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Mae thought her habit of long walks through Towny Centry wouldn’t survive the cold weather, but after she skipped two days in a row she got so restless that she chewed off all her fingernails in an afternoon. So even when it’s cold and shitty out, she bundles up and goes for her walk.
Grandpa used to go for walks, she remembers, long walks around the perimeter of the town. She likes the idea of carrying on his tradition. It feels like an inheritance—like his books, like the stories of Adina Astra—something that’s just his and hers.
Just mine now, I guess.
Main Street isn’t as bustling in the winter as it is the rest of the year, but one person remains a constant in Mae’s daily routine: Selmers, in a seemingly endless rotation of hoodies and warm leggings. Sometimes, when it’s really cold, she’ll add a scarf and a hat, but she’s always out there on her porch.
“What are you up to this weekend?” Selmers asks today.
“Not much. Mom and Dad are taking me out for birthday tacos.”
“Oh hey, happy early birthday. The big two-oh?”
“Twenty-one, actually. On Saturday.”
“Nice. Party time!”
“Not really,” Mae sighs. “All my other friends are still underage, so.”
Selmers shrugs. “I’m 24. We can go out—just, like, to Miller’s. If you wanna.”
Mae’s ears heat up. “I, um. Yeah. That… sounds like fun, Selmers. Thanks.”
<Mae> whyyyyyy are you such a baby
<Gregg> i’m 6 weeks younger than u asshole
<Gregg> just wait 6 weeks and we can have a DOUBLE PARTY
<Mae> the only thing i like better than a party is a DOUBLE PARTY
<Mae> so yes to that
<Gregg> rad \m/
<Mae> but uh technically i’m not waiting?
<Mae> sry but selmers is taking me out
<Gregg> aw don’t be sorry dude
<Gregg> that sounds like fun!!!
<Gregg> wait
<Gregg> when you saying "taking you out" ...
<Mae> GOTTA GO GREGG BYE
“It says her birthday’s tomorrow.” The bartender at Miller’s is a very, very tall woman with broad shoulders. The sleeves of her faded flannel shirt are rolled up her muscular forearms, revealing colourful tattoos. Mae tries not to stare as she scrutinizes Mae’s I.D.
“Her birthday’s tonight! In like two and a half hours,” Selmers says. “Look at her, she’s not going to cause any trouble.”
The bartender narrows her eyes. Mae tries to look as innocent as possible. She actually showered today, which is bound to help, and since her mom snuck her clothes into the laundry while she was showering, she’s wearing her second-favourite outfit—a Witchdagger 2013 tour t-shirt and an almost identical, but much less broken in, pair of jeans.
Finally the bartender hands back Mae’s card. “The kid can stay,” she says, “but I ain’t servin’ her ’til midnight.”
Selmers shrugs. “Fair enough.” They each get a soda, put in an order for a plate of nachos, and retreat from the bar to find a table.
Mae can’t help but look around at every inch of this place. She’s walked past Miller’s her entire life, but she’s never been inside. It’s kind of what she expected, honestly: dingy old jukebox, scuffed-up pool tables, yellowed advertisements from the 1970s peeling off the walls.
It’s so cool.
Talking to Selmers in the bar is just as easy as talking to her on the front porch. She and Mae have always been friendly, but they’ve never really hung out before, and it turns out that’s great—they don’t know each other’s jokes or stories yet, so there’s always something to talk about.
Midnight comes around before Mae knows it. “What do you want for your first legal drink?” Selmers asks.
Mae thinks for a minute. She hasn’t had any alcohol since that disastrous party in the woods last fall. “Anything but beer,” she says. “Surprise me. I trust you.”
Selmers gets a cute little smile on her face and walks over to the bar. Has she always had dimples? Mae wonders.
She comes back with her hands full: two shots in one, and a pair of highball glasses in the other.
“Okay,” she says. “This is called a Bottle Cap. You drop the little glass into the big one and drink ’em both together. It tastes like candy.”
“Ooooh,” says Mae. “That sounds a lot better than beer.”
