The Fourth of July with Marie.

"Your hair is really pretty. I like your pretty orange hair." Marie turned to me as we weaved our way through the crowd. "I want pretty orange hair." She looked back to find the Orange-haired Girl, but she was gone. "I want pretty orange hair."

It was the Fourth of July in Lake Henry, a summer tourist town built by mobsters of the twenties and thirties on the remains of a revolutionary war site. Thousands of people swept up and down the sidewalk in tides all around us, filling shops and emptying wallets. Marie was good and drunk and I had to keep a firm grip on her arm so as not to lose her to the crowd. Or the ground.

We had spent the previous hours at the park, under a tree, drinking a couple of bottles worth of wine out of sports bottles, reading Hemingway and wondering where all of the local Indian people had come from recently (besides India). When the wine ran out, we needed to get more, of course, and headed up to the main strip of town.

It was here that it must have hit Marie. The wine. Somewhere in that half-mile stretch. I didn't notice it until the Orange-haired Girl.

"We'll get you orange hair," I said, "come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get more booze."

"Okay."

We shoved through the sweaty mass of tourists and scene-picking locals.

"Nice tits." Marie said.

I turned to her. "What?"

"That girl. She had nice tits. I told her she had nice tits."

"Okay."

"Douche bag."

I stopped. "Did you just call me a douche bag?"

"No." She turned and pointed. "I called that douche bag a fucking douche bag. Just look at that douche bag."

He was less than ten feet from us and pretending he wasn't listening. I pulled Marie into the doorway of a shop.

"Listen," I said. "You can't do that."

"I think I'm drunk."

"Yes, that's true, and that's fine, but you can't insult people okay?"

"Why?"

"Because if I get in a fight because of you, I'm leaving you here."

Marie frowned at me.

"You can compliment people," I said, "but not insult them. Is that fair?"

"Yes. I guess."

I thought it over for a minute. "Not dudes though. Ignore dudes all together. Compliment girls."

"Okay." She smiled, and looked at the passing crowd. "Nice butt."

I looked. It was. We moved on.

"I'm hungry." She said.

"What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know." She looked around. "I can't read the signs. I think I'm drunk."

"I think you're right." I looked around, across the street. "There's pizza, Indian..."

"Pizza. I want some fucking pizza. Do you want pizza?"

"Sure baby."

I took her hand and we walked up to the crosswalk. A group of about thirty were standing around waiting for the light to change despite the complete lack of traffic. We went across. Hesitantly, the group followed against all pleading of the big orange hand flashing above them on the screen. I thought of the Pied Piper. Rats. The Plague. I was losing my buzz.

On the other side, Marie began to storm into the pizza place, despite a line flowing out of the door.

"Baby, hold on." I said. "There's a line."

"Gay."

"I know." We walked to the end of the line, behind a couple of girls just barely old enough to buy me more wine.

"Hello." Marie said to them.

One of them (a blonde) turned and smiled. The other (brunette) said, "Hello."

"You're very pretty." Marie told the brunette. Then to the blonde; "You too. You're both very pretty."

"Thanks," said the blonde. "You are too." She smiled and I thought I picked up a hint of flirtation, but what the fuck do I know?

Marie pulled in close to me. "They're pretty. I complimented them."

"You did. It was nice of you."

"They're grabbing each others butts."

I looked, and they were.

"It's an invitation." I said.

Marie was looking at the blonde girls ass intently and pointed her finger at it. Then slowly pushed it into the left cheek, and pulled it away. The blonde girl looked over her shoulder and smiled, then squeezed her friends ass again. Images of sweaty four person piles played in my head. I had to remember my jeans were tight, and I thought about the dishes I had to do at home. Marie poked the blonde's ass again.

"You have a nice butt."

The blonde turned around. "Thanks." She peered around Marie's back, and poked. "You too."

Marie giggled. The girls went in and ordered their pizza.

"Was hoping that was going somewhere." I said.

"I bet you were."

We went inside, and Marie kept resting her head on my shoulder. She handed me her credit card and said "You have to do this. I don't see."

"Okay. What do you want? Slice of pepperoni?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"And a garlic knot."

"Okay."

The cook took my order, ran the card and handed me three scalding paper plates, already transparent with grease. "Go outside," I said to Marie.

We went outside, and I told Marie to sit on the curb. The ass-Girls were eating down the street a bit. Marie sat down, and I set the plates down next to her. "It's hot."

I picked up my slice, and in a few bites finished it. Marie just watched me,waiting for hers to cool. "You're done already?"

"I am." I said.

"I can't pick that up ." She said, pointing at the mess of pizza spread across the plate. I picked up her slice, and folded it up neatly, doing my best to keep it from spilling hot grease all over my hand. The cheese kept sliding out and the front of the crust was soaking. "That's gross." She said.

"What is?"

"That wet part."

I ate it.

"Thank you." She said, and I handed her the rest of it. She ate it and the garlic knot, and I asked her; "Do you feel better?"

"A little. I think I feel sick."

"So, not better."

"No. Not better."

"Let's sit for a while then." I said.

"No." She said, getting up. "I want to walk. Let's walk."

"Okay. But if you need to rest, we rest, okay?"

"Okay."

We crossed the street again and headed down toward the beach. Bikinis and shorts were everywhere and I kept expecting more "compliments" and molestation, but Marie had moved past that stage.

"I thought we were more booze?" She said.

"No, we are going to relax for a while."

"Okay. I can't stand." Marie sat down on the sidewalk. I sat down next to her and pointed out at nothing on the lake, pretending that we were just noticing something beautiful in the distance, and not drunk and falling down on the sidewalk. I mouthed nothing in particular, and helped her get back up. We walked over to a nearby bench, and sat. Marie put her head back on my shoulder.

"I love you." She said.

"I love you too honey."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being too drunk."

"Don't be baby. Happens to the best of us. I got you."

"I know. I love you."

"I love you too."

"I have to pee."

"Want to find a bathroom?" I asked.

"No." Marie peeled off her shorts, revealing her bathing suit, stood up, and walked across the beach into the lake and sat down. A few second later, she got back up. I walked over to her.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yes." She put her shorts back on.

Night was rolling in. The fireworks would be starting soon.

"Want to find a place to sit and watch the fireworks?" I asked.

"Okay honey."

We walked up the sidewalk, and found an empty spot on a grassy hill near the town bandstand. The darkness wrapped up around us as the town came together for Americana at its best, and we laid embracing on the hill.

I'm not a fan of fireworks, but being with Marie makes everything beautiful. I kissed the top of her head.

"I love you baby," she said.