It had been a long day and by 3:00 I was already exhausted — but we were hosting a barbecue at 5 and I definitely needed a jolt of energy so on the way back from Publix I stopped at 7-Eleven and bought myself a Red Bull. A big one.
For the uninitiated, “Red Bull” is an energy drink that packs the wallop of multiple cups of strong coffee. But I don’t like coffee so while I do not habitually down energy drinks there are times, like last Sunday afternoon, when drinking one Red Bull is exactly what I need to get me through the afternoon.
By the time I walked into the house there was a definite spring in my step and my partner was immediately suspicious. “Did you have a Red Bull?” he asked.
“No. Not at all. Uh uh. Not me. No way. Nope. Not me. Why do you ask?” I said, speaking a good bit faster than usual.
“You’re speaking a good bit faster than usual,” he pointed out, opening a bottle of wine.
“Can’ttalk!” I said, racing out of the room. “Companycomingsoon!”
“That stuff will kill you,” he said darkly. “Remember what happened to Darla?” Darla is a friend of ours who spent an evening binge drinking vodka and Red Bull and ended up in the ER with heart palpitations.
“I justhadone,” I said while simultaneously forming ground beef into patties and slicing tomatoes and making cole slaw and filling the ice bucket and wiping down the kitchen counter. “And I’m not mixing it with vodka.” I took a breath. “Nope not me. No vodka. Uh uh.”
My partner was all set to say more but the doorbell rang and I dashed to the front door, leaping over the dog and the ottoman to get there.
“Welcome!” I said to my middle sister and Judson, her husband. “Welcome welcome welcome!”
My sister looked at my partner. “Did he have a Red Bull?” she asked. My partner nodded mutely. “That stuff will kill you,” said my sister. She looked to Judson for affirmation but he was already in the kitchen pouring two glasses of wine. “Juddy?” she called.
He returned a moment later. “It’s after 5,” he said handing my sister a glass. “We’re late!” They both took a big sip.
“That’s not like us,” said my sister, looking concerned.
“What’s with the Red Bull?” Judson asked me, adding, “that stuff will kill you!” Thankfully, before he could say anything else the doorbell rang again.
“Got it!” I said. It was my older sister, my friend Eduardo and Randy, the guy he’s dating; they had all arrived together.
I simultaneously kissed my sister, shook hands with Eduardo and his date and sent my younger brother a text message asking him to pick up a bag of ice on his way over while I greeted a couple of more guests who had just arrived.
“Not again?” said my older sister to my partner, who was refilling his wine glass.
My partner shrugged. “He doesn’t listen to me,” he said. “Maybe Eduardo can talk some sense into him,” he continued. Eduardo is a medical doctor and my partner thought, wrongly, that Eduardo’s advice would carry extra weight. My partner looked around. “Where is Eduardo?” he asked.
Predictably, Eduardo, who weighs in at a svelte 300 pounds, was already helping himself to some snacks. He came back in with a plate loaded with deviled eggs and cheese and crackers; he had notably bypassed the carrot sticks and celery stalks.
“I’m here,” said Eduardo, his mouth full of deviled egg. “That shit will kill you,” he told me, never missing a beat.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Fine, fine fine. Never better! Feeling great!” I did a couple of cartwheels on my way back to the kitchen where I saw Randy, looking thirsty. “Can I get you a drink?” I asked.
Randy’s eyelids were mere slits and he had a hard time standing upright. “Can you make me a ‘stoned Russian’?” he asked, slurring.
“I’m not sure what that is,” I said absently, wondering if I had time to pressure clean the patio before dinner.
“It’s a black Russian mixed with Valium,” said Randy. He dug deep into his pocket and found a Valium. He handed it to me with a shy smile. “My nerves are bad,” he said vaguely, adding, as an afterthought, “Dude, stay away from Red Bull. That shit will kill you.”
While I was mixing Randy’s drink I never noticed that my treasonous family and friends were huddled together, stopping every now and then to peer at me quizzically. A minute later I was outside starting the grill when my older sister came out; she was clearly concerned.
“We need to talk,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “That Red Bull will kill you!”