Turk Tuesdays change after we move out of Edge. We only meet once a month, and since I've been sidelined, they've always come to us. I'm eating a cup of yogurt with honey drizzled on top when Rude comes through the door. He's carrying a huge cooler that sloshes with the sound of ice, water, and glass bottles.
"Please tell me you brought some good stuff!" I plead. Vincent is very careful about the amount of alcohol I can consume because of my recovery, but he makes an exception for Turk Tuesdays.
"Only the best: 7th Heaven micro-brews. She's been experimenting with new flavors; she sent six of each for us to try. We've got to report back what worked, what didn't."
"Sweet!" I say, shoving the last spoonful of yogurt into my mouth. I scrape along the right angles of the container trying to get every last drop of honey out, but the rounded edge of the spoon is useless. I lick out what I can, even going so far as to use my finger, but there are delicious drops of golden goo that stubbornly stick in the crevices. I turn my plastic spoon over and use the sharp end to dig out the last bit. Rude stares at me, and shakes his head as if this isn't normal Reno behavior.
"What?" I demand, "I hate when that last little bit thinks it gonna get away without being eaten, yo!"
He continues to shake his head as he carries the cooler to the kitchen. Tseng, Elena, and Jade are close on his heels, each loaded down with grocery bags full of food from the Cosmo Canyon store.
"You know," I say, chucking the empty container into the recycling bin, "if you'd send a list, I could go to the store before ya'll arrive and save you the time and trouble."
"And it would be good physical therapy for him as well," Vincent says as he joins us. He's barefoot and limping, but he doesn't mind showing that weakness in front of our family, our friends.
"I never know what I want until I'm about to cook it," Rude says, "but you always love it, so stop complaining."
"Will it be something flashy this time?" I ask, hopping up and down like a two year old. Jade giggles.
"If you've got that much energy," Tseng says, "then perhaps we need to have the next Turk Tuesday at our house."
Rude makes honest to goodness tofu and veggie burgers from scratch; they look like flatten out balls of Chocobo shit, but when they go on the grill… they smell divine.
I sit on the lounge chair on the natural cut balcony off the living room with my feet propped up, a beer in one hand and the remnants of my third veggie burger on a plate in my lap. Jade is inside on the couch, trying to show 'Grandpa Vincent' how to play a racing game on his phone. "No, no," she moans, "like this!" It sounds hysterical, but I'm too tired to get out of my chair. Elena empties the last bit of the potato chips onto my plate.
"Eat, eat," she giggles, already on her fourth beer. She stumbles into the chair next to me, and flops bonelessly. At least I don't have to worry about her falling over the side and plunging to her death at the bottom of the Canyon. Rude and Tseng are in the kitchen, clearing up. Everything is right in the world.
My eyes drift closed, and I set the bottle and plate on the floor off to the right side where I won't accidentally step on them. Elena reaches across the space between us and interlocks her fingers into mine.
"What's wrong, Rookie?"
"Nothing," she says, yawning, "nothing at all, Senpai."
Most of the time Rude catches a ride home with Tseng and Elena, but this time he doesn't. After the others leave, he sits on the couch, his shoulder touching mine. His sunglasses are on the table, his shoes are off, and his head is tilted back on the sofa.
"How many beers did you drink?"
"At least six," he answers, hiccuping.
"Not that I mind or anything, but why are you still here?"
Vincent moves slowly through the room, picking up empty bottles, and putting them in a cardboard box for recycling. I can tell he's a little bit drunk, because he's not as graceful and I can hear the bottles rattling.
"Is he drunk?" Rude asks, bypassing my question.
"Not like I am, like you are; he's..."
"Pleasantly buzzed." Vincent provides the correct description, proving he's on the other side of drunk and heading toward sober already.
"Reno, you only drank, like, three beers," Rude accuses. "You can't be drunk."
