become an annoyance, and my sister a liability. “Eric is her husband. Hence the ring you saw on her finger when you sat down. He apparently just left her, which is why she’s drinking herself into oblivion. That information may not matter to you, but this will: Neither my sister nor I will be sleeping with you tonight. She won’t because she’s three sheets to the wind and will most likely spend the night vomiting. I won’t because I have absolutely no interest in you. No offense.”
Zach gets the message, thank goodness, and turns his stool toward the person on his other side. Not without taking the drink I slid his way, however. Sighing, I hold on to Trisha’s hand tight. She is surprisingly strong. Gathering all of our stuff, I somehow get us both into the car and head toward her house.