Selmers laughs, and her dimples make another appearance. Mae feels warm all over. “It tastes, like, a million times better than beer. Here, I’ll show you.” She drops one of the shots into one of the glasses. The dark brown liquid in the smaller glass mixes with the light green in the larger glass. The result isn’t especially attractive, but Selmers looks pleased when she takes a sip.
“Your turn.”
“So simple, even I can’t screw it up,” Mae mutters, and drops her shot into her glass.
It’s delicious. It takes exactly like candy. It definitely doesn’t taste like booze, and Mae has a vision—the normal, imaginary kind of vision, not one beamed into her head by an inscrutable cosmic presence—of chugging down like six of these, and throwing up all over Selmers. She shudders.
Selmers touches her arm. “You okay there? I guess it is your first drink…”
“It’s great,” Mae says. “This was perfect. Thanks, Selmers.”
Mae is extra, extra careful to pace herself. She nurses her first Bottle Cap for a while, then drinks two big glasses of water before she lets Selmers order her another one. Mae has never been accused of learning from her mistakes, but she will not—she will NOT—embarrass herself in front of Selmers tonight.
At least, not by over-drinking.
“So,” says Selmers, drawing circles in the moisture on the table. “Are you and Bea Santello, like… dating?”
Mae should change the subject. Or laugh. She should definitely say no.
She absolutely shouldn’t sigh and let her head sink nearly to the table, but that’s what she does.
“Oh jeez,” says Selmers. “It’s like that, huh.”
Mae can’t meet her eyes. “She’s… the straightest girl ever, basically,” she says to the wood grain.
Selmers grunts sympathetically. “Been there.” Mae takes a big gulp of her drink.
“Are you, uh. Dating? Anybody?” Mae asks, much too loudly. Selmers shakes her head.
“Nah. I’m damaged goods.”
“Selmers…”
“What? It’s true. Recovering addict, criminal record, unemployed, divorced. I’m not exactly a hot commodity.”
Mae furrows her brow. She drinks the last candy-flavoured mouthful of her drink.
“No,” she says. Selmers looks confused. “No,” Mae says again, “you’re not damaged goods. You’re… you’re funny, and you’re always so nice to me, and you’re an amazing poet, Selmers, and I like seeing you every day, and you’re—” She pauses to stifle a burp. “—you’re really cute,” she mumbles in conclusion, eyes back down.
Selmers doesn’t say anything for two or three excruciating seconds. Then her hand slowly comes into Mae’s view as it reaches across the table.
“Hey,” she says. “Mae, look at me.”
Mae lifts her head. Selmers giggles. “Now open your eyes, silly.” Mae opens one eye at a time, cringing like Selmers is about to slap her. But the look on Selmers’s face isn’t one of impending violence, it’s—it’s—she’s smiling?
“That’s super sweet,” says Selmers, her voice unexpectedly quiet. “Like, seriously.” She finishes her own drink and winks at Mae. “And I think you’re pretty cute too.”
Mae’s heart starts beating again almost immediately. No big deal.
It’s not karaoke night at Miller’s, but Mae doesn’t mind. They won’t have anything cool like Witchdagger or The Traumaholics or Firestorm: Global, and she’s not much of a singer anyway.
But when Selmers gets up to use the washroom, she fishes her notebook out of her pocket and scribbles a quick thought: It would be cool to hear Selmers sing. She doodles a little microphone, and a little stick-figure Selmers singing into it. Before she realizes what she’s done, there are little hearts encircling the drawing, too. She frantically turns them into musical notes.
“Do you have a curfew?” Selmers asks when she gets back.
“Nope! I can party alllll night. Or until I fall asleep. Whichever comes first.”
Selmers giggles again. It’s different from her usual chuckle—higher, louder, less self-conscious. Mae figures she must be feeling a little buzzed too.
After another big glass of water, Selmers lifts her eyebrows. “One more?”
Mae considers. She’s feeling a little wobbly from the first two, but it’s her 21st birthday, for crap’s sake—at the very least she can get medium wobbly.
For her final drink of the night, Selmers orders Mae a layered shot that’s almost too pretty to drink—when Mae tosses it back, it tastes like a tropical fruit salad. It goes to her head quickly.
“I bet I could have one more,” she slurs, even as she’s putting on her jacket to leave. “I feel fiiine.”
