Wish We Never Started

9

Sadie was right – in the presence of her girlfriend, Shannon is cordial and very good at ignoring my existence.

What can't be ignored is the glares she subtly pierces me with every so often; like when she's shifting her position or taking a sip from her glass. In those moments, you could cut the tension with a knife.

Shannon's girlfriend, May, is from the Philippines. Every few months, she stays and visits here. Her clothing and makeup style is bold and colorful, the complete opposite of Shannon. Her pale pink eyeshadow shimmers with every little movement she makes. I wonder for a moment how much glitter you'd need to pigment an entire pallete.

She said she met Shannon on a tour of New York City. They sat together the entire bus tour, stuck together through all of the walking and building tours, and then exchanged numbers at the end of it. They were both traveling alone and found comfort in each other for the rest of the trip. On the last day of May's trip, they got ice cream together and Shannon slipped her number across the table.

The thought that Shannon could provide any kind of comfort baffles my mind, but in the little interactions here – like the way she looks at her or puts her arm around her – I can clearly tell she cares.

Now, I try to balance refills of all of our drinks in my hands as I walk back to the table. I look at Sadie while I'm concentrating to keep everything upright, wondering how she can do this all day.

I carefully slide Sadie her next margarita, May another glass of wine, pushing it gently by the stem, and Shannon a beer – the fruity sour IPA kind I hate.

She doesn't acknowledge anything when the glass stops just before the edge of the table, almost spilling onto her shirt.

When I sit down, there is a lively conversation about fashion and skincare going on. My eyes glance to all three of them, bouncing like a ping pong ball. Their mouths move quickly and their hands just as fast, but somehow I can't keep up or even understand what they're saying. The conversation gets loud and then quiet all at once.

"I'm taking May to work with me tomorrow so she can shop. She likes thrift stores," Shannon smiles at her girlfriend and I'm relieved I can finally understand something in this conversation.

Then it hits me.

"May, you'd get along so well with Diego. He owns the shop. You have to meet him."

Shannon sits up a little straighter, sipping her beer while her eyes turn in my direction.

"They've already met," she says, a hint of sternness weaving through her words.

May smiles at me with a hint of sympathy.

"Yes, I have met Diego. He's wonderful."

"Oh," I smile back, faking it. I see Shannon's right eye squint before she turns her attention to Sadie.

In one big gulp, I finish my beer and put the empty glass back onto the table loudly. Hopefully loud enough to clear up whatever is suddenly looming above our table.

"Excuse me, I'm going to get another one," I say quickly as I grab the empty glass and head to the bar. Sadie shyly glances at me, but she doesn't move from her seat.

"Everything okay?" The bartender asks, only needing one look at me to see something is wrong. She rinses my glass out and pauses, waiting for my answer.

I'm sure she's heard a lot worse than what I'm about to say. Being the bartender for this place is like living under the alias "town counselor for local drunks."

I twist my head to see my table behind me. All three seem to be having another lively conversation, perhaps about the same thing as before or maybe something entirely different.