She drove down the same street for
the third time: The restaurant has got to
be down here, I know I’m on the right street and the last turn to get here is a
right! Or was it supposed to be a
left? I don’t remember – no, it
definitely was a right, has to be. Has
to be…. Then where is it?!
She finally spotted a minimally lit
building and parking lot that looked restaurant-ish, so she swerved the car
onto the grass to park since zero spots were left. She barely took in the exterior as she ran
the quarter-mile to the entrance: A bit of
a dive for a book club dinner, but who am I to judge? She passed a stumbling drunken couple on
their way out, noted the time was 7:40 p.m. – 10 minutes late! – and ran into the dark interior where 57 other
people were milling around. She elbowed
her way to the Host’s podium and almost collapsed onto it.
“Hi!” The Host had no reason to be cheerful in the
midst of this rabble. “Like to put your
name on the list?” The list on the
podium was 20 pages long.
“No,” she gasped, “I’m meeting
people here – ” She strained over The Host’s head to scan the room; the
lighting was equally minimal inside so that everyone appeared faceless,
creeping her out and annoying her simultaneously.
She finally spotted familiar-looking
backs-of-heads: “I see them – thanks!”
She elbowed her way through the dining room and fully collapsed
onto the chair at the end of her target table.
“Whew! Sorry I’m late, guys –
keep talking, I’ll just look at the menu.”
She grabbed one and scanned the drink list first.
The other three women looked at her
for a moment, then resumed their conversation: “So I was saying, that was the
last time we spoke since he didn’t answer my calls and the other day I heard he
moved back in with his mother.”
“Yeah, dump his sorry rear end,”
she said without looking up from the menu; a Server came to the table and she
continued: “Yes, could I have an extra-large margarita, the sliders and quesadillas
to start, the double taco bowl for the entrée, and the cinnamon fried dough for
dessert? You can bring them all out at
once, thanks.”
“We’ll start with the drink.” The Server took the menu and left.
The conversation went on: “Are you
still living in the house you guys shared?”
“No, I burned it down already.”
“Ahahahaha,
that’s hilarious!” She cackled as her
drink arrived; she slurped it noisily. “I
know I shouldn’t on an empty stomach, but that’s what chips are for,
am-I-right?”
“…So, did
you collect the insurance on that yet?”
“No, I have
to wait until the investigator gets back to me on whether she’ll take the
bribe.”
“And if she
doesn’t?”
“Then she
goes bye-bye and I bribe the next one they send.”
“You guys
are killing me!” She was really feeling
the margarita now. “What part of the
book are you talking about; I can’t remember.
You know what, I think I forgot to finish it, hm.”
“What book?”
“Haw-haw. Was it when the airplane almost crashed? Or when the uncle turned out to be one of the
bad guys, but not the bad guy?
Ooh, ooh, was it when the money was eaten by the pig?” She slapped the table. “I totally thought, when that happened, ‘Serves
that d-bag right’; what’d you all think, eh?”
The other
three’s silhouettes stared at her. “What
are you talking about?”
She
froze. “Oh no, oh no, don’t tell me I
read the wrong book again? It took
forever to get it from the library!”
“Why do you
keep talking about a book? What
do you think we’re meeting here for tonight?”
“…To talk
about the book?”
“The agenda
we sent you clearly stated that we would be discussing the destruction of our
celestial overlords, immediately after recounting personal revenge sagas.”
“Huh?”
“If you insist on not paying
attention, we seriously need to consider expelling you from the group. And possibly into space.”
She fumbled in her bag until she found
her mini-flashlight and shone it on the other three’s faces. All four screamed.
They were her friends’ faces, if
someone had smushed a mirror on them – that was the only way her mildly
intoxicated mind could describe it. She
swung the light around the room and saw the other diners’ and employees’ faces
had that same smushed-mirror look to them, and she had the sinking feeling that
she had wandered into a real-life sci-fi show.
She calmly switched off the
flashlight, dumped it back into her bag, left money on the table for her drink,
and stood.
“Ladies,” she said, then ran
elbows-first back through the crowd, out the door, and through the parking lot
before diving into her car.
She swerved onto the street and
drove back the way she had arrived. A
minute later, she saw the restaurant she originally had been searching for,
clear as day: Huh, it was a left after
all; fancy that. She carefully
parked in the well-lit lot and strolled into the place as if she were not half
an hour late. She spotted her friends
immediately and sauntered over to sit at their table.
“There you are! We were getting worried.”
“No need,” she said as she grabbed
a familiar-looking menu. “Just took a slight
detour on the way here.”
“Well, you just missed all the
excitement: we first thought you’d gotten here about 10 minutes ago when some
woman who sort of looked like you came flying over here in a tizzy, babbling
about some overlords discovering our plans and how we’re all doomed, but when
she saw us up close she suddenly froze and then bolted out the door. We thought you were losing it, but now here
you are, all normal!”
“Yes. All normal.”
