Happy Unbirthday

Of course, as it always should happen, that night I didn’t even want to drink. It was late, I had a stomachache, and the chosen bar was a fifteen minute walk away. But at midnight she would turn 21 and for that, we mobilized.

She gave the call a half hour after and we trundled down Sansom. At door check we pilfered through our respective purses and wallets and I, being the faster, handed him my ID first. Suddenly, it was over before it had even begun. Is this really happening? Is he really doing this? He’s doing it. He’s actually doing it. He did it. There. It’s done. And I was turned away, my now dispossessed ID in his hands, Caroline looking at me with an awkward, distressed look. I mean, we’re all adults here aren’t we? I gave a quiet “oh, okay” and walked away.

You always imagine yourself saying something really smart or doing something overly dramatic in those moments. Pummeling him with your purse, tapping him on the opposite shoulder, making a scene. Groveling. Grabbing and running. But as soon as it occurs, it’s already over. It happens about you and to you at the same time.