Saturday, December 19th, 1953
11:53 p.m.

"C'mon, there's no way on earth your old lady could drink me under the table." Phil boasted as he loosened the striped tie around his neck.

"She's not my 'old lady,' Phil." Therese said as she jokingly punched the corner of his arm. Phil reached for where his arm and shoulder met to rub the spot. "Have some respect."

"What? You two are practically married. She's definitely your old lady." Therese punched him again. "Ow, that hurts!"

The apartment was filled with much of the under-thirty photograph and editorial crowd from the Times along with a variety of Phil's friends from the theaters and cinemas. It was an impromptu holiday party the weekend before Christmas, all held at Carol's suggestion. The before-Christmas skiing plans had to be scrapped as Carol was needed at the store for last-minute Christmas shoppers who wanted those special one-of-a-kind pieces that only she had a knack for tracking down. Plus the commission earned between Thanksgiving and Christmas was superb; more than enough to buy those first-class steamer tickets to Europe for April.

They never held a housewarming party; it was never the right time after all that has happened in the winter. Their relationship was so new as they moved in together, settled into a daily routine, and more or less nested. While they would go out for dinner or to the movies on weeknights, weekends were almost entirely spent alone together in the apartment listening to music, reading, cocooned in bed, wrapped in each other and their own little world.

Months later, after they were more than settled, it seemed like a silly idea to have a housewarming party. A Christmas party though, that would be perfectly good reason to have everyone over for an evening of merriment. Carol insisted Therese invite her friends from work, being sure to mention that she would not have anyone from the furniture house partake.

"Oh, no, let's make this a lively affair." she had insisted.

Carol had positively no idea how lively it would actually get once the party started. Or what would happen when an inebriated Phil commented that she was throwing back those whiskeys like a man.

After a series of four shots in a row between Carol and Phil, Therese stood in their dining room, completely awestruck by what was unfolding in front of her. She had, of course, seen Carol drink. She had been drinking right there with her. But this was something else altogether. "I can't believe they're doing this." Therese said to herself out loud.

Phil rolled up the sleeve of his plaid shirt, tirelessly pointing to his pink elbow that featured a one-inch purple streak just above the joint. "Baseball bat to the elbow. Age nine. Thanks a lot, Dannie!"

Not to be outdone, Carol lifted her leg onto the dining table. Barely visible through the translucent stockings was an equally long scar on her right leg. Therese had always wondered where that scar came from. "Montclair Country Club. Age none-of-your-business. Riding accident."

"Yeah, riding Therese, more like." a female voice shouted from the back.

"I heard that!" A wide-eyed Therese turned around to see who had spoken, but couldn't tell from all the laughter. Probably was Louise, she gathered, no one else would have said that in present company.

The two kept throwing insults and quips at one another, gloating and bragging over (what Therese thought) the strangest things. Shot after shot, Carol and Phil went through the bottle of Old Overholt to the amazement of all the party's attendees, many of whom were silently drinking along to the contest happening before them.

Finally, Phil loosened his tie even more and undid his collar to reveal the deep red puckered skin just south of his shoulder blade. "38th Parallel. Sniper's bullet. Clean through." One more shot.

One of the young men on the couch shouted a salute to Corporal McElroy, for which they all cheered. Must have been one of Phil's army buddies from back in the day. Therese didn't recognize him.

Carol squinted her eyes as she held onto her shot glass. She tapped the bottom of it on the table, then let go of the glass to reach over for her purse on the credenza. From her bag, she produced her favorite black-and-white photo of Rindy which she dangled in front of Phil.

"Englewood Hospital. Six pounds, nine ounces. No painkillers." Carol took a shot. "And no twilight sleep." She pounded back one more for good measure.

Everyone in the room, even Therese, scrunched their faces up and made a loud, disapproving sound. Carol gave the photo a quick kiss before tucking it safely back into her purse and slamming each empty shot glass back onto the table top. Therese cringed when she thought of the expression on Carol's face if she'd see any rim indentations to her early 19th-century Chippendale table for ten. If there was any damage. Hopefully not, or there would never be another gathering of her friends at their place ever.

Phil held out a shot glass of whiskey and looked Carol straight in the eye. She unwaveringly stared back, challenging him with just a look. Phil didn't need to say a word. He stared her down for a good 30 seconds, until his focus wobbled, and finally threw back the drink without saying another word. Everyone cheered and Dannie readied another shot. The small clear glass sat still on the table, untouched.

Carol raised the glass to her mouth, wetting her lips repeatedly with her tongue, fittingly staring at Phil before she drank. "You forget: The ten years before I met Therese, I was a suburban housewife in New Jersey." Carol threw back another shot of whiskey, placing it upside down on the table with a tremendous thud. "Housewives. Can. Hold. Their. Liquor."

All the boys loudly cheered for Carol, clapping their hands and stomping on the floor.

Phil's head hit the table and it was all over. At least not on the handwoven carpet.

Sunday, December 20th, 1953
12:40 p.m.

Seated on the bed, Therese leaned over Carol while she slept and delicately flipped over the washcloth resting on her brow. Abby stood next to the bed and also leaned in to look at her friend with a pained look. Carol opened her eyes wide to see the two most important women in her life hovering over her, fretting over her with disapproving looks.

