"I don't understand it myself," she said, tapping her fingers on the
worn wooden tabletop just like her father had done when she was a child.
"Mona,
it's obviously latent father stuff, I mean, seriously." Rachelle was in
no mood to dick around with Mona's pseudo confusion. She knew that Mona
knew exactly what was going on.
The restaurant was loud with a buzz like yellow light through a
glass of Prosecco, effervescent and warm. Tables of two mostly, with a
four-top in each of the three corners in the main dining room. Mona's
back was to the dark red velvet curtain which separated the foyer from
the bar on one side and dining room on the other.
Mona swilled her wine like a trucker, pushed her course brown hair
behind her ears with her pudgy fingers and looked at Rachelle drunkenly.
"Look Rachy, I realize you wanted to fuck your father, or wait, maybe
he wanted to fuck your best friend. Whatever." She looked around the
room as if she were in a swirling fishbowl. "But I have no desire for
daddy sex, okay?"
Rachelle rolled her eyes and folded the paper from her straw in half
lengthwise. "Honey, I know this is hard for you to believe, but no one
in their right mind would want to fuck their 69-year-old crabby-ass
neighbor unless they were dealing with some ancient childhood shit."
"Oh for the love of..." Mona picked up her glass and took another
drink. "God, I really like this Gewurztraminer. I mean, who knew right? A
wine I can actually remember. It's a first." She paused, inebriated.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's time I did something really bad."
Rachelle looked at her friend with satisfaction. She was sick of all the talk and no action.
"But Rachelle? I've never even been with a man. I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
Rachelle
put her palms flat on the table in front of her and lifted her head
until she was looking eye-to-eye with her best friend.
"Just go over there with a bottle of wine Mona, and then start asking him questions about his life."
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