Personal Hell
�Jeez, you guys are awfully dressed up for eating wings at Barb Buffalo�s BBQ.� Nell glanced down at her green corduroys and black peasant blouse. �I look like a dork.� She looked back up at the other three. One tall blue-eyed blonde in a chili pepper red dress and matching sandals, one brown-eyed brunette with knee-high black boots, a black skirt that stopped just above her knees, and a poison green lime backless tank top. And the third, almost casual in his khakis and a pale green button down shirt, open all the way down, and blindingly white tee shirt.
�We just felt like dressing up.� Sylvie responded. Nell remembered when they�d roomed together in college. Sylvie�d been known to wear dresses to class �just because.� Obviously her friend Ivy was another �random dresser upper.� At least Oliver was semi-casual.
�You look fine. Thanks again for driving tonight, best friend. I would have driven, but I need to clean my car out and get gas, and it would have taken forever.� Sylvie brushed a kiss against Nell�s cheek as they clambered into the car. Sylvie started groping for her cell phone as soon as her seatbelt clicked into place.
�Gotta call Jasmine and Jacob, tell them to meet us at Stuffed Buff�s.� Sylvie referred to the restaurant by the local nickname. The owner, Barbara Buffalo, had legally changed both her name and her cup size after her divorce.
Nell tuned out most of the resulting one-sided conversation, only rejoining the audience when Sylvie signed off. Oliver idly traced designs on the frosted window, chatting desultorily to Ivy.
�They don�t want to meet us at Stuffed Buff�s because--� Sylvie�s voice became mocking, �it�s not �that great a place to drink.� So I told them we�d meet them at Spider�s after dinner.�
Nell flinched at the thought. So did the car. She quickly corrected. �Sorry. And excuse me, but I�m the one driving. You might have at least asked first.�
�I knew you wouldn�t mind. You don�t, right?� Sylvie nattered on without waiting for an answer. �So, I went into Starbucks� this morning��
Nell stepped right into the middle of her sentence. �I really don�t want to go to the bar again! We were just there last weekend. Tonight, you said, was going to be a quiet night out. Dinner, you said. Now we�re going to the bar just because Stuff n Buff doesn�t offer enough booze to keep Jaz and Jacob happy?� Nell shook her head.
�What�s the big deal? We�ll have a quick drink or two, and be in and out before you know it. You�ll be in bed by eleven. I don�t want to stay out that late either.� Sylvie reassured her best friend.
�Hey, my bed is always open to the occasional visitor,� Oliver piped up, and was promptly ignored by the girls.
�But��
�Nell,� Ivy pointed out gently, �Doesn�t it seem silly to balk at this now? We�re already pulling into the restaurant lot, and the bar is only a few minutes away. Do you really want to make us go all the way back to Sylvie�s apartment, pick up her car, and then drive all the way back here just because you don�t want to spend an hour at the bar?�
�It takes twenty minutes to get from Sylvie�s apartment to the bar. Round trip. Last time I checked, that wasn�t �all the way� anywhere.� Silence greeted Nell�s comment. When faced with Ivy�s logic, it did seem sort of selfish. �I just wish you�d checked with me first,� she grumbled.
�We can discuss it more over dinner.� Sylvie said. She glanced in the rearview mirror and winked at Ivy and Oliver. All three smiled.
�I can�t believe you guilt-tripped me into driving. Again. I�m taking the first parking spot I see. I don�t care if you have to walk halfway from Hades.� Nell crept along slowly. �This is unreal. Where do all these people come from?�
�Just turn around and go park in the municipal lot across the street.� Sylvie suggested.
�Oh? You don�t want me to park in this wonderful spot I found two doors down from the bar?� Nell laughed and neatly pulled her little red Focus into line.
�All right, Nell!� They cheered.
�I�m leaving my coat in the car. Anyone else?� Ivy pulled off her caramel-colored coat and tossed it into the back seat.
�I don�t know, Ivy, it looks so fabulous with that red dress of yours.� Sylvie snickered.
