My father had grown up spending most of his life swimming in the bottom of bottles. He didn’t really know or understand that he was living in a bottle at the time, through the glass that’s just what the rest of the world looked like to him. It was only when a group of similar minded people found him and helped him climb out did he realize that there was an entire world composed of completely dry land, and he could see that one so much better. He hadn’t had a drink in over a year, but here at this party he could feel it’s presence all around him. That prickle, that tangle, that tickling sensation hit him the same way that gritty nails-on-a-chalkboard sound did, and it left his hair standing on end. The taste in his mouth was bitter.

He looked down at his cup and swirled his club soda. He wouldn’t drink today, tonight, or any other time. It left him more nervous and a bit more shy, but that child-like self of his he’d buried beneath pools of vodka was starting to bloom again. His wit was getting sharper, his smile was getting crisper, and his laugh lines were getting deeper. So far, he liked the person he was becoming, or at least thought he did. It was, after all, a learning process, and he was both the student and the teacher.

He heard his friends from across the room before he even looked up from his cup. All of them had laughs that boomed and cracked like the night sky on the Fourth of July, and sometimes their faces flushed hot pink from either the joke itself or the alcohol that often accompanied it. My father’s face was hot not from drunkenness, but because the room had grown humid from the sweat that hung in the air. Cletus and Mike were laughing red hot and loud because they got Roy to chug another solo cup fresh from the keg, and beer came out of his nose a little bit. This group of men had a boy’s sense of humor that could only come from growing up on the same street and never being more than a ten-minute walking distance from each other. All of them already had siblings, but growing up on Burncoate Drive gave them more honorary ones, a family chosen rather than born into. Sometimes they liked those siblings more.

When my father approached his friends again he was greeted by a slap on the shoulder by Cletus, and was debriefed on everything he just saw but in a closer more play-by-play way. Roy was using one of those colored party napkins to wipe the beer off of his chin, and despite being embarrassed a bit, he too couldn’t keep from laughing. It was easy to be happy with these guys and that’s what made ignoring the alcohol so much easier for my father. His friends weren’t a distraction to him, they were more of a living, breathing, driving force; a collective group that left his throat scratchy and stomach tight from laughter. They fed him joy and happiness like a prescription and it kept the nagging and tugging of the alcohol at bay. It became easy, second nature.

It was here, from across the room, that my father saw a young woman he didn’t know talk to Roy’s mother, who he did know. She looked to be about his own age, dressed in a tee shirt that was tucked neatly into her jeans. Her hair was worn down in curls that framed her face well enough to display how poorly she tried to hide her rolling eyes from Roy’s mother. She wore a lazy smile easily across her lips, which meant she got away with that type of behavior. Her cheeks were flushed pink either from heat or drunkenness as well. My father wasn’t aware which of the latter was true, but he was becoming aware that for some reason, he could not look away from her.

My mother had been at the party for a little over an hour and despite having a good enough of a time, she couldn’t help the bubble of irritation that was beginning to boil in her stomach. She felt guilty for it of course, Roy was her cousin and her and her siblings had travelled the eight hours from Mississippi to Missouri to make it on time for his graduation. Her brother, Frank, apparently found through his own research that the best way to celebrate this was by squandering his money playing poker in the basement. It became my mother’s job to refill his solo cup whenever it got empty, and she was on her fourth time going up the stairs when she couldn’t help her frustration any more.

“Please don’t tell me all of this has been for you.” Aunt Janet said.

“Are you kidding me?” my mother said, “Of course not. Frank will throw a fit if I don’t bring him his refills every ten minutes though.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know. You could just leave him. You should just leave him.” My mother gently rolled her eyes and hoped her aunt wouldn’t notice. She probably did though, her aunt was as perceptive as her own mother.

“I don’t want him to get crabby in front of everyone.” My mother said.

“Honey it’s Frank, he was crabby when he walked through the door.” Aunt Janet finished as she walked away.

