Glitter, Guts, Glory

Tessa hangs around way too much for my liking. She always has to be around me and just talks. It's not even like Daisy type of talking, who engages you in conversation. Tessa talks about herself and her boring life and I don't really care for it. She also thinks she's a rockstar and goes full out with all the attention grabbing outfits.

I unpack self help books to put on the shelf and she sits crossed legged next to the box. She really should be doing something else. "So, how's the wife?" she asks out of the blue. My heart stops pathetically in my chest, remembering our earlier argument. See, I don't really plan on having kids. I don't like them too much. And what kind of family would they be coming into? A father who makes nine bucks an hour and a mother whose job is just a hobby? Don't even get me started on the grandparents and extended family. And I thought it would kind of be like a giant middle finger to my family, having a baby when Rose died not even two months ago.

But Daisy wants children. She wants a little baby to take care of and love unconditionally. She was practically raised to want babies, so I guess I can't really blame her for that. But things got heated and Daisy cries too easily, so I stormed out before coming to work. And maybe, just maybe, I brought up that we haven't had sex for a while. Sue me. But you know what, I have needs too, and she's been working late into the night on her paintings and says she isn't really 'in the mood.'

"She's fine," I answer Tessa.

"You don't sound fine," she says.

"We just had a minor little disagreement. It's nothing, but thanks for your concern."

She gets up, placing a hand on my arm. This is kind of Tessa's signature move but I don't like to be touched. "Look, why don't we go get some drinks later? It'll calm you down, take your mind off of things, you know?"

"I don't really drink," I muttered. The last time I got drunk, Daisy had to pull my sorry self home, and I kind of upchucked all over her shirt. Her shiny, sequined shirt and I never stopped feeling bad about it.

"Just one drink. It won't kill you," and because I'm such a weak human who already felt like shit, I agreed to a drink that would make me feel like more shit.