Chapter 2: A night to remember

Cristina stalked to the kitchen again before that tender crap could get a hold of her. She banged around there for a little bit, not sure what she was looking for, but just banging the kitchen cabinets felt nice. Not too loud, of course, because she didn't want to wake Zola. But just enough to make her feel less tired and a bit calmer. In the back of one of the upper cabinets she discovered an unopened bag of chocolate chip cookies and she took that back to the living room. Meanwhile Meredith had done away with her glass altogether and was drinking straight from the bottle. She had also settled down on the carpet in front of the couch, as if she could no longer bother keeping up the pretence that she wasn't drunk.

'Remember when we used to do this all the time? When I wasn't pregnant, George was alive, Izzie was not crazy or dying and Alex was still marginally likeable,' Cristina said as she sat down next to Meredith on the carpet and she was surprised at her own words. She hadn't even realised she had been having visions of that. Disconcerted, she tore open the bag and popped a cookie into her mouth.

'Hey, that's not fair. I forgive Alex,' was Meredith's delayed response and she was exhibiting some really bad actress behaviour. There were several stages to Meredith's drunkenness and Cristina knew them all. The problem was that they never really surfaced in the same order. There was kindness and sluttiness and weepiness and the bit of theatrical anger Meredith had just displayed.

'Now I know you're drunk,' Cristina said. She took a bite of another cookie, afraid she might gnash her teeth. Alex was absolved; and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Ha! Cristina's face turned red and she almost choked on her second cookie. It was just so typical of Alex to screw one of his friends and thereby himself and so typical of Meredith to forgive him. If it was up to Cristina there would be a long period of righteous anger, but unfortunately Meredith was much kinder. Or it was just the kindness stage of her drunkenness.

'No, I mean it. If I hadn't been all clumsy about it then he wouldn't even have known. Plus, he was drunk and upset about Lucy being a bitch. I forgive him. I'm nice that way.'

'You are,' Cristina admitted. Much nicer than Cristina. She wasn't even sure nice was a good word, because it implied Cristina was nice to begin with. Meredith turned towards her. By now she had consumed more alcohol than April, but the only noticeable difference up until now was that she required a slightly longer response time to anything Cristina said.

'And you like me,' Meredith stated. It was strange, because it was a statement, but also a question.

'I do,' Cristina sincerely answered. Meredith was after all the best friend she never thought she'd have. The kind of fantasy friendship that you see in movies, where women call their friends in the middle of the night and the called don't hang up immediately.

'But not because I'm nice,' Meredith queried as she took a swig from the bottle. It was really a swig, Cristina observed, not a demure sip or a bold gulp. There was a lot of hand-arm-head-motion going on that made it a swig. It also made Meredith spill a little.

'No. I can't just like people because they're nice.'

True, so true. Cristina could never understand how people could be friends with people just because they're nice. What kind of criteria was that for a friendship? Hell, Cristina could even be nice. To be fair, semantically speaking, she could act nice, she would never be nice, but still. In her life Cristina had met a lot more nice people than her cynical world views really allowed, but they were often so boring. They were either the most tedious people on the planet – the kind of people where if you sat next to them on the plane and when they start talking you'd hope the plane would crash – or very sanctimonious about it. Oh look at me giving money to this hobo even though I know he is going to spend it on booze. You are all bastards for ignoring him, but my comfort is that I will go to heaven and you will all rot in hell. You too, hobo. Cristina didn't know which was worse, but luckily Meredith was neither and if Cristina called her in the middle of the night she knew Meredith would listen to whatever she had to say.

'I miss George. He was nice,' Meredith whispered. She was now moving into the weepy stage. Cristina liked the weepy stage the least.

'He was. He was really nice. You know who I liked too? Izzie,' Cristina said, because the cookies made her think of Izzie's superior cookies. Talking about George always made Cristina tired, so it was to be avoided at all costs. Meredith regarded her wearily.

'You did? I never thought you really did,' she asked and she cocked her head to the side a little. It was a cute pose, Cristina thought, definitely the result of her progressing drunkenness, but cute nonetheless.

'Well, kind of. I liked her baking,' Cristina amended. Izzie's baking had been phenomenal, but it usually took a crisis for her to whip up a fair amount of muffins and then you also had to contend with Izzie lying crying on the bathroom floor. Cristina wasn't sure it was worth it. Yes, the muffins and cookies and pies were awesome and there were other bathrooms... Mean, so mean.

'Maybe Derek is right, maybe I am a bad mother. Look at me, this is the first night Zola is with me and I'm getting drunk,' Meredith whined. Ah, Cristina had forgotten about the self-pity stage, also not a stage she enjoyed. And the delightful topic changes out of left field; marvellous.

