At the thought of Momma, my rebellion broke loose and burst out, filling me with thoughts of evilness. I pulled a beer out of the box and turned it in my hands. How could one little brown bottle be a fount of wickedness? In that moment, I decided if it was wicked, I was going to drink it. It took me nearly a full minute to figure out how to get the metal cap off and once I did, I held it in front of me. This was it. The moment I embraced evil. I took a big swig, then coughed and gagged, spewing out liquid like the cherub fountain in Mildred’s backyard. Thank goodness I was standing in front of the sink.

So maybe a big gulp wasn’t such a good idea.

I placed the bottle to my lips and took a tiny sip, my tongue protesting. The cold beer slid down my throat and warmed my stomach. How was that possible? Maybe it was Devil’s Brew, especially since the only explanation I could come up with was magic.

Carrying the carton in one hand and my bottle of the Fount of Wickedness in the other, I went out the front door and plopped in one of the rarely used rocking chairs on the front porch. I briefly considered what the neighbors would think. Then I decided it didn't matter. I probably wouldn’t live here much longer anyway.

After several more tiny sips, I marveled at the magical warmness spreading through my gut. My arms and legs became tingly and I thought my head was gonna float right off my body. The cares of the world suddenly didn't seem so bad. As I got used to the taste of it, my sips got bigger and the next thing I knew, it was empty.

I felt happy and carefree. If one bottle of beer could do that, I could only imagine how wonderful I would feel with two.

With some effort, I twisted the top off the second bottle and took a big swig. I sat watching the leaves of the trees in the front yard blow in the breeze.

“Rose?” Joe asked, sounding stunned. “What are you doin’?”

I turned my head. He stood at the edge of the porch with my purse in his hand. I lifted the bottle up to show him. “I’m drinkin’ a beer.” I giggled then took another sip.

He climbed the steps and sat in the rocker next to me, setting my purse on the floor between us. “Yeah, I can see that. I thought you didn't drink.”

I giggled again. “I don’t, well, I didn’t. But that was the old me; this is the new me and the new me drinks beer.” I leaned over to him and whispered loudly. “And guess what? I like it.”

Joe chuckled. “So I see.” He looked down at the box, alarmed. “How many have you had?”

I waved the drink at him. “This is just my second but look how many there’s left!”

“Mind sharin’?”

I hated to lose one, but it seemed the neighborly thing to do. “Okay.”

Joe picked up a bottle. He twisted the cap off a whole lot easier than I did and took a big swig. “Bad day?” he asked.

For some reason I found his question funny and my laughter spilled out until I laughed so hard I was crying. Joe rocked in his chair, sipping his beer. He watched patiently, waiting for me to settle down.

“It sucked.” Then I started giggling again because Momma had considered sucked a bad word and tonight I was breaking all the rules. I settled down in a minute and took another drink. “Hey, what are you doin’ with my purse?” I asked, noticing it on the floor between us.

“I saw it outside the side of the house, thought I’d bring it to you before someone took off with it.”

“Huh,” I said, contemplating how it could have gotten there. I must have set it down when I unlocked the door earlier. Thinking of the door reminded me of the locks. “Oh!” I exclaimed in a mini-shout, fairly certain Joe actually jumped in his seat. “I plum forgot I owe you money.” I reached down for my purse, but had trouble grabbing hold of it. I thought that was funny and snickered.

“Rose, it can wait. You can just pay me later.”

I finally got a good grasp and pulled it up into my lap. “No, I insist.” I chuckled more because the s sound in the word insist sounded funny. I pulled the wallet out and shoved the bag off my lap. It landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Oops.”

I opened my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“I don't remember. Just pay me later.” He looked like he thought something was really funny.

“No, no, no.” I wondered why it sounded like my words were slurred. “I might forget.”

“Okay, pay me twenty dollars and you can cook me dinner sometime to make up the difference.”

I dug through my cash, carefully picking through the bills. I found a twenty, taking great care as I pulled it out. The Wal-Mart receipt fell out onto my lap. I reached over to hand Joe the money. He took it from me, his fingers brushing mine. I felt a strange tingling in my gut.

“Oh…,” I said, my eyes opening wide in surprise. I turned to Joe in fascination.

He looked confused at my reaction.

I thought about touching him again, but decided to take another drink of my beer instead.

“How long have you been out here?” he asked.

“I dunno…,” my voice trailed off. “Hmm….” I tried to think.

“When did you start drinkin’?”

“I dunno, not that long ago.” I finished off my bottle and reached down for another.

Joe grabbed my hand in his, stopping me while I lifted it out of the box. “Hold on there, Party Girl. When was the last time you ate somethin’?”

Our heads were bent close together, both of us reaching down. I turned slightly to look at him. “I dunno…,”