My mother let out a sigh and continued to the keg. Roy’s friends were crowded around the table laughing loudly at something she didn’t see or hear. From here she could see Cletus, the one she always thought was cute; and Mike, the one they always called Hairball, and for good reason. Roy had spittle on his chin and was laughing at something a boy she didn’t recognize had said. He seemed more reserved than the others, with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his own solo cup. He had tan skin and dimples so deep they looked more like canyons, and she felt instantly hotter in the face and couldn’t tell if it was from the running around or looking at that boy a moment too long. She kept her gaze low as she filled up Frank’s cup.

“Geez woman, how many beers are you going to have tonight?” Roy asked as he enveloped her in a half hug. She let out a small chuckle that sounded more defeated than she intended it to.

“You know how Frank can get.” My mother said.

“Just ditch him,” Roy said. “Stay up here with us. That’s where the real party is anyway.” My mother smiled again. “I will at some point, I promise. I just don’t want him to get too crazy tonight.” Roy just shrugged his shoulders in understanding.

The other boys were discussing something else amongst themselves, but she did catch the eyes of the dark-haired boy once more before she departed. She tried not to dwell on the furrow of his eyebrows and the crinkle of his forehead as he listened to what she had said.

In all honesty, my father had taken some sort of secondhand offense to what my mother had told Roy. He assumed that Frank was her boyfriend, which he was a little afraid to admit to himself how irritated that made him. He didn’t like a word that came out of her mouth about him and he couldn’t help but think how much better she deserved than that. His feet moved against his will and he began to follow her downstairs. He looked back at Cletus and Mike and Roy and told them he wanted to check out the basement and he thought for a moment that this might be crazy, that she might think him strange, but he hoped for the best and followed her anyway, swallowing his nervousness with every step. Roy’s mother caught his eye and pulled him aside before he could go downstairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Roy’s mother asked.

“I wanted to check out the basement for a minute,” my father said, “Is Carl down there?” Roy’s mother looked like she knew something he didn’t, and it left curiosity gnawing in him from his fingers to his toes.

“Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were looking at my niece just earlier.” My father couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on. I have known you since you were a kid, I know what it looks like when you’re smitten with someone.” Roy’s mother said. She was right, she had known him since he was a kid. My father was actually pretty certain she’d known him since he was a baby.

“She’s a very pretty girl.” Was all my father said, desperately trying to avoid talking to his friend’s mother about girls at said friend’s graduation party. It made him feel like a kid again.

“Yeah she is. Why haven’t you tried talking to her? It’s not like she hasn’t been looking at you too.” When Roy’s mother said this, my father puzzled over it for a moment.

“What about her boyfriend though? That guy she’s with. What was it? Frank?” He asked. Roy’s mother blinked at my father for a moment before laughing so hard her voice cracked a bit. My father puzzled over this more. “What’s so funny?” Roy’s mother still needed a minute more before she stopped laughing though, leaving my father antsy and a tad embarrassed over something he didn’t even know yet.

“Oh, that is too good. Frank is her older brother you damn knucklehead. If you spoke a word to her you’d know that. Now will you please talk to the poor girl instead of staring at her all night?” Roy’s mother said.

In that moment, my father felt like both the stupidest man on the planet as well as the luckiest. All he could do was nod his head at Roy’s mother, which sent her into another smaller fit of laughter, and continue his journey to the basement. He had no idea what he would say to her, he had no idea what to do, but he had to do something or else he felt as though he’d regret it forever. It was only when he reached the threshold of the basement did he realize how much he was overthinking what was happening, because she stood right there in front of him, empty solo cup in hand, looking like the answer to a question he didn’t even know he’d been asking his whole life.

“Hi.” My mother said.

“Hi.” My father said.

He could see it now that he was up close, her eyes were green, and she had a few faint freckles from days in the sun lingering across her nose. Her perfume was subtle but bold enough to notice, and he did. He became aware that they were just standing and staring at each other for some time. He became aware that that didn’t bother him. He became aware that they ended up spending the whole evening talking to each other, until the stars came out and the man in the moon greeted them; except to my mother she never saw the man in the moon, she said she could only see a rabbit instead. It must have been luck though, because as it would happen, when they bid each other goodnight my mother slipped my father her phone number, and over time they would call each other every single night. Over time an eight-hour drive didn’t seem too far apart, and over time it ended up being that there wasn’t a distance farther than the other side of the bed.