Blame the Alcohol

It all started six years ago, at a party I hardly remember. I blame the alcohol because that’s the only way I made it through those things. Until he changed all that. Let me introduce myself. I am Amarissa Frey Johnson, taking you back six years ago when I was eighteen.

Drinks flowing.

I took a swig of the illegal, bootlegged  liquor. After all, what underage gal from the country, or anywhere else for that matter, don’t, at some point go behind her folks’ back? It burned on its way, but flowed smoothly down my throat and into my stomach. I smiled at the sexy group of guys next to me, contemplatin’ my options. They were topless, six-packs and farmer tans showing in the moonlight. I smiled. Sauntered up, my raven-colored waves blowing in the breeze, a flirtatious smile on my tequila flavored lips.

”How’d a bunch of good lookin’ fellas like y’all get stuck dateless tonight?” I batted my lashes at the tallest and darkest one among them. I shrugged my light-material button-down plaid off one shoulder. I unbuttoned the top five, sayin’ it was necessary from the heat of the night. I didn’t care that it revealed too much of my c-cup cleavage, not even when one of the guys gave a low whistle of appreciation. He leaned down and kissed me. I kissed back, snakin‘ my darkened arms around his neck. I blamed the tequila.

Shadows dancing. 

I laughed and talked about the days gone by. Reminiscing on loves lost at my young and ripe age of eighteen. I bitched over the struggles of being a teenage farm girl from the middle of Bumfuck, USA. I ran from the shadows, scared to be caught in their inky depths. Who knew what would happen if they lured me in?

Up at the crack ass of dawn. Working in the blazing summer heat of the Deep South. Throwing bales of hay. Plowing fields. Grazing the cattle. Feeding slop to the hogs. Splitting wood for the upcoming winter, on the off-chance of snow. Clearing out the barn. Picking peaches. Fixing fences. All the things that a female couldn’t do a century ago, things females weren’t allowed to do.

The upside of the farm life was the cornfield parties late at night. Usually, but not all the damned time. They raged starting Friday night. We drank and partied til the crack of dawn, dragged our asses home for a full day of work, and went back to the party Saturday night before dragging our asses to church Sunday morning. We‘d sleep off the hangovers after Sunday dinner, hit the hay early Sunday night, and be ready for a full week of work Monday mornin. Flames made it appear that the shadows danced in and out of the grinding bodies. I blamed the moonshine for my fears of the dark and my bitchiness.

Spin The Bottle

I kissed him, and nearly all the others, but him the most. Starlight played with his baby blue eyes, or maybe it was me getting drunk. I kissed guys and girls, throwing some back with every kiss. I made out with three hot guys and two gorgeous girls. I blame the wine for my actions.

Upbeat country music blaring. 

We were just country boys and girls getting down on the farm. Mary-Jane, Pearl, and their boyfriends were skinny dipping in the river. Matthew and Johnny were zip lining across and into the tree-line on the other side. Billy-Jean and Clay were fucking in the hayloft while Sarah and Mark we’re getting it on in the woodshed.

Tim McGraw and Brantley Gilbert blared as the rest of us did the boot scooting boogie and do-si-doed. We did the cotton-eyed-joe, and several other lien dances before forming a major circle to our own boot-stomps. I spun around with all them cowboys at least once, sometimes multiple go-rounds with the same fellow. I thought they were some fine-looking fellows, but teases all the same. I blamed the whiskey.

Small Talk and Bullshit

”Wanna come on over?“ I threw back another shot as the guy suddenly seemed a little bit hotter than before. I eyes him up and down, chewed on my bottom lip, and sighed softly as recognition lit up in my alcohol filled brain.

”Blake.” My crush. The hottest guy in school. I smiled at him, convinced I could do this. After all, alcohol was my strength. I grabbed his hand, stared into his baby blue eyes, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. He smiled and led me away. I blamed the alcohol for my actions.

Then it happened.

I fell in love. Okay, it was lust, but I never knew the difference. I told him that I loved him, wanted him and only him. He smiled and introduced me to all of his friends as his new girlfriend. I laughed and talked with the lot of them as if I’d known them forever, knowing that once I was sober, I’d never do this and would probably regret making a fool of myself. 

“Come on.” I pulled him away amidst the cat-calling and lewd suggestions. He followed me to the kegs, where I threw down two more cups of something with a bitter aftertaste. 

“Amarissa. You’re going to puke.”

”No. I’m going to make it through tonight.” He looked at me in confusion. “Alcohol makes me outgoing, accepted by folks around here.”

”What’re you talk in’ bout? You’re the most accepted gal round here, Doll.” He cupped my face in his large hands.  “You're outgoing, easy to get along with, the life of a party, a teacher’s pet, and a hard worker.” He leaned in and kissed me.

”If that’s what the world sees, they’re wrong. I’m insecure, stay in my own mind all the time, overthink everything, and hide my true self behind walls.” I blamed the bitter alcohol for my blabbering mouth.

”Well, I guess it’s time to show the world your true self then.” He smiled and pulled me further into the darkness. I blame the alcohol for making me follow.