Mauve (4)

“He sounds like an ass,” says Levi, swishing the few, measly drops of alcohol we have left around the bottom of his flask.

            “He is.” I’m slurring, but only slightly. But I like it, it feels good to slur right now.

            “You know what I’d do if I saw him?” he asks.

            “What?”

            “I’d pop ‘im one. Right in the elbow.”

            “The elbow?”

            “’Cause folks say it’s the weakest part of your body… or is it the strongest?”

            He looks like he’s fallen into deep thought and I can’t help that I think it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I start laughing and soon I can’t stop the guffaws wracking my chest cavity.

            Levi doesn’t even ask, but starts laughing along with me.

            Disregarding all control of ourselves, we laugh, drunk as artists, on the steps of a funeral home.

            “Leah, what the hell?!” Bobbi’s voice behind me is a shrill jackhammer, only penetrating halfway into my soft drunkenness.

            I turn.

            “What are you doing?” she asks, her face contorting into that half-disgusted half-superior look I know she’s so fond of.

            I take a few seconds to collect myself after such an episode. Levi and I are still snickering when I wipe my eyes of the tears and face my oldest friend.

            “Sorry, Bob. I was just sitting here with my new friend. Levi, like the jeans,” I say.

            She obviously can tell I’m somewhat inebriated. She huffs and scurries forward to help me to my feet.

            As I steady myself in those stupid stiletto heels, she turns to Levi with her ‘don’t mess with me’ face.

            “You better not have tried anything, wise guy,” I hear her mutter.

            “Love, I don’t try at anything but jigsaw puzzles. Though I never have finished one of the damn things.”

            Bobbi leads me a couple steps away where I find Amanda and Tarah had been standing the entire time.

            “God, look at you,” Bobbi says, trying to pat down my hair, “We were just gearing up to go out for drinks, but it looks like you already beat us to it.”

            I tilt forward in my heels, feeling progressively more drunk by the second. Now that I think about it, Levi might have gone back inside to refill the flask, two, maybe three times.

            She sighs, “I’m taking you home,” she says, and loops an arm around my shoulders.

            “What about Lucky Sam’s, Bobbi?” asks Amanda.

            “Give me ten minutes,” Bobbi calls behind her as she leads me to the car.

            The slamming of the door is the last loud sound I remember hearing for hours.