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6
Nina sippedher vodka martini from the bar and surveyed the Friday night crowd. The interior of Whistler could have been traded for any number of other Brooklyn bars and no one would have been thewiser.
Brick wall?Check.
Chalk board menu?Check.
Crowd full of plaid-clad hipsters sporting body piercings and tattoos?Check.
She made the observation without judgement. The older she got, the more she wondered why everyone spent so much time judging each other. What was the point? Psychologists would probably say that focusing on the perceived shortcomings of other people made one less inclined to think about one’s own shortcomings. Maybe it was true, but no one could argue it made the judge anyhappier.
Lately Nina preferred the mellow vibe of judgement-free observation. Everyone was having fun, drinking, talking, laughing, the music just loud enough to make limiting conversation preferable to talking overit.
She let her gaze pass over the crowd, taking it in, following the curve of the iron staircase that led to the second floor mezzanine where smaller groups leaned over a handful of tables, valiantly trying to carry on a conversation. She and Karen had decided to make it a low-key night. They’d had dinner at El Kucho and had agreed to a quick drink at Whistler before heading to their respective apartments, and while Nina knew Karen preferred Manhattan to Brooklyn, she was relieved she wouldn’t have to make the trip back to her apartment from the city. Besides, it was Karen’s turn. They’d gone out for drinks in Chelsea last time everyone else had been busy and they’d met up for a quiet nightout.
“I don’t understand why more women don’t use the men’s restroom,” Karen said, sliding back onto her stool. “There’s never a line. Better yet, just make them allunisex.”
Nina turned to her. “So you can watch a bunch of guys shake their penises over aurinal?”
“Fuck urinals. Give everyone a stall and call it a day,” Karen said. “Aren’t we past the point of having to separate the sexes for something as basic as using the bathroom? I couldn’t care less if someone hears mepee.”
“You may be alone in that,” Nina said. “Or at least in theminority.”
Karen sighed. “I’m just saying, there’s always a line for the women’s bathroom. Always. It’s an easily solvable problem, and there aren’t too many of those left in theworld.”
Nina raised her martini glass. “To easily solvableproblems.”
Karen touched her glass to Nina’s and took a long drink of her Manhattan. “Speaking of easily solvable problems, any word fromLiam?”
“No,” Nina said. “And that is not an easily solvable problem. It’s not even aproblem.”
Karen grinned. “Which is it — a problem that’s not easily solvable or an un-problem? Because you’re contradictingyourself.”
Nina laughed and shook her head. “Why are you interrogating me? You’re the one who gave me shit for thinking about Liam after I looked him uponline.”
“I apologized,” Karen said. “And that was when you were withJack.”
“I know, and you wereright.”
“Not necessarily, but even if I was, things are different now,” Karensaid.
“Not that different,” Ninasaid.
“How do you figure?” Karen asked. “You’re not seeing Jack anymore. You’re not seeing anyone. And Liam is back, seemingly sans blond from theinternet.”
“Is that what this is about?” Nina asked. “The fact that I’m not datinganyone?”
“More like the fact that you haven’t dated anyone — not one single person — since Jack,” Karensaid.
Nina tamped down her annoyance with a long slug of martini. “So?”
“So you’re out in all kinds of weather taking pictures of little kids because you admire their joie de vivre but you’re afraid to take a chanceyourself.”
Nina tried to ignore the voice inside that said the comment stung because it was true. “Who says I’m afraid? Maybe I’m just happy with everything as itis.”
“Happy orcontent?”
“What’s the difference?” Ninaasked.
