Lyla sits at the bar. She twirls a glass with ice in front of her. She is alone. The bartender glances up at her, as she motions for a refill. "Same?" he asks.
She nods. She watches as he pours a Stoli on the rocks for her. This is a Vanderbilt habit. Vanderbilt girls like to drink. It makes flirting with fraternity guys easier. It makes forgetting easier - forgetting about old boyfriends, football players who break your heart when they go off to college and stop calling. It makes pretending that you're over him easier. Lyla understands why Tim drank so much in high school. It makes everything hurt less.
She takes a sip of her second refill. She hears her name being called. She ignores it.
"Lyla Garrity, hello? Earth to Lyla Garrity," Tyra Collette pokes her.
"Tyra, hi," Lyla turns around. Her smile is wan.
"Well, that's not quite the welcome I'd expect from someone I haven't seen in - in - well, how long's it been anyway?" Tyra grins and gives her a hug.
A frenemy hug, Lyla notes. "Last summer, I guess," she says, trying to lighten her tone. "When did you get home?"
"Two days ago. Man, am I done. Done. Tyra Collette, college graduate, thank you very much!"
"Congratulations," Lyla smiles. She gestures to the barstool next to her, "Please."
"Sure, for a few minutes anyway," Tyra hops up onto the stool. "I'm meeting Julie here - she and Matt are in town for a few days to see his grandma."
"That's nice," Lyla says. "Julie and Matt - where . . . are they now?"
"Chicago," Tyra says, tapping her fingernails against the top of the bar. "Julie's finishing up school; Matt's working for some art designer. Or something like that," she cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes. "So what's up with you? Why are you sitting here, drinking -" she pauses, trying to make out exactly what is in Lyla's almost-empty glass.
"Stoli," Lyla offers shortly, raising her glass to Tyra.
"Stoli - alone? Where's Mr. Garrity? Haven't seen his butt around the house helping with the babies at all, by the way. Not cool, Lyla, not cool."
"I don't know," Lyla stares back down at her glass.
"Stoli for me too, please, rocks is fine," Tyra looks at the bartender as he approaches them. "So, where is he?" Tyra turns back to Lyla. "I should have known he'd be sitting here in a bar rather than volunteering to babysit."
"If you're looking for Tim, he's not here, Tyra; I don't know where he is," Lyla shrugs.
Tyra pauses and wrinkles her nose. "Um, so what exactly are you - what - who are here with? Thanks," she nods at the bartender as he deposits a Stoli on the rocks in front of her.
"Me, myself, and I," Lyla smirks and raises her glass, downing the rest of the vodka. She motions for another refill.
"Okay," Tyra says slowly. "So," she smiles brightly, "congratulations are in order for you, too, right?"
Lyla smiles and nods. "Right, graduated. Done. Crazy, huh?"
"Four long years," Tyra agrees, sighing. "Can't believe it's over."
"Me neither," Lyla says.
"So are you home for good or what?" Tyra asks, checking behind her for Julie before sipping her vodka.
"Or what," Lyla responds. "Heading to Austin, actually. I'm - um - working for the governor's chief of staff. I'm going to be a legislative assistant. Or something like that," she laughs.
"Wow," Tyra raises an eyebrow in exaggerated surprise. "I'm impressed, Garrity. Well, Austin's pretty cool. I can give y'all some neighborhood tips, if you like. Some place close to a bar, for Tim's sake. What's he going to be doing there, anyway? I mean I can't believe he's leaving Dillon."
"He's not," Lyla twirls her glass on the bar, watching as the condensation from the ice forms a circle at the bottom of the glass. "I'm going alone."
"Well, after he graduates, I mean," Tyra narrows her eyes. "Obviously."
"I know what you mean," Lyla nods stiffly. Obviously, I know what you mean. I'm the reason he's going to graduate at all. And for Tim Riggins, graduating in five years (well, four-and-a-half years, because, as Tim always points out, he missed half-a-year fucking around and running a chop shop) is a fucking miracle. "He's not going with me," she continues. "I'm going alone."
"Okay, Garrity," Tyra says slowly. "I'm sensing an elephant in the room here. What's going on with you and Tim?"
"We broke up," Lyla responds. She doesn't look up from her glass. Beads of water run down the sides. She feels the wetness on her fingertips.
"No," Tyra shakes her head. "Nope. That's not possible. Y'all are, like, the annoying golden couple that everyone hates. The big college football player and his sorority girlfriend," she rolls her eyes.
Lyla smirks. "Seriously? Because, you know, I'm not in a sorority. Never have been."
"Well, you're a former cheerleader, so you know, it's the same thing," Tyra shrugs. "It doesn't get any lamer than a football player dating a cheerleader," she snorts. "And you dated two of them. Back to back. Who were best friends. You could start your own sorority, the way I see it," she flashes Lyla a fake smile.
Lyla doesn't respond.
"Anyway, whatever," Tyra continues, "y'all cannot possibly be broken up. I would've heard about it."
"Really?" Lyla looks amused. Momentarily. "Because I'm pretty sure we are. I was there."
Tyra puts down her glass and stares at her. "For real?"
"For real," Lyla nods.
"When?"
"Two days ago," Lyla responds slowly.
"What happened?" Tyra asks. "I mean, none of my business, I guess, but - what happened?"
Lyla laughs shortly. "Life."
"I can't believe Mindy didn't say anything. I mean, I was just there. Seriously, I just left Mindy and Billy's place. Are they sworn to secrecy or something?"
Lyla shrugs, taking another swig of her vodka.
Tyra watches her. "Just how many of those are you planning to have?"
"Not sure yet," Lyla responds.
"Look, Lyla - we haven't always been the closest of friends, but -"
"Haven't we?" Lyla raises her eyebrows and glances over at Tyra. "I mean, we have so much in common." She pauses. "We're both in love with Tim, right?"
Tyra's eyes widen. She looks away. "I don't even - I don't know how to respond to that," she says. "No, I'm not, I'm - do you think that - do you think that I've been pining away for him all these years?" she glares at Lyla.
Lyla sighs. "I don't know, Tyra. Look, sorry. Forget I said anything. I'm just a silly former cheerleader. I should - I should go." She gestures for her check.
Tyra is immobile, watching her. Lyla finishes her drink, and pulls two twenty-dollar bills out of her wallet, throwing them down on the table. "This should cover both of our tabs," she looks at Tyra. "I'm sorry." She isn't really all that sorry.
"Lyla, I don't want your boyfriend," Tyra snaps. "And buying me a drink doesn't make you any less of a bitch for throwing my past with him in my face."
"Ex-boyfriend. And if I'm wrong, why are you so upset?" Lyla leans toward Tyra, within an inch of her face, as she slides off of her barstool.
"Because Tim and I are friends. We're family now, actually," Tyra is hostile. "And you're - well, you're -"
"The one he loves," Lyla finishes for her without any of the glee she might once have taken in putting Tyra in her place. "I'm sorry. Take care, Tyra. Say hi to Julie for me."