Soylent Moon Fries
Kelly had been in Galena all week with Mark, but we had plans to meet up for trivia at O’Leary’s on Thursday night. For once I actually had something besides work to talk to her about. I had two guys who were serious about settling down (with me) and two upcoming first dates with those men. Kelly and I had been missing each other recently—I tried to call her while she was out for dinner with Mark’s family, and she tried to call me when I was busy with a patient—but tonight, we’d finally get to spend time together one-on-one, and things could get back to normal.
When I got to the bar at six o’clock, I sat facing the door at the table we’d sat at last time. Dax immediately brought me an old-fashioned.
“Thanks!” I grinned up at him as I took a sip. “Fantastic. Are you waiting tables again?”
“Nah,” he said. “But I didn’t want to make you get up and lose your spot.”
“Wow. Thank you,” I said, clearing the lump that had settled in my throat. “That was really nice of you.”
“Well, I expect a good tip. I saw you waving that twenty at Peter last week, and I don’t want to chance you giving your drink orders to him.” He winked, and heat tingled my spine. God, I was hard up for attention and affection, for anyone at all to acknowledge my existence—even this young guy, with the scruff and the tattoos. How pathetic could one person be?
“You know I always tip well.” My eyes dropped to my phone and a notification about an upcoming heat wave.
Dax retreated to the bar.
I opened up my text convo with Kelly, which stretched back years, since I bought my first iPhone. I normally deleted conversations, preferring to keep my digital footprint tidy and organized, but I saved every interaction with Kelly, my mom, and Yessi.
I texted Kelly and set my phone down.
I grabbed the answer sheets Ronald left on our table and wrote “Dorothy and Blanche” across the top of all ten. I’d come up with the name earlier today. I figured whenever Yessi could join us, we’d just add a “Sophia” to that. I chuckled to myself. She is such a Sophia.
I took another sip of my drink as my phone buzzed.
Grinning, I checked the message from Kelly.
I pressed my lips together and shoved my phone into my purse. I folded my hands in front of me on the table as my eyes started to water slightly. Dax came by and dropped off a plate of French fries.
“The cook made too many,” he said.
I gazed up at him and tried to force myself to smile. “Looks like you really are angling for a better tip.”
“Going for the record.” He paused. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said brightly, grabbing my drink and focusing all my attention on stirring that. “Doing great.”
A beat later, Dax said, “Okay,” and walked away, leaving me alone—the way I wanted it.
Hand shaking, I picked up one fry, dipped it in the house-made ketchup, and shoved it into my mouth. I barely tasted anything but the sharp tang of the sauce against my tongue. I chewed and chewed and chewed. Kelly was still in Galena. She knew we had concrete plans tonight, and she was still in Galena. She hadn’t even thought to text me earlier to let me know, because Kelly, my best friend in the whole entire world, had forgotten all about me.
My nose stuffed up, and I blinked and blinked, trying to focus on anything but Kelly. The weather. The grain of the wood on this table. Bozo’s Circus and the Grand Prize Game. I drew a cube on my answer sheet. Splat! A tear moistened the paper. I wiped another one away. With a wobbling hand, I drew the drink to my lips.
“Good evening!” Ronald bellowed from the stage.
I wiped my eyes and my nose, straightened up, and focused hard on the quiz master.
“Welcome to the last Thursday night trivia for a while,” he said. “Remember, starting in two weeks, O’Leary’s will be hosting the big citywide trivia tournament on Tuesdays. We hope you’ll join us for this very exciting event.”
Oh, yeah. The big tournament. I glanced up at the Very Stable Geniuses table, where the guys were giving each other high fives, ready to crush the Annie-free competition all across Chicago.
I took a big swig of my drink.
“Round one!” Ronald said as his assistant passed out the questions. “Geography. Get ready.”
Instinctively, I pulled the first answer sheet toward me, and I crossed out “and Blanche” at the top of the page. It’d just be Dorothy tonight. Blinking through tears, I read the questions and filled out the entire sheet in about two minutes. Then, with a pit in my gut, I gave my answer sheet to Ronald, avoiding his pitying eyes the whole time, and headed right to the bathroom, where I could use my phone. Ronald had threatened to disqualify anyone caught looking at a screen during the quiz.
