To Come Home

Chapter 9: Getting to Know You

The drive back to Bucky's apartment was complete silence, he was still soaking in these new layers of reality I'd unleashed upon him. On the bright side, now that he finally believes me, he's offered up his couch as lodging till I can figure out what it is exactly that I'm going to do. When we get back to the apartment, he grabs two brown glass bottles out of the food-cooler and plops himself onto the couch and opens the bottles with a small lighter. I sit beside him and he hands me one of the brown bottles, I grab it saying thank you and proceed to sniff it from the bottleneck – this makes him laugh.

"it's beer," he says with smile, I cocked my head slightly to the side, "alcohol?" he clarifies.

"ohh, yes, I know that!" I say triumphantly.

"do you ever drink?"

"no, never actually; if my father ever caught me I don't even know what he'd do, women aren't supposed to indulge like that, especially not High Society women..."

"what? That's insane. Sounds like a classic case of male oppression to me," he jokes and we laugh.

"you're definitely not wrong there," I assure him.

"well, you're not there now – here women can drink as much as they please, usually without judgement, are you going to choose to indulge?"

I take another sniff of the beer, it smells like an interesting mix of watery urine and fermented fruits, I just go for it and take a big swig.

"damn girl you're just going for it, I like that!" he says excitedly then takes a couple big swigs of his beer too, "so what do you think of it so far?"

"it's not terrible," I say with a smile, "tastes better than it smells,"

"haha well that's a good start then," he says with a laugh.

This was the first time in my life when I felt relatively without inhibition. I could never drink back in Phentyllia without the risk of being caught, everyone knew who I was, and lips were loose when it came to pleasing the king. Not even just that, but women of Higher Society in general weren't supposed to partake in such unladylike and unruly behavior, anything that would take away even an ounce of our control over our actions, which were always under constant scrutiny, was looked down upon – well at least when performed by women. Men on the other hand could do as they pleased, they didn't have to be as on guard with their words and actions as women did, if they spoke their minds it was always less likely to result in punishment, if they acted in unruly and disruptive ways, it was never seen as an issue, men were above us in every respect.

It felt good to finally let loose a bit, to do something I know I'm not supposed to without the constant looming fear of punishment and judgment; to not be living by the rules of a society that wouldn't let me relax, indulge or enjoy myself without shooting piercing glares of disdain my way. I don't get what the big deal is, alcohol isn't all that crazy. It makes me feel honest and giddy and dance-y and happy. It also makes me feel light-headed, but in a good way, and giggly and open. Beer is great!

"I love beer!" I exclaim happily, getting up to twirl a bit to the music ringing in my mind.

"do you have music on this world?" I ask.

He laughs, "yes of course we do," he pulls out his glowing box, the 'phone' and out from it come sounds, beautiful arrays of chords from string and wind instruments.

"it's jazz," he says to me, twirling me lightly.

"it's amazing!" I say enthusiastically then grab him and twirl him around. I end up tripping over a box, which sends him tumbling along with me to the floor, but thankfully his dispersed clothes on the floor make for a good cushion. We both laugh hysterically when we fall to the floor, laying on the ground side by side in a pile of boxes and clothes.