Honey Girl(50)

“This is the fuck-you,” she says, throwing her next shot at Raj.

Tequila drips down his face and shirt. It seeps into his hair and his eyes, and she knows it must burn. He waves away someone when they come over to check if things are okay.

This is me, says the monster from the deep. Here I am.

They’re silent. She stares hard at the table, her fingernail digging into the grout.

“Well,” he says finally. “Since we’re drunk and getting things off our chests—is there anything else you’d like to share with the class?”

She can’t help it—she laughs. These tight giggles that offset the way she wants to cry. They laugh, and they’re going to feel this, all of this, in the morning.

“I miss you,” Grace says once they quiet down again. “I miss you and Meera and Ximena and Agnes so much, I can hardly stand it. I’m not alone here, but I am lonely. I don’t know how to be this Grace Porter that isn’t chasing something. I don’t know how to deal with my big, grand plan falling apart.”

Raj listens.

She takes a deep breath.

“I don’t know why I started studying astronomy,” she says quietly. The room sways. “Jesus—maybe it was a fuck-you to Colonel. Maybe I wanted to show him I could do something for me and still be the best. That first year after switching my major, everything just clicked. I was so certain it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. And now I have to figure out how to make that happen, and it fucking sucks, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to—to diminish your shit just to talk about my shit. If I could, I’d make it better. I’d fix it.”

“I know.” She blinks down at her hands. “I have no idea how to fix it or make it better. I don’t know exactly what I want anymore. I just know that it includes Yuki. So, I’m here, and I’m trying not to think about the rest of it yet.”

Raj laughs softly. “She seemed a little vicious.”

“She is!” Grace exclaims. “She’s vicious and a little mean and kind and weird and patient and I—I got married to her. I want her, I know that. I just don’t know how to keep her and the rest of it. Eventually I’ll figure out where I need to be, and I don’t know how she fits into that. But I want her to fit. I want to keep her. I want to have one thing that’s just easy. That I don’t have to fight for.”

Raj holds his glass up. “Then we’ll drink to it,” he says. “To deserving things that are easy.”

They clink their glasses together like it is an intention. Grace closes her eyes and wishes for it like kids wish on stars.

Cheers.

Yuki wakes her up with toothpaste kisses all over her face.

Grace’s mouth tastes like cotton, tongue thick and swollen and a little sore. She blinks awake, and a sleepy Yuki hovers over her, black fringe in her eyes, metal piercings glinting, eyebrows raised.

“You cling like an octopus when you’re drunk,” she says. “And you smell like tequila, get up.”

Grace buries her face in the covers. “I don’t even remember getting home.”

Yuki narrows her eyes. “I had to come pick you up,” she says. “You and your brother owe me big-time. Why did you get that drunk?”

Grace sighs, the night coming back in pieces. “Sibling bonding.”

“Never been happier to be an only child. Now, get up.” Yuki shoves her lightly. “I’ll make you something to eat if you drink some water and take some painkillers.”

She moves to get off the bed, and Grace grabs her wrists and feels the small, delicate bones there. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “For taking care of me and getting me home.”

Yuki ducks her head. A rose flush blooms on her cheeks. “Anytime, Grace Porter.”

Grace follows her into the living room to find Raj buried under the covers on the small couch. All of Yuki’s roommates seem to be asleep or out, so Grace doesn’t feel subconscious pulling her hoodie up and hiding.

“Big brother,” she says, shaking him. “If you don’t get up, I’m telling Meera you can’t hold your liquor.”

An arm shoots out from under a thin blanket. It grabs Grace’s hand and squeezes.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he wheezes. “I’ll tell her about that time you smoked bad weed and spent the rest of the night trying to tightrope around the toilet seat.”

She shrieks and jumps on top of him, ignoring the way her stomach lurches. “You swore we would never speak of that again,” she hisses. “I’ll tell her about the night you finally got the nerve to ask Ximena out, but you were so drunk you ended up giving your whole speech to a mannequin instead.”

A sharp elbow knocks into her chest. “What about the time you accidentally took molly because the girl who offered it was so nice?” he counters. “You thought it was ibuprofen, and ended up getting stitches because you fell off a four-inch curb.”

He emerges from the blankets. Wild morning hair and bleary eyes glare at her. Grace says, “Like you would ever turn down a politely given pain reliever. Working in the lab gave me back pain, I thought it was obvious!” She shoves him, and he lets out a small oof. “Remember when you showed up to work drunk and Baba Vihaan thought you had a fever from how bad you were sweating?”