A Nearly Normal Family by M.T. Edvardsson

Author:M.T. Edvardsson [Edvardsson, M.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Celadon Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

54

I didn’t actually want to go out. It had been a long Friday at work, and the very thought of getting out of my sweatpants, fixing my hair, and putting on my face exhausted me.

“Come on,” said Amina, who had lined up shots on the desk. “For once I don’t have a match tomorrow.”

She wanted to go to Tegnérs, but said she was open to other ideas too.

“Know what you need?” she asked, handing me a shot glass brimming with surface tension. “To get laid.”

“Seriously? The only dudes I need right now are called Ben and Jerry.”

I balanced the glass in my hand, hesitating.

“Cheers,” said Amina, and we took the shots.

I did it to be a good friend. For Amina and the alcohol. After two ciders and several shots that were basically forced on me, my heart sped up and my body got warmer. I don’t usually drink that much. Amina started our “Party Like an Animal” playlist on Spotify and at last we sat on our bikes on our way to Tegnérs. It was early June and the nights were still chilly. I had to grip my skirt, which blew up around my legs.

Brimming with giggles and expectations, we stumbled into Tegnérs. The flashing lights made the dance floor overflow. Cascades of color were flung at us from every direction and the vibration of the bassline rumbled like cannon fire in our chests. Amina and I went all in. Purses on the floor and hands in the air.

A few guys from our old high school showed up and were shockingly entertaining. As I shot the shit with them, Amina disappeared over to the bar.

“Need a glass of water,” she said.

After quite some time, the guys had moved on and she still hadn’t come back.

I found her at the bar.

She was standing on tiptoe. She’s always wished she were a few inches taller. Her eyes sparkled, and between her lips she held a long straw that vanished into a toxically green drink. Next to her stood a guy in a paisley shirt, babbling as if he was afraid the oxygen was about to run out.

“So this is where you’re hiding?”

Amina jumped. The guy stopped midsentence and stared like I had just ruined his night. He was one of those classic hunks with thick, slicked-back hair and bright blue eyes. I realized that he was also old. At least ten years older than us.

“Who’s the grandpa?” I asked, dissecting him with my gaze.

Amina groaned, but Paisley Shirt chuckled, all laid-back.

“I’m not that old, am I?”

“It’s all relative. Al Pacino is like seventy-five. And Abraham lived to be one hundred and seventy-five, right?”

“Abraham?” Paisley Shirt asked as he waved the bartender over.

“From the Bible,” I said. “Like, the forefather of all religions.”

He ordered a drink across the bar before he looked at me.

“So you’re Christian?”

“Not at all. It’s called being well-informed.”

He laughed again. His teeth were a little too straight and white to seem natural.

“I apologize for her,” said Amina. “She’s not used to drinking.

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