Tequila and Swiss Women (Nyotalia)
Roland leaned over the bar and snapped her fingers. "Heeey! Bartender!"
The man glanced over at her and set down the glass he had been cleaning. "Yes?"
"Sorry, I don't know your name but... could you just give me the whole bottle, please? I don't really want to call you over every two seconds to refill my glass." Roland sighed, pushing her cup away from her.
The man slid the bottle of tequila over to her and went back to his cleaning.
She sipped from it and stared down at the wood of the counter. Her life was such a wreck. It was never supposed to happen like that. She could just about cry. It was all so utterly ridiculous. Here she was, drinking tequila, which she did not even like, when the whole thing was her fault anyway.
"Hi, could I have a glass of Goldshläger?" a pretty girl asked as she sat in the stool next to Roland.
The bartender looked over at her. "I'm sorry, what'd you ask for?"
"Goldshläger?" The woman repeated, tugging on one of her blonde braids.
"I don't think we have any, but we do have regular Schnapps, if that works." The man offered.
"Yes, that's fine." The woman sighed and mumbled something to herself in what sounded like Italian.
"Where are you from?" the bartender asked as he poured her drink. Roland tipped the bottle of tequila up for another drink and pretended she was not listening. It was not like she had much better to do then to eavesdrop on others' conversations.
"Switzerland." The woman told him taking her glass and sipping from it.
"That's quite a long ways. What brings you here to America?" the man asked, picking up another glass to dry off.
The woman rolled her eyes. "You really don't have to make small talk with me. I just want to drink this and then leave, okay?"
The bartender walked away to tend to another customer looking a little slighted. Roland peered down at her clear drink, and remembered that was exactly how Daniel had looked, only more like he had just been slapped on top of being turned down. Guilt stirred up in her stomach. It really was not Daniel's fault. He deserved someone better, someone interested in him. She was not entirely certain why she had thought the marriage would have worked. Granted, when she had married the man she was extremely drunk and cheap enough to hope that marrying her best friend would not have too many problems.
She felt the tears rolling down her face as she drank a much larger swallow of her tequila. Her stomach turned at both the horror of crying in a public place and the sharp, woody taste of the liquor. This only made her cry harder until she was basically sobbing and mostly trying not to choke on her drinks between gasps for air.
"Hey... uh... are you okay?" the woman next to her asked tentatively in a very quiet voice. She sounded incredibly uncomfortable.
"I am sooooorry I kn-know I am m-making a scene." Roland said, having a little trouble with her words due to her crying and the effects of the drink.
"I... well... Do you need to talk about it?" The woman asked, looking very much like she was hoping Roland would walk out without another word.
"Sort of. I knooow you do not want to talk to aaanyone..." Roland trailed off, mentally berating her accent for making the whole thing harder to say.
"It's fine. You obviously need someone to talk to. Also, maybe you should not drink anymore." The woman said, taking Roland's bottle away.
"I just got a d-di-div-divorce and it has not b-been exactly eeeasy." Roland said, her hands moving to play with her cravat as they no longer had a drink to occupy them.
"What happened?" The woman asked, setting her own drink down.
"M-men do not typically want to st-stay married to a l-lesbian." Roland stammered and tried to make herself stop fidgeting because it was really horribly unladylike, but so was sobbing and slurring like a pathetic drunkard.
The woman's eyes widened and for a minute, Roland expected her to get up and walk away out of disgust. However, the woman only sighed. "I suppose they do not."
"So, wh-why are you here?" Roland asked, embarrassed.
"I am not exactly busy. My little brother is away with some friends for a week." The woman shrugged.
"I a-am Roland. I s'pose I should have int-introduced myself f-first. Roland smiled weakly, trying in vain to dry off her face.
"Adelheid." the blonde woman said with a very small smile, offering a tissue she had pulled from her purse.
"Th-thank you." Roland accepted it. "I really am t-terribly sorry for my b-behavior. Not very ladylike, is it?"
"It is alright. Do you..." Adelheid hesitated, biting her lip. "Do you need a ride home?"
"N-no, I am quite fine. I do not need to b-burden you anymore." Roland said, shaking her head.
"It is not that much trouble. I can't let you drive yourself home like that." The blonde protested.
"I g-guess I'm not in m-much of a state for driving." Roland mumbled, certain she was blushing.
The woman stood up and Roland shook her head when she saw her pulling out her wallet. "N-no. At least let m-me pay for your drink."
Adelheid hesitated but closed her purse, looking down at the floor. "Thank you."
Roland payed for both their drinks and followed Adelheid to her truck. It was quite small and looked fairly old; the rust was not helping matters. She climbed in carefully, trying to keep her shaky hands from trembling quite so much. The drive to her apartment was fairly quiet except for Roland's instructions on how to get there. There was an awkward couple of minutes while Roland tried to decide whether to just thank her and leave or what before she finally spoke up.
"Thank you for the ride. You... um... we should.... if you..." Roland attempted with little success at speaking an actual sentence. "Would you mind meeting again sometime? It seems a little odd to just leave and... well, I would be lying if I said I did not really need a friend."
"I would be okay with that." Adelheid nodded, taking out her phone. "What's your number?"
Roland told her and then got Adelheid's. "Thank you again." Roland said, getting out. "I'll try to text you tomorrow."
"Okay. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."