�It�s not my fault my black one is at the cleaners. Someone�� Oliver yelped as she poked him �--spilled wine on it last night.�
�I said I was sorry. It was only Zinfandel. How was I to know cashmere stained so easily?� Oliver rubbed his side where the blow had landed.
Sylvie tossed her black leather jacket on top of Ivy�s coat. The others followed suit, the girls raiding their purses for ID and cash before locking them in the trunk. Nell went one step further and disengaged her car key from her ring, sliding it into the pocket of her pants. She had to push a bit to get it to fit.
�Looks like I�m exceeding the weight limit of my pants again. Hope I can get this key out again when the time comes.�
�I�ll be more than willing to assist you with any pants issues you might encounter this, or any other, evening.� Oliver smart-mouthed.
�Oh, shut up, or we�ll make you walk home.� Ivy laughed.
They hurried down the street, shivering and chattering animatedly
�I�m freeing my ass off over here.� Nell�s teeth chattered.
�Says the only one of us with long sleeves and pants.� Ivy shot back. Nell was amused to notice Ivy and Sylvie were covered with goose bumps and shaking so hard they could barely walk. Up ahead they could see a line forming to get into the bar, women in slinky dresses and men trying to look cool in chinos and button down shirts.
�Why didn�t I insist on going back to my apartment and changing? I�m going to look like a fool with what I�ve got on.� Nell wailed.
�I told you, you look fine.� Sylvie said impatiently.
�Don�t worry if no one hits on you.� Ivy added.
�Ugh. Being a drunk man�s last resort. No thank you. I�d rather kiss a moose.� She shuddered theatrically.
�Chicken. Who knows? You might get a boyfriend out of it.� Sylvie clucked and flapped her arms.
�Yes, but do I want a boyfriend who�s the kind of guy who picks up random girls in bars?�
�You�re impossible. You�re�stopping. Why are you stopping?� The other three turned back to see Nell, her nose practically pressed up against the warmly lit window she was examining. Molly�s Fine Teas and Cakes the baby blue sign above the doorway proclaimed.
�Some day, I am going to go into this tea shop.�
�Yeah, well it�s not going to be today. Besides, you say that every time we come to Spider�s and you never do.� Sylvie dismissed Nell�s comment and continued walking.
�That�s because you never want to come in with me. What fun is going by myself?�
�Come on, we�re freezing our butts off waiting for you.�
�Interesting that you only complain about the cold when you�re doing something you don�t want to do.�
They hurried on, pretending they didn�t hear.
�ID?� The bouncer, a cheerful red haired giant in tee shirt and black pants, held out his hand to each of them in turn. He looked at the pictures, at the owners, and then passed the cards over his scanner.
�Okay, you can go on through.� He waved them along with one hand, the other already out to intercept the next customer.
�Jeez. Do I look like I�m under 21? Hell no.� Sylvie carped as they wound their way through the masses.
�Sylvie, most twenty-eight-year-olds would be thrilled to be carded.� Nell pointed out.
�Damn waste of time. It�s an insult. I need a drink.�
�Well, we�re certainly in the right place for that.� Oliver grinned. They threaded their way through the crowds, stumbling over God-knew-what in the perpetual twilight bar owners seemed to delight in. A raucous burst of electronic noise suddenly pierced the din.
�My phone!� Sylvie yelped, digging at her hip before she remembered she was pocket less. A brief attack on Oliver�s pockets�much to his enjoyment�and she was pressing the phone against her ear, yelling to be heard.
�What? Okay, okay, no, that�s fine. Sure, not a problem. Okay, bye!� She hung up and returned the phone to Oliver�s possession. �Jasmine and Jacob changed their minds. They opted to rent a movie instead. Let�s get a quick drink and then we can get out of here.� Nell breathed a silent sigh of relief.
