It's not always Black and White

Vodka therapy is the best kind...

Bea's POV

I walked away from Josh's house, my heart heavy with a mix of emotions. Josh and his mum had apologised for his dad's behavior, but the sting of his insensitive comments still lingered. I needed a friend, someone who understood, so I called Jess and asked her to come over. As I opened the door to let her in, my eyes were already welling up with tears.

"Hey," Jess said softly, giving me a tight hug as soon as she stepped inside. "You okay?"

I shook my head, my voice cracking. "No, not really."

We moved to the living room and settled on the couch, both of us with ice cream and vodka in hand. It was like a makeshift therapy session, and I desperately needed it.

"So, spill it," Jess said, her voice a mix of concern and determination.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. "Josh's dad... he asked me if my real name was Bea, and then he asked if I didn't use my real name because it's a 'black thing.'"

Jess's eyes widened, and she let out a sigh. "Are you kidding me? What is wrong with people?"

I shrugged, my sadness turning into a bitter sort of humor. "You know, just the usual ignorance."

Jess handed me a tissue and patted my back. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with that. People can be so fucking clueless sometimes."

I wiped my tears and let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Tell me about it."

As we dug into our ice cream, I looked at Jess. "Do you ever get tired of dealing with this kind of crap?"

She paused, considering the question. "Honestly? Yeah, sometimes it gets exhausting. But we can't let other people's ignorance define us or our worth."

I nodded, grateful for Jess's wisdom. "You're right. It's just frustrating."

"Totally get that," she said, raising her ice cream spoon in solidarity.

We spent the evening swapping stories of our own encounters with ignorance, turning our pain into shared laughter. As the ice cream disappeared and the vodka flowed, it was like Jess and I were on a mission to drown out the negativity with humour.

"You know what?" Jess said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We should come up with a drinking game. Every time someone says something ignorant, we take a shot."

I laughed, the idea striking a chord with me. "That's actually not a bad idea. But we might end up unconscious by the end of the day."

She grinned. "Well, it's better than feeling angry all the time, right?"

I clinked my vodka glass against hers. "Cheers to that."

As the evening turned into nights, the weight of the hurtful comment from Josh's dad began to fade, replaced by the warmth of friendship and the realisation that I wasn't alone in this struggle.

"You know what else?" Jess said, her words slightly slurred. "We're strong. We deal with this crap, and we still rise above it."

I raised my glass again, a genuine smile on my face. "Damn right."

As the night grew deeper, Jess had a brilliant idea. "Hey, why don't we call Ryan over? He's always good for some laughs."

I nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "Yeah, you're right. He'll get my mind off things."

A short while later, Ryan joined us, and the trio of us crammed onto the couch, sharing stories and trading jokes.

"Man, can you believe some of the ridiculous things people say?" Ryan exclaimed, taking a swig from his drink.