May 22 2009
The People at the Next Booth
“I’ve said before,” Abby said, stirring her swizzle stick around in her drink out of habit, “I’m glad that you came down to visit but some of the things you’ve been talking about…”
“I know,” Hajime admitted, staring into the bowl of the virgin Margarita in the hopes the answers might come up from the icy green depths. They didn’t oblige. She let out a sigh.
“I want to believe you,” Abby said, “I just–”
“I know it’s crazy,” Hajime replied.
She looked up at Abby then. Abby could see how drained her best friend was. This wasn’t the normal new at college so many nights studying, cramming caffeine and information on little sleep sort of drained, this was soul-deep and it made Abby uncomfortable in a pit of her stomach she hadn’t even known existed.
“I don’t think it’s necessarily crazy–” Abby started, to be interrupted by a loud explosion from the booth behind them. This was the fourth time that night the preppy group of potential sorority people had disturbed them and Abby was at the end of her tether with it, doubly so because she would have much rather had this conversation at home but the presence of her boyfriend who was rapidly declining in her estimation towards douchebag meant that it wasn’t a good place to have a comforting conversation with your best friend who was being plagued by all sorts of weirdness while trying to study.
Abby turned round on the booth. She was resting her knees on the seat so that she was slightly higher than most of the drunken women. They didn’t notice her, so she banged on the top of the booth seat with her fork.
“Hi,” she said, waving the fork, “You guys don’t know me and there’s no reason you should except that I’m trying to talk with my friend over here and I can’t hear myself think over your hens just laid eggs cackling,” the metaphor was clearly lost on the girls in the booth.
“You don’t like it lady, you don’t have to sit there,” one said.
“You might have a point,” Abby said, “However I’m a bit confused as to why your sort who are so up on the waist lines and the looking good so much that you pop a fat burner pill every hour, are drinking gross quantities of a non-diet, high fat, high calorie beverage, are you planning to just barf it up later? Because seriously,” she pinched her stomach, “It’s going to pack on quick. This has been a public service announcement from the people in the next booth who really don’t want to ram the pitcher down your throat, but will if you don’t stop.”
She sat back down.
Hajime was stifling a laugh, “I love you, you know, but maybe we better move anyway?”
–Sanctity based writing exercise.
