Tequila on a Sunday Afternoon

Rissa and the rest of the cousins knocked on the door, inviting me to drink out in their garage. Cousin Jimmy had sent a bottle of clear tequila from San Francisco, and this was the only time we had to drink it. So at 3 p.m. on a sweltering Sunday, we had shots of tequila with rock salt and calamansi (!!), and semi-fresh salmon sashimi.

The first time I ever went drinking with them, I was 12, in grade 6, in 1993. It was New Year's Eve and we were listening to 89.9.'s top 100 (or 40?) countdown of the year's best songs. It was the year of the Cranberries' "Linger," of Def Leppard's "Two Steps Behind," of the 4 Non Blondes' "What's Up". I distinctly remember that "Heyayeaah-heyayay" in the background while I took my first swig of tequila, felt its thick heat down my throat, and thought I was exhaling fire. I remember wanting to be in high school or in college too, certain that life had thrills and misadventures in store for me. Before surprise babies, before marriage plans, before suicide attempts (and one success), we had this communion, we passed the shots around, we drank past the songs and the laughter and the firecrackers, until everything turned quiet again.