Jillian

she opened a can and finished half of it in the kitchen, standing by the door.
•   •   •
Jillian picked up Adam and drove home and, while they were eating dinner, asked him if he wanted to have a doggie. He looked at her earnestly and said, “Yes, I want to have a doggie.”
•   •   •
Randy hadn’t asked Carrie to help him with his project after all, even though it was something he really thought would be fun. While Megan was standing by the door, ravaging her can of beer, Randy received a text message.
“Oh. Do you want to go to Will’s house?” asked Randy.
Megan took off her shoes. “Yeah, sure.”
He came to hug her.
“Hold on, let me get my stuff off first.”
She took off all her crap, handed him a beer, put the rest of the beers in the refrigerator, gave him a side hug and a kiss on the cheek, then walked to the living room and sat on the couch.
“Ah,” she said. He sat in the chair by the couch. “How was your day, honey?” she asked.
“It was good,” he said. “We got a new client who wants us to make a website for his barbershop.”
“Cool.” Megan nodded, maybe a second too long.
•   •   •
Jillian thought she should really clean up before the dog got here, but she needed to lie down first.
•   •   •
Megan emptied the rest of the beers into her purse and they walked over to Will’s. “I feel like I’ve been waiting to get wasted all week,” she announced.
“Hmm. The weather is nice,” said Randy.
“Um, is it usually nice this time of year? I can’t remember.”
“Well, I think it’s usually nice like this some days, and then not so nice other days,” said Randy.
“Yeah, right.”
Mercifully, there were people at Will’s when they got there. Megan felt a little anxious, but she had a plan. She sat on the couch next to an ashtray and got a beer and a cigarette out of her bag. The beer distracted her from the inevitable Friday question, which was, “Hmm, what am I going to do for the next sixty-two hours now that it’s the weekend?” Four beers calmed that pretty quickly, and the cigarettes helped her drink faster and more. If she started to get the spins, she could switch to cigarettes exclusively.
She knew all of her habits were painfully interesting.
It would be difficult to talk to anyone but Randy until the fourth beer, but if it had to happen, she could always smoke a cigarette and drink a little bit faster.
“I don’t give a fuck, I don’t give a fuck,” was one of Megan’s mantras. She finished her first party beer and started the second. She looked around at all the people in the living room. She didn’t see Will. She kind of liked Will. She thought, “I don’t give a fuck,” while moving her head and shoulders back and forth a little.
She hadn’t meant to move, but quickly reminded herself that she didn’t give a fuck either way.
“What are you laughing at?” asked a guy who hit on her sometimes, for some reason.
“Myself, because I am an idiot.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey, can I have a cigarette?” he asked.
“Of course, why not, right?” she said.
“So, what’s up?”
“Uh, nothing really at all.”
“Oh, yeah? I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, I work at a gastroenterologists’ office as a medical records technician, which means I look at saltine-sized photos of diseased anuses and colons all day. And I don’t really have that much free time, but the free time I do have I spend trying to get drunk enough to forget my miseries,” said Megan, holding her beer can up to the guy for a cheers.
He looked at her sideways, then gave her the cheers.
“Well, at least it’s a funny job. Is it interesting? Are you into computers?” He was a smooth young man.
“No, I’m not really that into computers. And, also, our computers are always broken, so if I were into them, this job would be even more frustrating.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, how did you get the job? Are you interested in medicine?”
“Oh, god no, not at all. I’m kind of a hypochondriac. If I see a malady, I absorb it. So I don’t think I’d ever want to,” she searched for the words, “advance in this field.”
“Oh, okay.”
Megan shifted. “I got this job through my primary doctor. I came in to see him about migraines and minor panic attacks, and he told me that occupation was good medicine and that the doctor down the hall was hiring. I hadn’t had a job in ten months and I was living off my parents. It was making me cry every day.”
“Oh.”
Megan opened her third beer and flipped open the top of her box of cigarettes. She rolled the cigarette around between her fingers before lighting it. She thought it might be soothing. A girl walked up to them and punched Megan’s new boyfriend in the arm.
“Hey, James, what’s up, man?” said the girl.
She seemed like a happy young person. They ought to just, you know, go to the other side of the living room together, this girl and James.
“Oh, I got you one of those roadkill pelts I was telling you about,” said the new girl. “They’re actually a lot more beautiful and a lot less gross than I thought they’d be.”
Oh my god, everyone in this world is just way too interested in things, thought Megan.
“Hey, do you want to sit here?” Megan asked.
“You don’t mind?”
The girl asked this as if Megan had just done her a great kindness.
“Oh, um, no. Not at all. Just let me get my bag,” said Megan.
“Hey, Megan, do you know Sarah?” asked James.
“No, I don’t think we’ve met,” said Megan, holding out her hand.
Sarah shook it.
“I’ve seen you a lot, though,” said Sarah.
“Yeah, well, that’s natural,” said Megan. “Bye, guys.”
A tiny-feeling hand pinched Megan’s elbow.
It was Amanda!
“Hey, Megan,” said Amanda.
“Hey, you want to go outside with me?” Megan asked. “I was just going to smoke.”
“Oh, I think you can smoke