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“I can’t believe they’re allowed in here after all they’ve done,” Merrily grumbles under her breath. She still hasn’t forgiven them for their misdemeanors. But who could blame her? I know if I had a sandwich thrown at my face, I’d hold a grudge for life.
One of the women, Mrs. Kathy, points two fingers at her eyes and then points them at us. I’m tempted to give her avery different gesture with a finger but decide that some of us should keep it classy, and it’s apparently not going to be them. Sandwich thrower, Mrs. Linda, ignores us, which is for the best. We want to attempt to keep the peace tonight.
I sip on my Dr. Pepper, waiting for the games to start and halfway listening to the conversation around the table. I’m not sure when talk turned toward Josiah, but my ears instantly perk up at the mention of his name. For days I’ve been pondering what he suggested to me in my room on Sunday. It’s a good idea, finding a new hobby. It’ll certainly help me take my mind off all the life changes happening around me. I’ve managed to compile a small list of things to try, but I’m worried he’ll think they’re lame. That he’ll, by proxy, think that I’m lame. Ignore the fact that he has known me my entire twenty-six years of life—this list is what will finally solidify my lame status.
I think over my list, only three items long, and wonder what else I could add to it. I’m a simple person, so I need simple activities.
“If you were compiling a list of new things to try, what would you put on it?” I ask the group, completely changing the topic of conversation. All their heads turn to face me at once.
“Skydiving,” Valerie says because she’s adventurous and crazy—the complete opposite of me. I would never do something as daring as skydiving. I like my feet planted firmly on the ground…or at least where I can quickly and easily get them back on the ground if I so desire…without jumping out of a plane. I’ve never been an adrenaline junkie. I don’t see the enjoyment in risking my life for the thrill of it. I like nice, relaxing activities.
“No, thank you,” I say, laughing and waving a hand inValerie’s direction. She knows me well enough to know I would scoff at the recommendation.
“What is this for?” Jolene asks before popping a pickle in her mouth.
I quickly explain what Josiah and I have planned, and they all exchange glances with one another. I can’t decipher what the looks on their faces mean, but they’re all suddenly very eager to throw out ideas.
“Hot air ballooning,” Merrily says in a wistful voice. She’s got that moony look in her eyes that she always gets when she talks about her romance books, and I don’t have the patience to even think about why that is right now. I’m sure she has immediately concocted some fanciful notion that Josiah and I are going to become a thing, but that’s just ridiculous. I wonder if she’s been talking to Mom and Aunt Carly too much.
“He’s helping me find a new hobby, not taking me on elaborate dates, Merri,” I say, giving her some serious side-eye. She bristles at my harsh tone.
“It could still be really fun,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.
I show them the list of what I have so far so they can get an idea of the types of hobbies I want to try:
1. Learn to knit.
2. Learn to play piano.
3. Learn to cook.
“Don’t you already know how to cook?” Jolene asks, her eyes narrowed at me. I know how to make pasta with jarred sauce, grilled cheese, and scrambled eggs. I also make a very good baked potato, which takes almost no skill whatsoever. I wouldn’t exactly call that cooking, and I can’t live off that when I do eventually move out of my parents’ house. I’d liketo be able to cook as well as my mom someday. Everything she makes is delicious, and she doesn’t even have to use a recipe.
“Josiah’s not going to want to do any of that,” Valerie says, laughing at my pitiful list. “Can you imagine him holding knitting needles in those massive paws of his?” The entire table erupts in laughter. It does paint a very silly picture. I didn’t think about that when I was making the list. It is all very girly.
“What about rock climbing? There’s a gym not too far from here,” Merrily suggests. I think about it for a moment. It’s active, which would be good since I don’t get much exercise at the moment. And it’s not terrifying like skydiving or bungee jumping. They put you in those harnesses to keep you safe if you fall, right? Yeah, I think I could do rock climbing, and Josiah would probably like it a lot more than all my other options. He’s an active guy. He practically lives at the gym during his free time.
“I’ll add it to the list,” I say. I pull out my phone and type it into the list I started in my notes app. Well, now I have four things. That’s better than three.
The bingo announcer gets the crowd quiet, and the first round begins. Merrily makes a few sneaky intimidating gestures toward our table of enemies, and they make a few rude gestures back. This is ridiculous. Aren’t we girls supposed to stick together and cheer each other on? We’re girls’ girls. We should rally together to take down the men! There are tables of them surrounding us, and none of them are fighting and heckling each other. Sure, there’s a bit of smack talking, but it’s all in good fun for them. I will not be participating in this silly feud anymore. I will simply be focusing on myself from here on out.
It’s not a good night for anyone at our table. We don’t win a single round. The elderly villains across the room, however,sweep the floor with us. Linda won a new iPhone and gloated the whole way back to her table, waving the box around in the faces of everyone she passed. I’m green with envy. I’m in dire need of a new phone. My screen is shattered, and every time I swipe on the screen, tiny glass shards get embedded in my fingertips. My mom keeps harassing me about going to get it fixed, but I don’t have phone insurance. When they asked me if I wanted to buy it when I was getting the phone, I laughed and made a joke about phones getting the flu. It’s not funny anymore. I have so much regret. Mountains of regret.
The four of us walk out of the pub at the end of the night feeling very glum. It doesn’t help that we’re forced to listen to all the bragging happening a few feet behind us.
“Well, let us know how your first activity goes with Josiah,” Valerie says with a curious smile on her face. I don’t even want to know why she’s so invested in this.
7
Josiah
I already regret agreeing to let Jolene help me start social media accounts for my graphic design business. I thought I’d just upload some of my sample work and that would be the end of it. It’s not the end of it. Not even close. Jolene has an elaborate five-step plan in place, and it involves actually putting my face online. I don’t know how this happened. I’ve been so careful over the years to keep my face offline, and now she has me primping like a peacock so she can take pictures of me.
She put all kinds of smelly creams and gels in my hair, making me look like some kind of preppy punk, and then she swiped some tan-colored goop under my eyes to hide the dark circles. I can never let my buddy Caleb find out about this. He’d never let me hear the end of it.
This all seems unnecessary. Why do potential customers need to see my face? All they need to know is if I can do my job or not, and my samples will tell them what they need toknow in that regard. I’ll most likely never meet most of my clients since all my business is held through email, so what is the point of all this?
“They need to see your pretty face so they’ll know they can trust you,” she says as she fixes a stray hair hanging down in my eyes. I want to tell her that logic is tragically flawed. Ted Bundy was considered extremely attractive, but he was a serial killer. Twenty-eight women thought they could trust him just based off his pretty face, and look where that got them. Not that I’m comparing myself to Ted Bundy. My clients can trust me. It’s just…good grief.