While the others crowded around the bar, eager to begin their drinking, she gazed unseeing over the sea of faces and tried to look like she belonged there. She shifted her feet, put her hands in her pockets, took them out, crossed her arms, then decided that didn�t look right either. She settled for hanging them loosely by her sides. The way the strobes were flashing, she could swear they were a series of spotlights, setting her off, drawing attention to her. Look! Over here! This woman is out of place! Look! See? She doesn�t belong! She stood with one foot pointed out more than the other, noticed no one else was standing that way, and reversed direction. No one was standing that way either. She balanced her weight equally on both feet. Now she looked like an undercover cop. No matter how carefully she dressed, she never really blended in. She didn�t even have anything to lean against. Oliver, Ivy, and Sylvie were lined along the wall, leaving her hung out to dry in blank space as people passed and re-passed, getting fresh drinks and returning the empties. She hated having her back to a crowd.
Sylvie and Ivy matched the atmosphere effortlessly, drinks in hand, the epitome of the bar scene. Nell�s hair was always just a bit misbehaved, her outfit�even when she had ample warning in advance�always just a few degrees off, and her glasses? Forget about it. Glasses were the kiss of death. She gave up self-inspection for a survey of the building.
It was two stories, which promised that somewhere there was at least a railing she could rest her arms on and watch what was going on down below. There was no designated dance floor, but in the corner two men were dancing together�back to back and boogying like it was 1999 all over again, slopping beer over everyone within reach and howling like mad dogs. The onlookers cheered this impromptu entertainment with wolf whistles and an obligatory pelting with peanut shells.
The dozen or so flat-paneled television screens were turned to basketball, football, ESPN, and the news, respectively. No two screens showed the same channel. An enormous projection screen played music videos from the 80s and early 90s, the heavy metal bass and whiny singing enough to rattle anyone�s fillings, and probably shake the teeth out as well. It certainly made Nell�s head pound. Her throat was raspy from shouting to make herself heard. Every bar she�d ever been in had the same smell; cheap booze, overpowering perfume, sweat, and�until recently�smoke. At least she didn�t have to worry about smelling like a used ashtray for a week. She shifted her weight and sighed.
�Sylvie, I hate to be a killjoy, but do you think we can leave soon?�
�Leave?� She checked her watch. �It�s only midnight. Still early.�
�We�ve been here since 9:00! Wasn�t this supposed to be a quick stop, in and out before I knew it?�
�This is a quick stop. Have a drink. Talk for a while.�
�Three hours is not a quick stop for anyone. I don�t want a drink. And I�m talked out. These are all your friends. I don�t know anyone here.�
�Nonsense. Ivy and Oliver are the only ones here, and you know both of them.�
�I met them once for five minutes. Six months ago. I�m tired, and I�d like to leave soon.�
Sylvie shrugged and turned back to the others. Nell turned back to contemplating the bar.
�Nell. Drink?� Oliver held up his own bottle by way of furthering the inquiry. When she shook her head, he shrugged and made his way back to the bar. Sylvie broke off her conversation with Ivy long enough to frown in her direction before resuming her chatter. Loud enough to hear the sounds, not distinct enough to understand the words.
The bar was packed. The tables and chairs had all been spoken for when they�d first arrived. They staked out a spot in a busy corner and hovered. Three hours later and it still didn�t look like there was hope for a seat any time soon. Patrons were six-deep around the bar, elbowing each other and bellowing out orders to the overworked bartenders. Every few seconds, someone passing behind Nell pushed by, banging her elbow, shoulder, or ass with annoying regularity. It was, she thought, like being in her very own personal Hell.
She checked her watch again. Only fifteen minutes had passed. When the hell did the bars close around here, anyway? Sylvie noticed the movement and leaned closer.
�You still doing okay?�
�No, I�m not doing okay. I am bored out of my mind over here. See those beer steins over the bar? There are 73. Then I counted them again, by threes. There are roughly 148 dots on that square of ceiling tile, plus one suspicious brown stain I prefer not to think about.�
�Jeez, just watch some TV.�
�I would if I could hear what they were saying.�
�Listen to the music then. Ivy�s roommate�s coming to pick her up soon, and then we can leave.� Seeing Oliver return with a fresh round, Sylvie primped her hair and redirected her attention.
