A/N: Okay... so this is just some random though that ran through my (Julie) head. Reviews would be nice. Mac's POV.
"Can I get ya'll anything to drink?"
Her ears fill with answers of choices in wine and beer. Momentarily, she's lost within herself, as she takes a deep breath. She knows her turn will be coming any moment. This is one of her excuses of not going out often with her friends. She watches them, smiling and laughing with one another. She is on the outside looking in. Across from her, she sees one of her best friends lean over and kiss her husband on the cheek. Probably for being his own sweet self, but she'll never know. Their voices are muted to her ears. Beside them, a man is talking to an older man, a man who's been more a father to her than anyone else in this world. They both let out a laugh, as her gaze shifts onto a younger woman, who is talking to the couple across from her. She's smiling, she's happy.
"And for you ma'am?"
The waiter's heavy Texan accent sounds fuzzy, as she looks up at him. He looks back, with expectant eyes. She opens her mouth, but she's pulled back in time. She can see herself passed out on her bed. She can taste the alcohol on her tongue. She can feel the burn it leaves in her throat. She can see herself, dragging herself out of bed, ignoring the horrible feeling coming over her body.
She can feel the pain, as a hand comes crashing down on her cheek. Her father's words haunt her mind. Words of uselessness, hopelessness, worthlessness repeats in her mind. She remembers the smell of whiskey on his breath. She can feel herself being pushed into the wall of her living room. She can remember the hatred.
Suddenly, her hand feels warm. Someone squeezes it, and her eyes dart from an old memory, back to his blue eyes. She looks down at their hands intertwined. She looks at the ring on her finger. She remembers the sweetness of him. She needs something sweet. She's sick of the bitterness. She looks back up at his wonderful smile of confidence and love, and she smiles back at him. Without breaking his gaze, she opens her lips, and licks them lightly. "Shirley Temple, please."
The world's noises come back. Chatter, and laughter fill her ears. Glasses clinging together in cheers sound wonderful to her. She leans over, and kisses her own husband's cheek. Just for being his own sweet self. And to tide her over until their alone – a Shirley Temple.