Joy Argento - Carrie and Hope Read Free Page A

surrounding a mirror sporting the name Budweiser in the familiar logo, sat on the back wall behind the long bar. The place was empty except for two older men playing pool at the table in the corner and two younger men sitting at the bar drinking. A barstool separated them. Soft music drifted through the air, cut occasionally by the sound of pool balls hitting together.
      Carrie led the way to the stools at the far side of the bar, away from the two young men. “How’s this?” she asked Hope.
      “This works,” Hope answered. She set her small purse on the bar as she slid her body easily onto the tall barstool.
      Carrie sat on the stool next to the wall, swiveled it towards Hope and said, “I hope you don’t mind that I suggested a drink instead of coffee.”
      “No, not at all. I was just glad to get out of there. Although I did feel a little like a teenager skipping out of class.” Hope smiled, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth.
      Carrie laughed. “I know what you mean. I felt a little weird leaving like that, too. But going there was a bad idea.”
      The tall bartender appeared in front of the two women. His long bleached blond hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. His quick smile revealed a wide gap between his front teeth. He wiped his hands on a small towel tucked into his waistband and asked, “What can I get for you ladies?”
      Hope looked at Carrie and said, “You wanted a gin and tonic, right?”
      Carrie smiled and nodded, surprised that Hope remembered the drink she had mentioned earlier.
      Hope turned back to the bartender. “One gin and tonic and I’ll have a umm…I’ll have a screwdriver, please.” Hope looked momentarily flustered before she added in a low voice. “Hold the vodka.”
      The bartender smiled and leaned closer to her. “One gin and tonic and one virgin screwdriver, coming right up,” he said in an equally low voice.
      Hope tilted her head slightly and looked over at Carrie, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t really drink,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against it. I just never developed a taste for alcohol.”
      “I am so sorry. We should have gone for coffee like you suggested,” Carrie said.
      “No, no. You get your drink and I am perfectly happy with orange juice. Not a problem at all.” She opened her purse, took out a bill and set it in front of her. “So,” she said turning once again to Carrie. “If you don’t mind my asking, how come you think going to that meeting was a bad idea? I don’t mean to be so blunt, but who was it that died?”
    “Hmm, well, I guess that’s the problem. No one died. Yet,” Carrie struggled to explain.
    “I’m not sure I understand. Doesn’t one usually go to a grief support group because someone died?” Hope’s words were soft and kind.
    “My grandmother is actually still alive, but she has been in a coma for almost three months. A vegetative state, the doctors call it.   I go and visit her a lot and talk to her, but she can’t talk back. I’m not even sure if she can hear what I am saying to her. I just miss her so much that I thought it might be a good idea to go to a grief support group.”
    Carrie thought for a moment that Hope was going to touch her shoulder, but placed her hand on the bar instead.   Her eyes never left Carrie as she asked, “So why did you decide that it wasn’t a good idea after all? Why did you want to leave?”
    “Because I felt like I was writing my grandmother off as dead already. I felt like I was being disloyal to her. Does that make any sense?”
    “It makes perfect sense,” Hope said to Carrie. The bartender set the drinks down in front of the woman and picked up the money in front of Hope. “Keep the change,” she told him.
    Carrie lifted the drink to her lips and took a long swig. The liquid felt cool in her throat as it went down, but warmed when it hit her belly.  
    “So, I assume you’re close to your