I smiled as I passed a twentysomething woman in a cute purple dress, wondering how her night was going—if she could rest assured that her best friend was still her best friend. Just inside the door, I turned on my phone and opened my Kelly chat.
I read the words over and immediately deleted them. This wasn’t a conversation to have over text. Kelly and I would need to hash this out face-to-face when we were together again. If we were ever together again.
When I got back to my table, Ronald was already starting the second round—an oral literature round; not my best category. I scrambled into my seat, wiped my eyes, and readied my pen.
“In the New Testament, which book comes after the four gospels?”
“Crap.” I stared at the blank paper, thinking. Bible stuff was never my strong suit. Kelly was much better, since she was raised in an evangelical household and had to recite psalms, chapter and verse, in order to have dessert after dinner. My family was Catholic, not super devout, and we were considered Bible scholars if we knew the gospels were Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
“It’s Acts,” a voice above me said.
I glanced up as Dax slid into the chair across from me.
He pointed to the blank spot on my paper. “Acts of the Apostles. Write it down.”
“What are you doing?” I hissed, glancing up at Ronald, feeling like a high school kid who just got caught passing notes during a test. “This is cheating.”
“It’s not. I took the rest of the night off, and now I’m on your team.”
“Jeez, you’ll do anything for that tip.”
“Yes, I will.” He grabbed the pen and wrote “and the Tin Man” next to my “Dorothy.” “Now let’s win this thing.”
…
“You’re pretty darn good at trivia,” I said as Dax poured each of us a water behind the bar. I’d already reached my one-drink maximum, and, after last weekend, I would not be exceeding that anytime soon.
He set the glass in front of me. “Don’t act so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “I’m impressed.”
Our new little team, Dorothy and the Tin Man, performed pretty well for our first time out. We managed to come in close second to the Very Stable Geniuses.
Brad the Genius, speaking of, now sidled up next to me, like Nagini the snake approaching Harry Potter, making me choke on my water. “Hey there. You know, you two are going to be tough to beat in the citywide competition.” He held up two fingers. “Two beers, please.” He squinted at the menu above the bar. “Antiheroes,” he said to Dax.
“I’m off the clock.” Dax tossed his towel on the counter. “Peter will get those for you.” He tapped his fellow bartender on the shoulder and came around to the customers’ side of the bar.
“Seriously,” Brad said. “You guys are smart, and it makes me kind of hate you, honestly.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I glanced at Dax, who had taken the open barstool next to me and was checking a text on his phone. We did make a good team. And right now trivia was the one thing in my life that brought me any joy. Maybe we should team up and kick the rest of Chicago’s ass? “What do you say, Dax?” I asked.
Dax glanced up from his phone. His expression, usually bored and vaguely mocking, had turned worried. His brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“The trivia tournament. The big citywide thing on Tuesday nights,” I said. “Do you want to be teammates?”
His eyes flitted to the door. “Oh, no. I don’t want to do that.”
Right. Of course. I was nothing but a big-tipping old lady to him.
I sipped my water, trying to drown the disappointment in my stomach. “That’s fine. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it anyway. I’m not always free on Tuesday nights. I have”—I struggled to make something up—“a standing thing with my mom.”
No, I didn’t. If anything, if I showed up at her house on a Tuesday night, she’d shove me right back out the door. Tuesday nights were her Bunco nights with her friends, and I was not allowed to intrude.
“You can join our team,” Brad said.
“Thanks, Brad,” I said. “But if we teamed up, we’d ruin the tournament. We’d be too dominant.”
“You’re right about that.” Brad picked up his beers and headed back to his friends.
Dax and I sat in silence for a moment.
“You okay?” Now it was my turn to ask him that question. He kept acting fidgety and upset.
Dax looked down at me as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He looked at his phone again.
Annoyed, I pulled out my own phone. I’d always heard about women becoming invisible as they got older, though I never truly believed it would happen to me. I was tall and fit and looked younger than I was—or so I thought. But now here I was, abandoned by my best friend, being ignored by a twentysomething bartender. Choosing to pursue pure, unadulterated commitment with either Darius and Rob had been a smart, mature decision. As far as I could tell, no one else would ever look at me as a desirable being again. I kept thinking about that video with Tina Fey and Julia Louis-Dreyfus, about their “last fuckable day.”
I’d apparently reached mine.