Today's Reading

We ended up at a table smack-dab in the middle of the busy cantina. After being locked away for the better part of the last year, this place was sensory overload with its colorful dècor, lots of people talking and laughing, and lively music playing over the speakers. I felt itchy inside and out, but I tried not to show it.

A young guy sidled up to the table with an offering of chips and salsa. "I'm Derrick. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Can I have a frozen strawberry margarita?"

Gilbert choked on his chip.

The waiter said, "Sure," like it was no big deal. In the normal world with normal folks, I guess that should have been the truth but not with me.

"A nonalcoholic one," I clarified, ignoring the huffing sounds coming from Gilbert. "We're both alcoholics, so please make sure it's a mocktail."

Derrick managed to hide his reaction rather well, even though his cheeks reddened. "Sure thing. And you, sir?"

"Just water." Tapping a finger on the table, Gilbert waited until the guy moved away. "You don't just go around blurtin' that mess out to just anybody."

"Why not? I bet he'll make sure to get my drink order correct."

Gilbert grumbled incoherently, apparently out of patience with me. Good. Hopefully, he'd dump me out in my driveway after lunch.

"Lighten up, Gilly." I searched the basket for a folded chip, my favorite, and dunked it in the salsa.

"You make me sound like a dang fish. Gilly." He made a face.

I angled my head and studied him. "You kinda look like a catfish, now that you've mentioned it."

Gilbert didn't dignify my lie with a response. Truthfully, he was a good-looking man and a sharp dresser. Today, he wore a navy sports coat with a crisp white button-down and dark-wash jeans. If Grandma Olla was still alive, I'd encourage her to flirt with him.

"Here ya go." Derrick placed the hot-pink beverage in front of me.

I gave it a sniff, not detecting any booze, just strawberries. "You sure this is a mocktail, right?" My joke now had me a little nervous.

He nodded. "Yes."

I took a cautious sip of the super-sweet slushie and wrinkled my nose. "Something's... something's not right with this..." I tested it again, almost giving myself a brain freeze.

Derrick's eyes widened. "What's wrong?"

"It's missing the tequila."

"Good grief." Gilbert kicked me under the table.

The waiter's brow furrowed. "But I thought you said..."

I held a palm up. "I'm just joking. It's fine. I'd like the carnitas, please. With a side of guacamole." An overly sweet smile stretched my face to full capacity, almost painfully so, reminding me I'd not used that expression in quite a long time.

"Oh. Okay." Derrick took our orders and wasted no time getting away from our table.

Gilbert swiped another chip and aggressively dunked it in the salsa. It's a wonder the poor chip didn't break. "Your joke sucked."

"Gotta keep ya on your toes, ole Gilly." I winked just to annoy him, even though my heart wasn't really into it.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and gave me a pointed glare. "Young lady, you need to take your sobriety seriously and stop actin' like a ninny."

"I don't believe I'm acting." 

"You are and it's not funny."

I stared at the frosty margarita glass. "But if I don't figure out a way to laugh through this, I'll be crying." My vision blurred as my composure began to slip underneath the deluge of guilt and shame.

Gilbert placed his hand on top of mine. "Breathe, Junie." He waited until I complied. "It's okay to laugh. More than okay. We just need to get you signed up for some comedy lessons. I'm sure your joke telling can improve with the right help." He patted my hand before letting go.

"You're not funny either," I muttered, grabbing an extra napkin to dry my eyes. "Gosh, I'm such a stupid, terrible person."

"No, you're not. You're just a typical human, who made a stupid, terrible mistake."

"Gee, thanks."

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