I didn’t sit up. I wasn’t yet sure how my stomach would react and I didn’t want to clean up last night’s “after drinking food frenzy”.
I’m pretty sure I liked it the first time and didn’t want to spoil the memory.
Hanah and I almost always closed the bars. We never left (willingly) while there was still loud music slamming against the walls and bouncing around our ears.
We didn’t want to miss a second of the night. We both worked hard and right now we saw no reason not to play as hard as we worked.
We also loved dancing to live music. And, for the record, I had yet to fall in love. So, there’s that.
We both had started working for the Journal at the same time about two years ago. Hanah had worked for the St. Paul Gazette for about a year but left after hearing too many rumors it was folding. The ink on my journalism degree was still a little wet.
There had been an orientation/tour meeting for new employees and afterward we both agreed that even though it was only 2:00 in the afternoon, greasy hamburgers and cold beers at The Little Pony sounded like a great idea. A friendship was born.
Hanah had been married for only a few months when she realized that husband Harry was having too much fun on the road as a clothing rep for Nike. Marriage done.
She didn’t believe in second chances and when you saw her you understood why. She was beautiful inside and out from head to toe. Men actually stopped talking when she walked by. She was sweet, friendly, bat-shit smart and shared the title of “best friend” with my new room-mate Abby.
“Charlie!! Are you awake yet?? A voice from away made my brain hurt.
“I’m going over to Jack’s for some cinnamon rolls.” Abby’s voice was way too cheery for me this morning, not to mention too loud.
“I’m up,” I try to whisper loudly toward my open bedroom door and I hear the front door slam. Ouch.