We Met Like This

by Kasie West

Oliver was drunk. Even though he kept insisting he wasn’t. “I’m not drunk,” he said again. “I’m just expressing valid thoughts.” “Very valid,” I said, taking hold of his hand because he kept slowing down to peer in store windows. We were heading to Boots and Spurs, the last stop of the night. “I want to hear all your thoughts. It’s nice that you want to take care of me.” That was the last thing he’d said. “But I know you don’t need to be taken care of. You can take care of yourself. I’m a feminist, you know.” I held back a laugh. “Yes, you keep telling me that.” “Because I am. My mom did the same exact job as my dad, probably did it better, in fact, and made less money. It was maddening to see.” I squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re still a golden retriever even when you’re drunk.” “I’m not drunk.” “Where is your dad now, by the way?” “No idea. It was an ugly divorce. Hard for all of us to live through.” “I’m sorry,” I said, pulling his hand in front of me and running my other one up his arm. “It had been bad for a long time before that. Lots of pain, lots of tears.” He paused. “Probably another reason I’m still single.” “Are you? Still single?” I teased. “Good to know. I might know someone who is interested.” “Oh,” he said, as if the reality of his relationship status just dawned on him. “Do I have to officially ask you to be my boyfriend? Would you like me to ask in note form with multiple-choice answers you can circle?” He squeezed my hand. “I’m supposed to ask.” “I tho...