Page 43 of Enough
Nice change of subject.We fix our lipstick and watch the people coming and going for a couple of minutes in silence.
“We can do this,” she says.
“Totes,” I reply confidently.
We continue to stare at the door and people-watch. Everyone looks so young and hip. I can feel any confidence in myself draining away. I stare down at my black jeans and wish they weren’t so tight. A few more minutes pass. We take out pieces of gum to chew and pretend to be busy getting ready to go in when the truth is we’re both stalling.
“I like her shoes,” I say, motioning as a girl who looks half our age struts to the door.
Gwen follows my gaze and leans to the side to get a better look. She grabs the steering wheel to balance as she checks them out. “Oh yeah, they’re super cute.”
We sit in silence for a few more minutes until Gwen turns to face me. “What are we doing?” she asks.
“I don’t know!” I laugh back.
“We act like we don’t belong here. Like we’re too old to go to a bar for a drink!”
“Yeah, the truth is, most of these people are probably too young to be in there.”
“Right? So let’s go! Let’s do it!”
“Okay! Let’s go.”
Gwen and I take a deep breath as we step out of the car. The bar seems miles away. We try to act confident as we stroll inside, but the minute eyes turn to check us out, I immediately want to hide.
As soon as she sees the younger, hipper crowd, Gwen turns to me and frowns. Her face needs to be an emoji. I could die laughing right here. She leads the way to a table off to the side, away from the crowd, and we slide in, happy to be out of the limelight.
Our waitress is patient and she recommends French martinis for us when we appear clueless about what to drink.They’re super strong, and we both play with our glasses and try to make small talk over the music.
“It’s loud in here!”
“What?” she asks.
“IT’S LOUD!” I shout with increased volume, pointing upward with one hand and covering my ear with the other.
“Yeah!” she shouts back. “I can’t think!”
We scoot closer together to hear each other better and end up watching everyone as we sip our drinks. We point out mediocre-looking guys as they enter the bar and then observe them attract girls who are way out of their league.
“Does everyone settle now?” Gwen asks.
I shrug my shoulders. These girls are beautiful. Way prettier and in better shape than I am. If the guys who talk to them are the besttheycan get, than what does it mean for an older mom like me? A destiny of more despair, apparently.
After we finish the second drink I swore we wouldn’t have, Gwen and I decide to leave. As we exit the bar, it takes us a few minutes to adjust to the sound difference. We head home with a quarter of the enthusiasm we had when we originally left to go out.
“You know what I want right now?” Gwen asks.
“What?”
“Fries. I want French fries.”
“Me too,” I say enthusiastically as if she just read my innermost desire.
“Extra salt!”
After stopping and each ordering our own large fries so we don’t have to share, Gwen and I munch away as we drive. We both finish them before we get home.
“Ugh,” I say, holding my stomach as I push out of her car. “I feel bloated.”