Selmers pats her on the arm. Mae leans into the touch. “I think you’re good,” Selmers says, and as they walk out of Miller’s, her arm ends up around Mae’s shoulders.
Be cool, Mae. Be cool.
Selmers gives her a little squeeze. “Are you not feeling cool? Do you wanna stop and sit down?”
Mae realizes she said that out loud.
“You said that out loud too,” Selmers says, and Mae can hear the smile in her voice, but she’s still mortified.
Her head clears a little as they walk through the frosty night air, but her heart is pounding like crazy at her proximity to Selmers, and the butterflies in her stomach feel like they’re going to fly away and take Mae with them.
If Mae’s being honest with herself—and she’s too tipsy not to be—she’s had at least half a crush on Selmers for years. The cool, cute older girl down the block who never treated Mae like the neighborhood fuck-up? Who grew up to be a cool, cute poet? Who still has her arm around Mae’s shoulders?
When Selmers doesn’t slow down as they approach her place in Underhill, Mae does—she doesn’t want the night to end, but she doesn’t want Selmers to miss her door, either.
“Um, Selmers, that’s your house right there.”
“I know. I, uh… wanna walk you home. If that’s okay.”
Mae’s not sure she’s ever heard Selmers sound so… vulnerable. “That’s super okay,” Mae says, snuggling into Selmers’s side a little.
Way, way too soon, they’re at the Borowskis’ front door.
“Thank you so much for tonight,” says Mae. “I feel extremely 21 right now.”
Selmers laughs. “I had a lot of fun. We should do this again. Happy birthday, Mae.”
Mae doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to say goodbye yet. She looks at Selmers’s mouth just in time to see her lick her lips.
“Hey,” says Selmers, “um, I almost forgot. I wrote you a poem. For your birthday.”
“Ohmygod,” Mae says. “Please can I hear it.”
Selmers doesn’t usually hesitate before launching into her poems, but she takes her time starting this one.
This poem is a birthday gift for Mae
I see her almost each and every day
If I didn’t, I would miss her
When I do, I want to kiss her
I hope she knows she makes me feel a way
Selmers finishes and kind of freezes in place, waiting nervously for Mae’s reaction. Mae just blinks for a few seconds.
“C-can I hear it again?” she asks softly.
Selmers recites the poem again, voice trembling a little this time. Mae bites her lower lip.
“I liked it,” she says, almost whispering. “I really liked it.”
“Yeah?” Selmers asks tentatively.
“Yeah,” Mae nods, suddenly serious. “But… I’m a terrible kisser.”
“Bet you’re not,” Selmers says. “Bet you just need a little practice. Here.” She lifts Mae’s chin gently and leans down for a brief but lingering kiss on the lips.
When they part, Mae is nearly breathless. Selmers grins at her. “See? That wasn’t bad at all.”
Mae touches her own lips, slightly dazed. “Whoa,” she says. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” says Selmers, grinning. “So, um. If you ever want more practice…?” Mae nods rapidly and Selmers laughs. “Then you should, uh, come over some time. My parents are really good about giving me my own space, so, you know… there’s privacy.”
Mae’s ears are so hot, she thinks they might spontaneously combust. “Okay,” she squeaks. “Yeah. I—would love that.”
Selmers’s eyes crinkle. “Me too. Okay. Time to say good night, birthday lady.”
Mae throws her arms around Selmers in a big drunk hug. “Good night, Selmers. Thanks again.”
<Mae> dude
<Mae> are u awake
<Gregg> hey party girllllll
<Gregg> how does legal alcohol taste
<Mae> like candy actually
<Gregg> wut
<Mae> i had candy cocktails
<Mae> doesnt matter
<Mae> DUDE
<Gregg> ?????
<Mae> I KISSED SELMERS
<Gregg> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
<Mae> or like she kissed me? idk
<Mae> we kissed
<Mae> one kiss
<Mae> but
<Mae> she said we could do it again
<Mae> whenever
<Gregg> holy crap dude
<Gregg> you’ve been 21 for like 2 hours
<Gregg> and you already smooched a lady
<Gregg> l e g e n d a r y
<Mae> asdlkjfhaskjhlfsadkjhfk