Chapter 11 #2
My steps were a little lighter and already my mood had lifted when I started walking again, heading to my favorite sports bar. No, I couldn’t drink, but I could talk and laugh, and right now, that was what I needed more than anything else. To feel like I wasn’t alone.
The interior was dimly lit, the lights low and the dark walls and floors making it seem like the room was cloaked in shadows.
Even so, it was welcoming because I recognized most of the people at the bar and several at the tables.
I waved to people whose names I didn’t know, called hello to the patrons I was acquainted with, and smiled at the daytime bartender as I slid into one of the only empty seats.
“Hey,” Stormy said, returning my smile as she finished filling a pint glass with one of the beers on tap. “Wine?”
I loved coming here because, as a regular, the staff usually just brought me a drink, but appreciated that Stormy had taken the time to ask. It saved me from having an awkward conversation.
“Actually,” I said, my voice low as I leaned closer, “I think I’ll do a club soda and lime.”
I held her gaze after I said it, waiting for a reaction or possibly even questions, but to my relief, she barely blinked. She did glance at my wrist, and there was a slight twist of her lips, but after she’d taken in my wristband, all she did was nod.
“Got it.”
I exhaled when I sat back, relieved but also surprised that she’d understood without me having to say anything.
I came here a lot, lived just over the bar, but it hadn’t occurred to me that Stormy would know about the wristbands.
It made sense, though. She worked in customer service and had probably come across this situation more than once, whereas I didn’t work with people directly – most graphic design stuff was done online – and had never taken the time to think about what happened once a woman was enrolled in the program.
I should have, to prepare myself if nothing else, but in truth, I hadn’t wanted to face it.
Stormy served a few other people who’d arrived before me before making my drink, and her face was still expressionless when she set it in front of me, but not her eyes.
They held mine, the gray depths serious and her hand still on the glass, telling me she wanted to say something but was asking permission.
I gave a slight nod.
“I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through,” she began in a low voice, “but I’m sorry, anyway. I’m not one of you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t empathize. You should have a choice. Everyone should.”
Against my will, I teared up and had to look away. Damn my emotions. They were all over the place already, and I couldn’t imagine how it would be if I did get pregnant. I was going to be a snotty mess.
Still not looking at her, I swallowed my tears and said, “Thank you.”
She released the glass, which I saw out of the corner of my eye, but just as I grabbed it, reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Her hand slipped away, and she was gone before I could respond.
I sipped the drink as I looked around, smiling at the older man at the end of the bar who I recognized but whose name I didn’t know, then busied myself with my phone.
I had no desire to be alone, but still wanted to buy myself time before starting up a conversation.
Just in case someone had noticed the interaction between Stormy and me.
Without the aid of alcohol, it took longer than usual to loosen up, but I was finally relaxed when a guy in his thirties with a bushy beard slid into the seat beside me.
“Miller Lite?” Stormy asked when he caught her eye.
“You know it.”
She smiled then returned to making the cocktail she’d been mixing when he arrived.
“I don’t know how she keeps track of what everyone drinks,” I said, leaning closer to the guy.
I’d seen him before, more than once, but had never spoken to him.
Honestly, I tended to avoid striking up conversations with men since it was impossible to predict how they would take my friendliness.
Too many times a simple discussion was misinterpreted – even by men much older than me – and while most men were able to shrug off my rejection, I’d been called a tease on more than one occasion.
Which was insane. A conversation didn’t equal an offer for sex.
“She’s good like that,” the guy said, giving me a friendly smile.
Thankfully, he switched his focus to his phone once Stormy had delivered his drink.
I did the same, scrolling through social media, clicking on friends’ posts and articles they’d shared.
Most earned little more than a passing glance, but a couple caught my attention enough that I actually clicked on them.
Like the petition a high school friend had shared, which was asking the government to repeal The Fertility Act.
It was ridiculous, the powers that be didn’t care about a petition, but I still clicked on it.
Over two million signatures. A lot, but also not a lot considering the population was still over one hundred million.
The second post that caught my eye was an article about a virus that had popped up in Europe. It was new, but already it had been detected in five countries and a total of fifteen hospitals. The next pandemic? was the headline, which seemed both premature and alarmist.
“I heard about that,” the bearded guy next to me said, nodding to my phone.
“We don’t know anything yet,” I told him, shutting the article and setting my phone face down. “It could be nothing.”
He gave me a doubtful look as he took a swig of his beer. “If you say so.”
Not interested in discussing the possibility of yet another pandemic, I shifted my attention to Stormy. “Your guy playing anywhere this weekend?”
“The Rooftop,” she said, waving in the direction of the other bar as if it were visible.
“Nice. Maybe I’ll stop by.”
“It’s going to be busy.”
Good. I needed a crowd if I was going to forget my sorrows.
After finishing my drink and gesturing for Stormy to make me another, I ordered a side of teezers – delicious fried, cheesy jalapeno bites – and once again tried to strike up a conversation with the guy next to me.
After a few false starts, we managed to find common ground by discussing the latest Netflix sensation, which was a post-apocalyptic show about a group trying to start over after an EMP.
It was good, with lots of character development, action, and even some steamy scenes, and held my attention better than anything I’d seen recently.
Something I told him, which inevitably led us to discuss our all-time favorite shows.
It wasn’t the least bit surprising to discover that he liked the old classic, The Office, as much as I did.
“It reminds me of a simpler time,” he said, then took a big swig of his beer.
I snorted, then covered my mouth since I was finishing up a bite of teezer, and replied, “You mean a time before pandemics were normal?”
His grin was infectious – much like the viruses that popped up every few years. “I mean a time when a company could have a boss that was inept and still somehow not go out of business.”
I threw my head back, a boisterous laugh bursting out of me that shook not just my body, but the bar stool I was sitting on as well.
Which was the only reason I didn’t notice Trevor approach.
I squealed when he wrapped his arms around me, my heart leaping to my throat then settling when I glanced back and met his eyes.
I slapped him on the shoulder but barely made contact thanks to the awkward angle. “You scared the shit out of me!”
He grinned as he released me and slipped into the empty barstool on my left. “You’re in a good mood.”
I lifted my club soda and winked. “Just letting loose.”
“For a change,” he replied with a roll of his eyes, but he was still smiling. When he caught Stormy’s eye, he called, “Warped Wing Gamma Bomb,” naming his favorite local beer.
It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Like I didn’t know that.”
He chuckled before turning his focus on me, and when he spoke again, his voice was low. “I take it the appointment was better than expected?”
“Nope,” I replied then took a big swig of my drink like it actually was alcohol. “I just decided I wasn’t going to let this thing dictate my life. It’s something I have to get through. That’s it.”
Stormy put Trevor’s drink in front of him, and he promptly lifted it and clinked the glass against mine. “Cheers to that. And not because I think it shouldn’t bother you, but because I want to see you happy. You deserve that.”
Not for the first time today, I teared up, but hid it by looking away and taking another drink.
The guy I’d been talking to had moved on at Trevor’s appearance, which I was grateful for. I’d had a good time talking to him, but I really hadn’t wanted to have to explain that it had just been a conversation and not an invitation for something more.
Stormy brought me another drink, then Trevor and I ordered dinner.
We talked and laughed a lot, yelled down the bar to other patrons, and before long, I was having such a good time I actually forgot about the appointment and the wristband and the fact that in just a week, I could be pregnant with a baby I didn’t want and wouldn’t keep.
Around six, Stormy popped up behind me and wrapped me in an in impromptu hug. With her lips close to my ear, she said, “Let me know if you need anything. Seriously. Okay?”
“Thanks,” I said, once again succumbing to my emotions.