�Soon. Yeah, sure.� Nell muttered. On her other side, Ivy was busy conducting a conversation she seemed to have struck up with a perfect stranger. There was much laughter and waving of arms. Ivy�s wild gestures scored a direct hit on Nell�s soda just as she brought it to her lips.
�Hey, watch it Ivy!�
�Huh?� Ivy glanced over at the damage she�d done. Coke and broken glass were everywhere. A steady stream of the liquid dripped off Nell�s glasses and dribbled down her shirt. �Whoopsie. Sorry, Nell.� She returned to her new found friend.
�Hey, Sylvie. Sylvie!�
�What?�
�You see a lady�s room anywhere? I gotta get cleaned up.�
Sylvie laughed and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. �Downstairs by the D.J.�
�Right.� Nell made for the stairs, but soon was back.
�If you guys hurry, there�s an empty table over there.� She pointed, and took off again, swerving this way and that to avoid little couples and groups in various stages of inebriation. She nearly came to grief when a frat boy tried to balance a bottle of beer on his head and dance at the same time, but avoided being hit by both booze and bottle, and disappeared down the steps.
�Let�s grab the table.� Oliver tugged an unwilling Ivy away from her latest conquest and led the charge to the table.
�Whew! Sure feels good to get off my feet. These boots are killing me.� Sylvie wiggled her toes appreciatively.
Hey, hey, you, you! I don�t like your girlfriend! Avril Lavigne burst onto the projection screen in all her glory.
�Oh, I love this video! She makes such a fool out of that goody-goody. Anyone that white bread deserves to have her boyfriend stolen.� Sylvie laughed and took a swig of her beer. Oliver glanced at the screen.
He nodded towards the dowdy girlfriend in her glasses and little pleated skirt. �Know who she reminds me of?�
�Who?�
�Nell!� All three burst out laughing.
�Now, Oliver, be nice. At least the girl in the video was hip enough to dye her hair pink! Nell�s is such a mousy brown. Heh. I guess that fits her though. She�s sort of mousy herself. Does she ever smile?� Ivy wanted to know.
�Not in bars. She hates the whole atmosphere.� Sylvie took a deep breath. �At least she can�t bitch about coming home smelling like smoke anymore. Thank God for small favors.�
Ivy brought her mouth closer to Sylvie�s ear and lowered her voice. �Seriously, why do you insist on bringing her along? I mean, it�s not like she�s the life of the party. The woman doesn�t smoke, she doesn�t drink, she doesn�t even dance. I admire your desire to include her in your fun, but what gives?�
Sylvie leaned toward her in a confidential manner. �I know, she�s a bit of a drag, isn�t she?�
Oliver snorted and took a sip of his beer. �A bit? She�s the original wet blanket.� Sylvie slapped his arm lightly.
�Hey! She�s still my friend. You want to know the real reason I invite Nell along?� Sylvie paused and glanced around. The other two did likewise. �She�s the perfect designated driver. Think about it. We can get as drunk as we want without having to worry about a sober ride home. It�s like having our own personal chauffer. And if I get drunk enough, I can almost pretend she�s not dragging the party down.�
�Don�t you think she suspects something? I mean, certainly she doesn�t think it�s all just a big coincidence that she�s always the one to drive us around.�
�I�ve got it covered. I just go like this a couple of times,� She turned to Ivy and wrapped her arm around the blonde�s waist. �Thank you for being such a great best friend, Nell. I love you. I really do.� Sylvie released her grip on Ivy�s hip and slugged back another gulp of beer. �She takes that as proof of our friendship and usually gives in pretty easily.�
�And she believes you?�
�Yup. It�s that simple.�
�She�s that simple, you mean.� Oliver raised his glass. �Here�s to Nell, the perfect permission slip for getting drunk.� The three laughed and touched glasses.
