Page 2 of Liquid Courage
Vivian turned toward her. “Come again?”
Scowling, Shari pointed to Vivian’s stomach. “I barely recognized you. Either you’re doing some Photoshopping magic, or you’re really good at camera angles.” She laughed. “Sorry, but I like a girl with a little more meat on her bones. I think it’s important to keep your pictures updated so you don’t waste people’s time. Have a good night.”
Shari stepped out as if her shit didn’t stink and she was the hottest woman in town.Well, to be fair, she kinda is.Yet Vivian was too shocked to admire that voluptuous derriere as it sauntered out of the bar, Miss Shari’s nose up in the air to make sure she didn’t smell her shit that didn’t stink.
Vivian remained at the bar, alone, her empty glass in front of her while she attempted to process what had happened. Did Shari… imply she was nothing but an ugly sack of bones? Vivian pulled out her compact and gazed at her own face. Was it gaunt? Could the world still tell how sickly she had been? Something wet was at the corner of her eye. She wiped it away and closed the compact.
She knew it. How could she go out on a date like this, knowing how ugly she was? Of course a beautiful woman didn’t think she was sexually attractive. Not even pretty enough to be treated with common decency. Sure, Vivian hadn’t planned ondatingthis woman long-term, unless things headed in that direction. This was motivated by sex and nothing else. Sex that no one would ever want to have with Vivian. Gaining her weight back hadn’t been easy. Now, the whole world knew it.
Vivian wiped more tears away. Should she go home with her tail tucked between her legs? She considered calling her sister. What good would that do, though? What would Phyllis do? Listen to her sister cry because some woman was mean to her?
“Hey. I saw what happened.”
Vivian looked up. The bartender stood before her, back from the other end of the bar where she must have witnessed this sorry shit show. “Sorry you had to hear that,” Vivian said. “That was so embarrassing.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” The bartender, a lean woman wearing red flannel and sporting a ring in her nose, drew back her upper lip as if to sneer in Shari’s direction. “You’re not the first one she’s pulled that stunt on.”
“What?”
“I’m serious.” A rag passed over the far end of the bar. Streaks of mildly soapy water faded on the countertop as the bartender spoke. “That woman comes in here every other week with a new ‘date.’ I don’t know where she gets you guys. On the street, off some app… whatever. Point is, she trolls for fresh meat to fuck with. I can tell within five minutes if she’s gonna be rude or not. Let me tell you, it happens more often than not.”
“How so?”
“For one, most of the girls she brings here end up going home alone, either crying or punching shit. So while it hurts, you shouldn’t take it personally. That woman ain’t right in the head. She’s obsessed with appearances. The shallowest kind of person you can find. If she had gotten you into bed and didn’t like your birthmark? Oh, boy. Say goodnight to your self-esteem right in the middle of sex.”
Vivian didn’t know whether to be relieved or to gag on her own spit. “That doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Do you wanna be told you’re too skinny to be attractive?”
“You’re not too skinny.”
“You sure? I came down with something nasty last year. Been in recovery for a few months, but that sort of thing fucks up your body really bad. It’s hard for me to keep weight on right now. Sounds like a paradise, I guess, but I feel so brittle sometimes!” Vivian sighed. On one hand, how pathetic was it that she said this shit to a total stranger? On the other, that’s what bartenders were for. Especially cute ones with piercings, undercut hair, and a double-Venus necklace hanging low on her chest. “I used to be fairly athletic a while back. Now I feel like I’ll never build that muscle up again. I can’t even play softball like I used to, and Ilovesoftball. Sure, I can do simple exercises, and obviously I’m not sick anymore, but…” More tears. “It’s hard! I already feel like I’m trapped in this body that I barely recognize. Whenever I look in the mirror, I feel like I’m looking at a stranger. My friends and family tell me that I look the same, but when someone like that woman sees the same thing I do… how do I not take it personally?”
The bartender remained a good listener. Of course she was. She was a fuckin’ bartender, and it was in her job description! “That’s really tough. I get it. But you can’t let a shithead like her reinforce what you’re thinking. If you do that, it’ll only make things worse. Besides, she’s not seeing what you’re seeing. She’s seeing a projection of what she hates the most.”
Vivian considered that with a single sniff. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Still, that doesn’t stop it from hurting.”
“Of course it doesn’t. Because that was rude as fuck.”
At least she agreed. Vivian held up her empty glass and asked for one more. The bartender gave it to her on the house.
“To whom do I owe this pleasure, anyway?” Vivian asked, happy to see her glass full of alcohol again. One more and she would be done with this bar and Shari for good. “I didn’t get your name.”
The bartender smiled. Funny how a single smile could feminize a woman’s appearance. Vivian wasn’t attracted to one form of gender expression over the other. She was more attracted to how a woman owned her appearance and personality, and what she did with it in any situation. Shari had used her femininity to lure women into being insulted and hurt. The bartender offered a more masculine aura behind the counter, but the moment she smiled, it was like the glass barrier between them shattered. The remaining ice in Vivian’s drink reminded her of that.
This woman was the glorious opposite of Shari. While that woman’s vanity would surely be the end of her, the casual bartender remained effortlessly confident as she leaned against the bar and tugged at the sleeves of her red flannel shirt. “The name’s Kat,” she said, still smiling like she had won some grand prize. “You didn’t catch it because I never told you what it was.”
Vivian held up her final glass of the night. “Thanks, Kat. I’m glad you told me about Shari, because it sure don’t feel good being on the receiving end of her shit.”
“You’ll forget about it soon enough. You’ll be getting so many compliments that it’ll be a blip in your history.”
Alcohol bubbled in Vivian’s glass. “You think so, huh?”
“I know it.”
Vivian didn’t know if Kat was flirting with her. Bartenders were paid their worth in tips if they were charming enough.It’s working on me.Too bad she couldn’t tell if those sparkling eyes or those wagging brows told the truth or wanted Vivian to feel better about her shitty situation – and nothing more.
Other patrons came into the bar and sat not too far from Vivian, forcing Kat to wander away. Vivian remained at her end, sighing into her glass of alcohol as she tried to decide what to do with the rest of her night. Cry? Eat some ice cream? Cry some more? Hell, why not? She hadn’t had a good cry since the sickness hit. Never had the energy to cry.
“Thanks,” she said to Kat as she slipped off her stool, grabbed her purse, and wandered out of the bar. When she arrived an hour earlier, she had no idea if she would be leaving alone or not. Turned out she would, with only her hurt feelings to make her feel better as she walked down to the bus stop in the dark.
At least hurt feelings were better than no feelings. Sometimes it was nice to be reminded that she was alive after suffering in the hospital for so long.
