I glanced at my glass of “ice water” I’d left at our table. Before the wedding, I’d emptied a water bottle and gone downstairs to fill it with vodka. Every sip I’d taken during the course of the day made me feel physically better and emotionally worse.

“The second they smash that cake in each other’s faces, I’m done. Fourteen hours is enough for one day. This is more stressful than being on the mountain at the head of a fire.”

Tyler’s mouth pulled up into a half-smile, and he kissed my temple. I didn’t pull away, barely giving it a second thought. Earlier, his family had mentioned that I would give in to Tyler eventually. I wasn’t even sure what we were anymore. We had started a series of two steps forward and four steps back since the beginning and couldn’t seem to kick it.

Beads of sweat were forming between my skin and my dress, and dampening the hair at the nape of my neck. It wasn’t so much hot as it was humid. The air was thick and heavy, draping over my skin like an electric blanket.

The song ended, and Travis led Abby to the cake table by the hand. I left Tyler on the dance floor to find Camille and my camera, trying not to feel too irritated that she’d taken over a hundred pictures in the five minutes it had been in her possession.

I focused the lens while Travis and Abby pushed down on the knife to make the first slice. Everyone chuckled while Abby threatened him as he inched the small square of cake toward her mouth. An instant later it was over, sealed with a kiss. Everyone clapped, and then the music began to play again. I snapped a few more pictures and then made my way to our table, swiping my drink and finishing it off before I reached the small bar in the corner.

“Rum?” the bartender said, sweat streaming down his temple.

“Vodka cranberry. A double, please … mostly vodka.” I watched him closely as he poured, nodding with satisfaction as he poured three-fourths vodka and the rest cranberry juice. I’d realized vodka was cheap and the least smelling of spirits, and it was easy to mix with most things, making it easiest for me to take to work or most functions. “Better go ahead and make me another,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. I finished off the first drink before leaving, turning with a smile on my face, hoping anyone watching would think I’d just come away with one drink.

Hiding, concealing, and strategizing to seem normal. I wasn’t sure how much longer the functioning part of my alcoholism would continue to be true.

“Easy,” Tyler said. “Everything okay?”