A fourth glass touched theirs. �And here�s to the three biggest goddamned fucking assholes I�ve ever come across in my life.� Nell smiled crookedly and dumped her fresh Coke in the middle of the table. Liquid ran everywhere, flowing off the table�s edges onto the trio�s laps to pool amongst the rest of the debris littering the floor.
�My skirt! You ruined my good skirt!� Sylvie shrieked and leapt to her feet.
�You�ll live.� Nell told her. Oliver was the only one who remained seated. He looked down at his damp lap and took another sip of beer.
�I could really use a smoke right about now,� he remarked.
�This must be my cue to get out while the getting�s good. I�ll wait for my ride outside. Sylvie, if you�ll take my coat and bag back to your place I�ll come by to get them later.� Ivy babbled, a big believer in discretion being the better part of valor. She nearly burned the air getting out of the line of fire.
�Grab your goddamned coats or call a taxi. Your permission slip�s been cancelled.� Without a single backwards glance, she strode to the door. The sudden commotion behind her told her they weren�t about to give up their free ride.
�Nell, I�m sorry! I didn�t know you were there!� Sylvie said once she was safely ensconced in the passenger seat.
�It doesn�t matter if I was within hearing distance or halfway across the planet! I can�t believe you! My so-called best friend. What a laugh. I�m such a fool. All these years, you�ve been using me as an excuse to get drunk. Hey, who cares if we�re shitfaced, good old reliable dull-as-dishwater Nell doesn�t drink. We�ll just make her our DD. If you don�t want me around, just say so. Or better yet, stop asking me to come with you.� Nell slammed the car into reverse and shot out of the stall, stomped on the brakes, and lurched forward. Oliver cleared his throat politely.
�Driving like a maniac is not going to help the situation, Nell.�
�Oliver, this is not the best time to critique my driving right now, unless you want to learn the effect being shoved out of a car at fifty miles an hour has on a human body.� Nell snarled. She did ease up on the gas pedal.
�All you have to do is say no. N-O. Not that hard. It would probably be better if you did. At least then I could have fun without having to constantly check to see if you�re okay.� Sylvie shot back.
�You�re so unbelievably selfish! You know how much I loathe the bar scene, but every Saturday you beg and whine and tease until I agree to go just to shut you up. How many times have you called me a goody two shoes? A boring fuddy-duddy? How many times have you said, �Come out to the fucking bar with us. Have a drink. It won�t kill you.�? You don�t take no for an answer.�
�Selfish?! You�re the one who�s selfish. We don�t always automatically assume you�ll be the designated driver. I�ve driven plenty of times.�
�Oh, bullshit. You say you�ll drive, that I won�t have to worry about a thing. Then the time comes and your car�s too messy. You don�t want to clean it out. You need to get gas and don�t have time.
�What a crock! You know damn well I�ve driven us to the bar on several occasions!� Sylvie flaired.
�Sure, you�ve driven us to the bar. How many times have you driven home? We get to the bar, and you �accidentally� have one too many. You say the drinks are stronger than you were expecting. That you�re too tired. That you didn�t eat enough to soak up the alcohol. You trap me into being the DD since I don�t fancy spending the rest of my life in jail or dead. You hand me your keys and gleefully continue your mission to get completely smashed.� Nell braked for a small furry something that shot across the road just ahead.
�At least we know how to have fun! We walk in the door, and five minutes later you�re checking your watch! You don�t drink, you won�t mingle with anyone; you barely speak to us. You spend the whole night leaning against the wall like a spineless lump!�
Oliver, who up until now was trying his best to imitate a bump on a log, finally spoke. �Girls��
�Shut up, Oliver.� The girls replied in unison. He went back to channeling his inner bump-ness.
�Well, excuse me if getting roaring drunk and dancing like an idiot is not my idea of a good time. We�re almost thirty, Sylvie. Aren�t you getting a little old for this shit? Weekly bar visits were all right in college, but it�s time you grew up. I�m through. Find someone else to exploit.�
Nell pulled up in front of Sylvie�s apartment and popped her trunk lid. Oliver and Sylvie looked at each other.
