Incels

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Elaine is not a lush. Not really. She makes a gimlet every morning as a bracer to get herself to the office, but it's not like she truly needs one in order to function.

It's just a bracer. She doesn't like her new boss and dreads going to work these days; that's all. Her boss is fourteen years younger, and Elaine has hated younger women ever since Cole divorced her for a woman half her age.

Alcoholics don't drink cocktails, she tells herself. Everyone knows they drink their liquor straight, like in the movies.

Back in college she'd spend entire weekends snockered, believing the romantic poets would've done the same. But come Monday she wouldn't want another drink or another smoke for the rest of her life. Or until the next weekend, when she'd light up and hit the clubs again.

I never became addicted to anything.

But that was thirty years ago. Today is her birthday; her fiftieth.

Elaine can quit drinking any time she likes, but why should she? It helps her stay centered.

I'm probably serving my patients better by numbing the part of my brain that would normally obsess about Cole.

After all, therapists aren't allowed to have problems themselves.

In fact, it would probably help to have another drink. Yup, I need to think of my patients and have another gimlet. Skol.

Elaine checks the time. Nearly 8:15. In twenty minutes she'll have to leave for the office, but there's time for one more. Cole had always kept the bar well-stocked in case anyone from his firm showed up unexpectedly.

Looks like we don't have to worry about that any more.

No, she didn't have to worry about a lot of things any more. Like where Cole kept his socks, how much money was in the joint account, whether his sister might drop by without calling first. Now that the divorce is final and Cole has remarried, Elaine doesn't have to think about that son of a bitch ever again.

Just a small one. A shot, really.

She rises from the couch ─ her couch now, an expensive Gamma Arredamenti sectional she's never liked ─ and makes another gimlet with the last of the gin. Ordinarily she'd ask Cole to buy a new bottle the next time he went out.

Guess I get to do all the stocking from now on. Woohoo.

Yet another thing she'll have to add to the To Do list. She never realized how much she depended on Cole for small favors until she had to do them herself. Was he tallying equal favors from her now that she was out of his life? Or was he training his new trophy wife to carry out all the services Elaine previously provided?

"This can't be happening. No. I'll wake up any minute and we'll still be married. I'll tell him about my nightmare and he'll laugh that I paired him off with a co-worker half his age."

"What? You dreamed I married Izumi? Izumi Yoshida? Ha ha! I mean, come on, Elaine. She's babelicious and everything, but for fuck's sake, what could we possibly have in common? If I married anyone from work, it would be Julia in sales!"

Elaine trickles some lime juice over the gin, followed by a splash of soda. Lately her gimlets contain less lime and soda, but she tells herself that's because Cole hasn't restocked the bar. Not since he moved out and divorced her to marry a younger woman. His mistress. A co-worker he'd been having an affair with. Possibly for years.

Elaine accidentally drops the glass, and sweeps up the pieces with the dustpan from the kitchen closet. The shards sparkle, and two thoughts occur to her. The first is that the glass is like her marriage: shiny but broken. The second is that the largest fragment is big enough to slit her wrist.

How did it get to this point? If only I didn't have to work today. We shouldn't have to work on our birthdays.

But it is her birthday and she does have to work. There's still fifteen, sixteen minutes, though. Time enough for one more gimlet. One for the road.

Maybe she should get a new job, or go into private practice. She'd earn more that way. As a psychologist for the county, she only makes $70k.

At least with the county, I'm guaranteed to get clients. Who'd hire me in my own office at a higher rate? And I'd have to pay a fortune for advertising.

She'll have to think about it. But not right now. Right now she grabs the remote and turns on the TV to catch a little of the news before she leaves. There's just enough time for the news.

And maybe one more drink.

But she's not a lush. She's not like her mother. Her mother couldn't survive without a husband, and Elaine can. Elaine's been alone for two years now, and she's not going crazy. She's not thinking about quitting her job, or drinking herself to death like her mom did. She's not thinking her life's been a waste of time with the wrong man. She's not thinking she'd give anything to start over and do things differently this time around. She's not thinking she needs to make the next drink a double.

Elaine's not a lush. Not really. It just looks that way from the number of glasses that pile up in the sink every morning. Those are bracers ─ nothing more. She can quit any time she wants. Any time. She just doesn't see a reason to.

Not yet.

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