"I know, I'm a light-weight now 'cause of my meds. It's not my fault," I say, nodding until I'm dizzy. "But really, why didn't you leave with Tseng and Elena?" I keep coming around to the point, worrying it like a dog with a bone. I'm horny, and if he's gonna stay the night, I'd might as well go take care of my frustrations by hand now, 'cause Vincent's not gonna help me out with company in the house.
"Trying to get rid of me, partner?"
"Nope, but if you're staying the night, I'll need to remember where the extra pillows and stuff are."
"In the linen closet," Vincent says from the kitchen.
"Oh, ok," I respond, "is that the closet near the bathroom?"
"Yes," Vincent says, coming back to the living room. He's done with the clean-up, and collapses into the arm chair next to the couch. I put my feet up on his lap.
"So, um Rude, I'm assuming you want to talk about something."
He sits completely still and makes a non-comital sound in the back of his throat. Vincent pushes my feet to the side and stands. "I've got this thing with… Nanaki; I'll be back," he announces, and is gone before I can say anything.
"Is it safe for him to be walking around like that?" Rude asks.
"He's fine. What's the problem?" I'm a little annoyed that Rude won't talk in front of my husband, so I'm a bit brusque.
"I just… Why am I the last Turk alone?"
"Whoa, that's… dude, you're making me sober. Save all that deep stuff for when I'm not shit-faced."
"Even you have someone? What's wrong with me, Reno?"
"What the hell does that mean?" I get up and head into the kitchen. There are two half-empty bottles in the sink. I take them both and head back to the couch. I keep one and hand the other to Rude.
"Do I have even worse karma than you? Did you rub all your cooties on me?"
"Gaia," I sigh. "Well, when was the last time you went on a date? You have to get out there and, you know, actually look."
"…," he says.
"Name the last five people you dated." I swig the remaining couple of sips quickly, hoping to regain my inebriation, but this serious conversation is chasing it all away.
"… Chelsea –"
"You mean the spy from Avalanche who tried to bug you at the Seventh Heaven back in '01? That's pathetic and it doesn't count. Try again." I tip the bottle upside down and hold it over my tongue. Two or three little drops of blueberry-flavored ale hit the center of my tongue and then the bottle is dry. I put the bottle on the table, knowing that Vincent would shake his head at me, but not really caring.
"Tifa at the karaoke party –"
"Also doesn't count, that was a group date. Next?"
Rude pauses, chugging the entire contents of his bottle in three mighty gulps. "… you –"
"If you think having sex with me one time counts as a date, it's no wonder you are still alone. Good Gaia, man, a one-night stand doesn't count as a dating relationship. You are pathetic, that's why you are alone."
"It's not my fault, no one understands a Turk, but a Turk. You and Tseng both found former Turks to marry. I'm the odd man out."
"Is there anyone you are interested in? Maybe Vincent and I could do a double-date or something, to make you less awkward."
"Tifa, but she's…taken."
"She is, Rude; it is time to move on," I say, putting my hand on his knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. He puts his hand on top of mine for a second, then pushes it away so he can lean forward and place his bottle on the floor by his feet.
"Everyone our age is either taken, married, or divorced six times. Single people our age are pathetic," he complains, falling back into the overstuffed couch.
"I don't think you get to be that picky, Rude. Single is all you can hope for, divorced or not. Stop looking for something perfect and start being open to those around you."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you've got a gorgeous guy, you don't get to tell me to aim lower."
"He's just as broken as I am," I say.
"Together you are whole and that makes me so fucking jealous," he says, yawning.
I turn my head so I can look at him, but he's passed out on the couch, snoring. I pull myself together enough to stumble up the stairs and find the linen closet. There are extra blankets and pillows, as Vincent promised. By the time I get back down stairs and tuck Rude into the couch, Vincent is sneaking in the front door, trying not to make any noise. He nods at me and heads up to our bedroom.
Rude's right, of course, we are only whole together and the conversation rattles me enough that I hide in Vincent's arms the rest of the night, pretending that I somehow deserve him.