At least, she thought, it was Therese and Abby there looking at her. Everything was blurry and spinning. Her mouth tasted like wadded up cotton balls had been left in too long and her throat was scratchy, even her voice came out deeper than usual. "Don't. Anybody. Move. Either of you."

"I did warn you." Therese scorned.

"Don't. Move."

Therese took the washcloth and placed it over her eyes instead. Abby stood up and angled herself toward Therese in order for them to quietly speak. "How much did she drink exactly?"

"Enough to take on a six-foot, 185-pound, 25-year old in a drinking contest."

"Yikes." Abby observed her sleeping best friend with a hint of pity and disfavor. "Shame she lost."

"Oh no, Carol won. The loser is presently sleeping in our bathtub." Therese gestured toward their en-suite bathroom. She felt oddly proud at the achievement, but didn't think that she should have felt that way. Abby scurried to the door to look in, quickly seeing Phil all sprawled out in the tub wearing nothing but a tank top and boxer shorts with his trousers dangling from one foot hanging over the edge.

"Then who are those two on the couch?"

"That's Phil's brother Dannie and Louise."

Abby paused. "She's cute."

"That's Dannie's girlfriend, Abby."

"Shucks."

"You know how Carol is. She insisted everyone still here at 2 a.m. spend the night and not wander home in such a state." Therese explained. That was Carol for you: always so thoughtful and concerned for others. "You want to look after her while I go make breakfast for everyone?"

"Sure."

"Sooner everyone's fed something greasy, sooner the hangovers end, the sooner they'll leave."

Therese spent a good hour in the kitchen frying up all the eggs, bacon and sausages in the house, ladling pancake after pancake onto the griddle, grilling toast, squeezing orange juice, and brewing the strongest blend of coffee she could find. Abby came in once Carol fell back asleep to clean some glasses since every one had been dirtied the night before.

"Breakfast in the dining room." Therese shouted into the bathroom. Phil looked up and rubbed his head. "At least put your pants on."

Therese turned and walked over to the bed to wake up Carol, who was still snoozing and now clinging to Therese's pillow since she wasn't there in bed next to her. "Carol? Time to wake up. You need to eat some breakfast." She tried to sound as sweet and as quiet as possible while trying to rouse her. At first there was nothing but grumblings; however, after a few kisses to the forehead, Carol finally sat up. Therese went to the closet to pull out a silk robe for Carol to wear over her slip.

"Did the others leave yet?"

"No, they're still here. It's breakfast, then everyone goes." Therese flung the robe around her shoulders, lifting her arms into each sleeve, and tying it securely around her waist.

"I can't go out there like this." Carol sighed. Therese looked at her with a grin and walked over to the vanity to get Carol's hair brush, eye shadow, and some mascara. She sat behind her on the bed to quickly brush her hair so it was remotely presentable and then turned Carol around to face one another.

Therese quickly applied some eye shadow and mascara, silently thanking Carol for teaching her how to do makeup in critical moments like these. "See? You'll be fine. Don't worry about the boys and Louise. They could care less." She didn't apply any lipstick since they would just be eating and (everyone else) hopefully leaving. "You're always beautiful, even after drinking all that booze." Therese pressed a kiss to her lips and scrunched up her nose. "I love you dearly, but you will need to brush your teeth later."

There were these moments every so often where Carol would become very self-conscious of her appearance and want to hide from everyone except Therese. All Therese could do is tell her how much she loved her and how she was the most beautiful creature in the world to her. Part of it also had to do with the newness of being open around some of Therese's friends. She never had anyone except for Abby to talk about these things with; not that it was a big deal, but it felt so personal and had always been something so incredibly private. Times were changing around her though. Therese's young friends were kind, intelligent, independent thinkers who weren't concerned with the sex or age of the person you slept next to every night. That was no concern of theirs. They just wanted you to be just as kind, intelligent, and independently minded toward them, and Carol liked that.

As they entered the dining room, Abby was dishing out food to the others already seated. Everyone suddenly started to wake up and chatter among themselves. Their hair was messy, their clothes rumpled, Phil's tie was upside down, Dannie's shirt buttoned into the wrong holes. Once Carol and Therese entered the room, Phil quickly stood up, which he soon regretted for moving so quickly, and walked over to Carol's chair to pull it out for her. Carol was truly touched by the gentlemanly gesture and took her seat at the head of the table, and once she was seated, Phil draped a napkin across her lap like they were at a fine restaurant. Granted, Carol and Therese's apartment was far nicer than any place Therese's friends had been to recently. He leaned down at Carol's side and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. "Thank you for hosting all of us last night, Carol. Therese is seriously one lucky lady to have you."

"Don't think I don't know that." she smiled and winked at Therese, who couldn't stop blushing if she had to. "And thank you for just reminding me how much I don't miss morning stubble." she dryly replied.

Abby opened the bar cabinet and found a bottle of vodka, which surprisingly still had some liquid in it. She opened the bottle, poured a hefty amount into her orange juice, and stirred the glass with a flick of her wrist.

"Vodka anyone?" She was met with nothing but painful groans from everyone at the table. "What? I didn't drink last night away like all you nitwits."