'You're not a bad mother. The baby monitor is right here and I'm sober. If anything is wrong I can take care of it,' Cristina objected and she slid the baby monitor closer and turned up the sound. Through the crackle they could hear Zola breath slowly and regularly. Meredith stared at the monitor in wonder.

'She just fell asleep. I don't get that. She doesn't even really know me and she is in a strange house in a strange bed and she just falls asleep.'

'Babies are... I don't know what I was going to say. I know nothing about babies. They are resilient? They adapt easily?' Cristina asked, but assured by the steady sound of Zola's breathing Meredith had already moved on to another topic. One that was only tangentially related to the previous one.

'It's so good that I'm not trying to get pregnant. Now I can drink as much as I want. And Derek isn't even here to be all judgy,' Meredith said and she toasted Cristina's glass of water. There was a bit of anger in there that Cristina liked, but she knew Meredith well enough to know that when she took the bottle to her mouth again it was to cover up the sadness. Meredith did this thing with her mouth when she was sad and hurt, like the lips wrinkled or something. Cristina couldn't describe it, but she could recognise it and she knew what it meant. This is where her fake drunkenness came in handy, because she was allowed to randomly change the topic too.

'Remember when Callie asked us whether people ever thought we were a couple?' Cristina asked. Even in her inebriated state Meredith frowned, but Cristina didn't react. They both knew she was only drinking water, but the pretending was helping. She felt woozy and a little lightheaded, both in a good way, and drowsy.

'And I said no, because we screw boys like whores on tequila? Yes, I remember,' Meredith answered and for good measure she took another sip. The bottle was almost half empty. Cristina decided that when the volume reached a critical bar halfway the label she was going to confiscate it. Meredith already had two glasses of margarita and she was so little and thin. On the other hand, she had now gotten to the point where every time she raised the bottle she spilled more than she actually drank.

'That was funny.'

'You know, I always thought that if I were a lesbian I'd want to have sex with you,' Meredith mumbled, which was technically not a real change of topic, but it still caught Cristina by surprise. Thankful that she did not have a cookie in her throat to choke on, Cristina answered as casually as possible.

'Of course you would. I would probably have sex with Hahn.'

'Hahn! Why Hahn?' Meredith laughed and Cristina laughed too.

'Because the hate sex would be awesome. Or it could be Teddy, because she hates me too. Maybe more than Hahn because I've got Owen,' Cristina said and saying the name out loud felt like a punch in the gut. She paused to recover, before she adjusted that she had had Owen. Meredith looked at her with concern and she was the only one allowed to look at Cristina like that. She was also the only one who could look at her like that without Cristina feeling awkward or ashamed or angry.

'It has to be a cardiothoracic surgeon, doesn't it?' Meredith softly asked. Sometimes Meredith was able to stun Cristina with one of her clearheaded moments in the midst of complete and utter drunkenness. Cristina was touched by the subtle return to the subject.

'Oh, I'd do you too. You'd be the Brittany to my Santana,' she said and Meredith burst out laughing. Cristina couldn't remember ever saying she'd do someone, it was a very male thing to say she thought, but it felt appropriate.

'You watch too much Glee,' Meredith choked out between coughs and Cristina took the bottle from her and screwed the top back on.

'You can never watch too much Glee. It's hilariously ridiculous,' she objected. Or was it ridiculously hilarious? Cristina's drowsiness was turning into a full-blown desire for sleep.

'I want to be Santana,' Meredith pouted.

'Everyone wants to be Santana, but you're blonde and dumb, so you'd be Brittany and...'

'Hey!' Meredith weakly protested. It was weak, because she was still laughing, so she probably wasn't too insulted.

'...I am bitchy and hot and awesome. You see, I have no choice: I have to be Santana,' Cristina concluded and she put the bag of cookies on the table. Her hand had been crunching the content of the bag without her even knowing it. She leaned back against the couch.

'It wouldn't work anyway. I could never call you darling. It would be ridiculous,' Cristina concluded and she closed her eyes. Meredith leaned her head against Cristina's shoulder. It felt nice and familiar and not annoying or creepy, like when people do that on the subway.

'We've been doing a lot of reminiscing,' Meredith slurred; except Cristina only realised the last word was reminiscing because it fit the context. Meredith pronounced it with about three more syllables than were actually in the word.

'That is what drunk people do; they remember other times when they were drunk or talking about being drunk,' Cristina sighed and the weight of Meredith's head on her shoulder was certainly nice, but also out of place. It should be on a pillow and preferably the pillow would be on a bed. As if she read her mind Meredith raised her head to look at Cristina.

'We should do something new, you know, create a new memorable memory,' Meredith suggested and her voice sounded tired too. Cristina knew it would be a struggle to get Meredith upstairs, so she'd better be getting up right now when she was still capable of doing so.

'Let's go to bed,' Cristina simply said.