Day 16: Tradition
Chicago, Illinois 1986
“No,” Eddie shakes his head wildly, curls whipping back and forth. “Nope! Absolutely not!”
“Just a little?” Chrissy asks, sliding over to sit on his knee, her bottom lip swelling as she wraps her arms around his neck.
Very, very, cute. But, still no.
“Come on boy, it’s a family tradition,” Wayne objects, already a little slurred, reaching for the mason jar to fill a glass for her. “One shot after dinner, just let her try some.”
“Noooo!” Eddie replies, snagging it from him. It’s always concerning when he’s the voice of reason in the room. “I find myself a nice girl and you’re trying to fucking poison her, old man.”
“Excuse me, boy, you watch that mouth.” he scolds. “It’s Christmas!”
Eddie rolls his eyes. Of course he’s still sober enough to reprimand him.
“Aren’t I family?” she asks in a tiny voice, really overselling it with the big sad eyes and fluttery eyelashes. God help him.
He gives her waist a little squeeze to placate her. “Of course you’re family, sweetheart,” he consoles. “But you’re also a hundred and eight pounds and the strongest drink you’ve ever had is ginger ale.”
Her pout becomes less sad and more petulant. “I’ve had a vodka cranberry before.”
“A half of a vodka cranberry and that almost did you in.” he chuckles, taking her chin in his hand. “Don’t make that face, you know I can never deny you anything, so believe me when I say that this is too rough, baby.”
“But, I just want to try the tiniest bit.” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his, pinching her finger and thumb as close as possible without touching to demonstrate just how tiny she means.
He pulls back and looks her dead in the eye. “No.”
“Eddie!” she whines. “C’mon!”
“If she’s going to be a Munson, she needs to try it at least once. It’s a rite of passage.” Wayne insists. “Our girl is tough as nails; she can handle it!”
“See!” she cries, shaking his shoulder. “Wayne says it’s fine!”
“That’s because Wayne is toasted after two shots! Wayne!” Eddie tells her pointedly, holding up the jar for her to see, the clear liquid sloshing around inside. “Honey, this isn’t your regular everyday hard liquor, okay? It’s handmade, southern, backwoods acid.” he explains. “It’s pure moonshine. It burns holes inside your guts. You know all the shit I’ve done and tried, and I swear to God, this this is the nastiest stuff I have ever put in my body.”
She stares at it for a few seconds, then looks back at up at him. “Just a little drop?”
“Oh my God,” he sighs, head falling back in exasperation.
“Good lord, you know you’re going to cave eventually, just let her have some.” Wayne grumbles.
“Please.” she draws out at that sweet high octave that makes him absolutely crazy.
Eddie groans under his breath before snapping his head back up. “You know what, hot shot? Fine, you can take a sip off the top of mine, but just a sip, you hear me?”
She nods eagerly as he pours his shot glass.
If Eddie was a smarter man, he’d have taken his shot first and left her a little leftover to sip. But he did repeat the twelfth grade three times and this concept doesn’t come to him until after he hands her the full glass and she chucks it all back in one go.
“Woaw! Hey! Holy shit!”
@hellcheerxmas
