“But that’s your favorite book,” I said. “Are you sure you want to give it away?”
“I could give it back,” Sasha offered.
“Oh, nonsense,” Reginald said loudly. “The boy gave it to you.” He turned to me. “The boy gave it to her. He must want her to have it. Everyone stop pushing him.” He pointed a fork that was half full of spaghetti at R. J. “Son, do you want her to have that?”
R. J. looked at Sasha and after a second, he smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “I want her to have my book.”
Sasha was standing at the bedroom window, staring out into a rainy night. She was talking about how she needed to become more active in her life, really make her dreams come true and stop standing on the sidelines. I was lying center in the guest bed, my arms and legs akimbo. My head spinning, struggling to keep up with the speech that was losing me fast. My eyelids were shutting down and the ceiling fan spinning above my head looked like it was about to swallow me up.
I didn’t intend to go into Sasha’s room that last night. I was actually in my bedroom sliding off my slippers when Sasha showed up at the door holding a bottle of wine, announcing that it was her last night in town and she wanted to spend some quality time with me—her best friend. She pouted loud enough that Reginald, who’d been in the bathroom shaving and was wearing only gym shorts, stepped into the bedroom and waved us away like little girls.
“I’ll be back in just an hour, babe,” I’d said, but lying in the bed with the ceiling fan spinning, I knew that hour had become two. I’d had three glasses of the red wine and felt that ocean of diamonds sinking into me. I felt like I could see through the ceiling. See into space. See myself as myself. Reading Goodnight Moon to R. J. Lying with Cheyenne in the purple bedroom. Kissing Reginald’s spine until he turned to me. My eyes closed. I was floating.
“So, what do you think?” I heard this crash into my ocean.
I shook awake . . . only I wasn’t sure I’d been asleep.
“What?” I said as the fan came back into focus and I turned to the window to see Sasha standing there holding a half full glass of wine.
“What should I do next?” She looked at me expectantly.
“Do? Do about what?”
“About what I’m talking about. About my dreams. About going after the things I want when I know I should have them,” Sasha said. “God, Dawn, are you listening to me?” She sat down on the bed in her slinky ivory nightgown.
“I am . . . I am,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “My head is spinning. A little too much wine.” There were three Sashas. One at the window. One beside the bed. Another handing me a new glass of wine.
“Well, that’s every night,” Sasha joked. “Here, bite the snake that bit you.” She handed me the glass as I tried so hard to see her. Was she at the window, by the bed, or beside me?
“I can’t,” I said. “Too much . . . I’ve had too much.”
“Take it,” she insisted, lifting my hand and wrapping it around the little glass stem.
I took a sip.
“It tastes funny,” I said. There was a gritty and almost chalky aftertaste. I smacked my tongue to clean it off.
“You’re just buzzing,” Sasha said. “It’s the sediment. I told you before.” She laughed.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, looking from one Sasha to the next. “Red wine. The sediment . . .” I tried to hand the glass back.
“What?”
“I can’t,” I said. “I have work in the morning. I have to get up to read to R. J.”
“You can take off again. I can read to R. J.” She pushed the glass back closer to me.
“You know the rule: bite the snake that bit you. It’ll make you feel better.” She held the top of the glass as I held the bottom and raised it to my mouth. “Have some more.”
She kept the glass there until it was empty. Not a drip rolled down my chin.
“Oh,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
“That’s it, Dawnie! I knew you had it in you! The old college try!” She hopped up in the bed and got on her knees.
“I’m sorry I bored you with all of my lame work talk.”