�Get out.� Nell turned and looked at the woman in the passenger seat. Then she shifted and caught the man�s eye in the rearview mirror. They got out, Sylvie gathering up her and Ivy�s things. Oliver walked around to the driver�s side window and bent down.
�Um, thanks for the ride.�
Nell drove off, leaving them behind in the rain. The wind blew the tiny drops against the side of her face. By the time she got home, both cheeks were streaming. Silently, she let herself into her apartment. She said hello to Willoughby, drank a glass of water, and sat on the couch for a while, thinking. Sylvie�s betrayal hurt, of course, but there was a tiny sense of freedom amidst the pain. �At the very least,� she told her hamster, �they won�t be expecting me to drive them around next Saturday.�
Nell pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out. She shivered, as she always did when the first shock of cool air hit her. The beautiful steamy heat never lasted long once the source was turned off. She toweled her hair until it stopped dripping water down her neck and regarded her closet. Short white skirt�clingy red top�black halter top�flip�flip�flip. The hangers rattled as she rejected one outfit after another. All these clothes Sylvie had helped her pick out. Too bad there wasn�t a thrift store specializing in plus size hooker outfits, Nell thought. She paused to hitch up her towel before it joined the other debris on the floor. Hm�way back in the corner. Was that�? It was! Nell pounced on her favorite pair of jeans�comfortable, not stylish, as Sylvie might say, eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly in passive disapproval. She dragged the jeans on over her bikinis (who could see panty lines through denim?) and yanked her ratty old yellow sweater over her head. It was warm. What else mattered in the middle of January? She unearthed her blue sneakers from beneath the bed, scooped her tote bag onto her shoulder, and headed out to the car.
Bring! Nell narrowly missed ramming her car against the curb as she swung into the parking slot. Cursing, she retrieved her phone from the darkest depths of her bag and snapped it open.
�Hello?�
�Nell! It�s Sylvie! Whatcha doin� tonight?� Nell shifted the car into park, unhappiness settling like a smooth round stone in her stomach. She swallowed twice to clear a sudden bad taste.
�Why?�
�Well, I feel badly about what happened. I�d like to make it up to you.�
�Oh yeah?� Nell locked up and started walking down the street. �What did you have in mind?�
There was a brief pause. �If you come out to the bar with us tonight��
�You�ve got to be kidding.�
�I�ll buy you a drink.� From Sylvie, this amounted to an offer of free access to her ATM card.
�You know I don�t drink.�
�I�ll buy you a pop.� There was a desperation that had been lacking only moments before.
A lightbulb flashed over Nell�s head. She could almost hear the ding. �You don�t want me to come out to the bar with you guys, you want me to come out to the bar and join you guys. You�re already at Spider�s, am I right?� Sure enough, Nell spotted Oliver�s dark blue Forester parked at the corner. She gave the car a wide berth lest she start imitating her favorite Carrie Underwood song.
�...took a Louisville Slugger to both headlights, slashed a hole in all four tires�� Nell hummed as she neared her destination.
�What? What are you talking about? Anyway, listen, Nell. We�re really in a bind. Oliver was supposed to be the designated driver tonight but the drinks are stronger than he was expecting and we could really use a ride.� The words tumbled out of Sylvie�s mouth, racing into Nell�s ear. Sylvie always spoke veryveryfast and veryveryhigh-pitched when she was desperate.
�No.�
Stunned silence. �Did you say �no?��
�That�s right. As in no, Sylvie. I won�t be your designated driver tonight.� Nell looked up at the sign over the door.
�But what are we supposed to do? None of us are sober enough to drive home. Nell, you�re our only chance!�
�I suggest you pool your cash�if you haven�t drunk it all yet�and call a cab. I have other plans tonight.� Click. The phone snapped shut on Sylvie�s wail of disbelief.
Nell turned the knob of the tea shop, and went in.
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