ELIZABETH
L ike this music is playing just for us, Gwen and I strut into Digby’s bar with its uneven jutting-stone walls, scarred wood tables and the kind of lighting that would make you take someone home you’d regret in the unforgiving light of dawn.
I whisper to her, “I haven’t worn this dress in over a year. I look okay?”
“I’d fuck you.” She glances down to her party outfit which is both tight and professional. “I rarely have a chance to wear clothes that aren’t hidden. This is classy, right? Skirts not too short? Or even better…just short enough?”
“You want me to return the compliment.”
“Yes! Please promise the married chick she’s still got it.”
“If I were into women, you’d have to watch out!”
Her eyebrows go up on a smile. “Thank you!”
Searching for an open table or even some uninhabited counter-space to claim, I spot a lot of people I work with directly and indirectly. While tipping my head up as a polite, distant greeting to the ones who make eye contact, I ask my partner in crime, “Don’t you and David go out pretty regularly?”
“We prefer to stay inside. That’s one of the reasons we get along so well—both homebodies.” Rising on her heels she points left. “There’s one!”
Behind a group of people I don’t recognize there’s a sliver of a hiding table peeking through.
“Is that empty? Are we really that lucky?”
She smirks, “Let’s find out.”
As we pass the bar, I call over, “Hi Eddie!” to the Irish bartender who has manned those kegs for nearly thirty years.
“Hey Liz, lookin’ good!”
Shaking my head on a grin, I touch the shoulders of a few friends while I follow Gwen.
This is a special night for me. I want to spend time with only her. The rest of the year I’m with Atlanta’s staff. It’s like a marriage. Everyone needs friends outside of that type of constant contact. I get to be a different side of myself, give this part of me a little exercise so it doesn’t atrophy.
And I like who I am with Gwen. She always makes me feel great. Especially since she needs nothing from me except good company. We’re peers with no motives outside of having fun.
As we’re strolling through, we attract a bit of attention. People are surprised to see me like this, and with my hair curled, too.
“You’re right. That coat we wear isn’t the type of uniform that’s flattering.”
Gwen nods over her shoulder to me, and faces forward to survey our gem. “Well, look what we have here! We really are that lucky!” She transfers abandoned, craft beer bottles to a slender shelf that lines the wall for employees to pick up when they have time. “Let’s hope they’ve not just gone for a smoke and will return soon to uproot us. There will be a fight.”
“They’d have put a napkin over them. I saw gum floating in one.” Walking around the high-top table I hold it up to show her the bobbing glob as evidence nobody wants this warm bottle.
Gwendolyn perks up. “Free and clear!” Rising on her toes, she looks around. “What’s the deal with this place? Is there a waitress, or do we have to go to the bar?”
“They have both male and female cocktail servers.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I stand politically corrected.”
Laughing, I cover my face in mock-shame. “I said that out of programming, sorry.” Dropping my hand I roll my eyes. “It’s all such a pain in the ass though.”
She agrees, “The eggshells we have to navigate in today’s society. It’s gone too far. People are way too fucking sensitive. Not you. I’m not referring to you.”
“I know what you meant.”
“See?! I immediately felt like I had to clarify.” Gwen sits on the wood stool, laying down her purse and crossing her legs. From where I’m perched, I do the same and listen to her say, “Half of my job is avoiding litigation, when all I want to do is help women birth healthy children.”
I produce a lipstick and my compact, reapplying since I tend to bite my lips. “If I didn’t have to fill out half the paperwork we do, or worry about how we could get sued, I’d get a lot more done.”
“And people would pay less for healthcare. Not that bottom feeders care about other people.”
Clapping the compact shut I slide it in my purse. “Of course patients have to be able to protect their rights. And doctors should be accountable. Everyone in a power position must be. Only it’s a shame when the greedy harm the not, just because they see a way to make a quick buck. Then the people who have a real case to bring into court have to deal with people not believing them at first. It’s a vicious circle.”
She sighs, “There will always be scammers who ruin it for the rest.”
“The only solution, in my opinion, is to stand up against them when you catch them in the act.”
Gwen’s phone lights up and she checks it as she asks me, “How so? I’m going to put this away so we don’t get interrupted again.”
“Thank you. If you know someone is scamming or working the system, you have to speak up. Tell them it hurts everyone because the trickle-down of any negative action is a negative reaction that usually affects many more than just the one.”
“You’re asking for courage,” she smiles.
“Do we not see our fair share in our line of work?”
“I do—in every mother who gives a child its first breath.”
“And what if every one of those children was taught to stand up for what’s right, and they did it en masse?”
“Or just the majority. I’d settle for that.”
A server breaks through the crowd, his voice urgent. “You guys want something to drink?”
I finish my response, “It’s the majority already. I want a greater majority. I want people sticking their necks out and shutting the bastards down,” before turning to the guy. “Yes, we need a drink.”
She hands him her card. “I’ll have a
