tuscaloosa > personals > missed connections
Cinchonism - Not My Party m4w
Date: 2010-08-19, 9:12PM CST
It must have gotten lost in the mail. Things get lost there sometimes: I tried to send a phonebook one state over and it never surfaced. Just the other day I heard about a woman who received a letter from her grandmother with a five dollar bill in it--her grandmother had been dead for seven years. It was the granddaughter's birthday. If I had a five dollar bill I would have put it with the invitation: it would've been a way to let you know that I was thinking about you, that things here are good and that I hope that things are good where you are. I understand the process. I have learned to forgive the process. You should have been here: it was nice. Everyone brought their own drinks. You always opted for gin: you only trust things that you can see through: windows, keyholes. I kept a green bottle in the freezer for you--the ice built up on the side of it, my palm turned red when I tried to twist the cap off of it to make someone a gin and tonic. There was no tonic, so the party was ruined. You were supposed to bring the tonic. You would always bring the tonic: you would arrive at my house, plastic bag in hand. You would make jokes about how we would never die from malaria--that the mosquitoes would drop dead the second our blood hit their tiny stomachs. I would be nervous, so I would peel the label off of the bottle and stretch it out length ways--a yellow flag: slow down. I never told you this, but my grandmother drank tonic water when she needed the taste of a drink without the alcohol. When I was younger, I took in a large mouthful thinking it was soda, looking for something sweet. How clever I was. My mouth filled with quarters, dimes, nickels. I licked the back of my hand to get the taste out of my mouth. My grandmother sends me a card every year for my birthday. Inside of it is five dollars. Some years it is a few days late: it arrives the 23rd, the 24th. Some years, I think she has forgotten about me. Yet, darling, the card always arrives.
- Location: Not My Party
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