BY THE TIME CANDY REAPPEARS with a bag of books and a bottle of vodka, we’ve migrated again to the kitchen table and sit studying the wood grain as though it contains powerful secrets. She takes no notice. She breezes in, pausing at one cabinet before retaking her seat at the table, where she plunks the bottle and four shot glasses between us with determination. “Now, I need a little stupid in me if I’m gonna do more than pretend. And for your sake, I’m gonna try.” She opens the bottle and pours. “You’re welcome to have a little. Not that any of you need much more stupid. Hi, May. Lucky I grabbed four.” Candy takes her shot and makes quick work of it. Nodding, Lenora May pulls one of the overfull glasses toward her as though she’s been handed a fine meal without silverware. I leave mine in the center of the table. I may not know what I’m going to do, but I do know I can’t do it drunk. Heath merely holds the shot between his fingers as if its presence is comfort enough.
