Jamie throws open the door and stares confused at the three faces staring back, Frankie, Mei-Lin and Vivian. “Oh, hi?”
"Well, Vivian has had quite a shock and since she’s obviously not driving tonight we figured we could at least help calm her nerves. Come on ladies let’s find a seat, might be hard given the popularity of this place!”, Frankie snorts and heads into a the velvet padded seating area set into the windows. “Double gin and tonic - the good stuff if you please with a slice of cucumber if you have it or lemon if you don’t. I’m guessing you don’t”.
Jamie follows them to the booth, her stomach turning with anxiety, it’s different serving people who know the truth about you. She isn’t sure where she fits with these three women, all who seem not just older but so much more grown up than her. “So it’s a little cold but the heatings on”, standing next to the corner booth her mind blanks for a moment, the award silence thickening, eventually gaining composure she continues, “Can I get you some drinks?”.
The yet quiet Vivian is fist to breach the award silence, “You know, I’m usually a fan of pinot but I see there’s already a bottle of open Vodka out on the bar, so i’ll go for a vodka martini,” Vivian holds silence for a second, her coral lip-sticked mouth in a pout and fore-head slightly creased and then says decisively “yes one of those please Jamie”.
The Swan reminds Vivian of her student days spent in bars around London, dusty velvet seating in the booths, worn wooden floorboards bleaching in the heavily used areas. The dusky mauve walls are separated by a dark stained daido rail, the top half plastered in mismatched frames. One wall is dotted with black and white photographs of The Swan’s owners in their hay day, the rest of are plastered with aged bar mirrors advertising the wares, ‘Captain Morgan Spiced Rum, For Better Tasting Rum Drinks’ complete with Captain Morgan himself, foot over a barrel in his red pirate garb and billowing black cape, and another ‘Miller High Life, The Champagne of Bottled Beer’ the image of a women perched side-saddle across a crescent moon, left hand raising a glass to the air, but Vivian’s favorite, a smaller mirror featuring an 18th century well attired female sipping from a small glass, her pinkie finger elegantly lifted, its overly bold lettering reading ‘Not Responsible For Women Left Overnight’. Well that certainly completed the picture here. Responsible. That’s all she had ever been.
Vivian looks at the clock, but she already knows that right now she should be singing Miles and Moses to sleep, Rose already tucked into bed after a day of enlightening toddler activities at her private pre-school. Imagining the chaos at home created by her absence she drank deeply from the glass Jamie had presented. Owen was already going to be pissed about the car, he might as well be pissed from a night of unexpected parenting too.
“Mei-Lin, water? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Gasps Frankie, “We’re at a bar, come on what’s your drink?” Mei-Lin’s starts to explain, her face blushing, “I don’t drink alcohol, I never had the taste for it. When I tried at college my whole face turned red and it was so embarrassing, I also get such a headache! We call it ‘Asian Glow’. “Well Mei-Lin your among friends here, no need to worry about your red face. Can’t get any redder than Vivian’s eyes right now anyway. And talking of a headache there’s pills for that! Here try this”, Frankie slides her drink to Mei-Lin and shouts to Jamie behind the bar “Jo could you make me another? Get one for yourself and come sit with us, no point tending an empty bar”. Vivian looks steadfast at Frankie, “You know Jo’s name is actually Jamie? And I don’t want to cause a scene, but if Mei-Lin says she doesn’t want to drink alcohol then she doesn’t have to, and if you haven’t noticed she’s the only one here who can actually drive!”. “Mei-Lin,” Frankie says matter of factly, “Is your ‘Asian Glow’ genetic?”. “It is actually, my mother has it too.” Mei-Lin replies, “Well then, let’s add that to the list of shitty things we can blame on your mother!”. Mei-Lin laughs, “Frankie, your so upfront! I would have never have put it that way, but I think you’re right! Vivian don’t worry, you’re really kind to speak up for me, it’s more than my mother ever did! Maybe it is time to try again? Jamie could I try a white wine spritzer, maybe more lemonade than wine?”. “Sure you can,” Jamie smiles back.
Jamie returns to the table sets down Mei-Lins drink and slides Frankies back, the clear liquid spilling from the generously poured glass tumbler as she does. Pulling up a black bar stool she joins them beer in hand. “Nice to have you with us Jamie”, Frankie says raising her glass in toast “Mother, she’s a bitch!” The women clink their glasses and repeat the toast “Mother, she’s a bitch!” Mei-Lin laughs again and takes a tentative sip, followed by a gulp of her spritzer. Jamie laughs at Mei-Lin and shakes her head. Here she is twenty one and surrounded by women old enough to be either her mother or older siblings. Well, at least she’s in a bar, that has to giver her some credulity, even if it is only because its her place of work. But she doesn’t mind. It had been a long time since she sat with anyone at an actual table. Behind the bar or alone in her room, she’d always been a bit of a loner.
She remembers times she used to try and make friends. Bringing girls over after school, trying to be cool. How The Mother would call her downstairs and insist she clean the family bathroom right that instant. Her friend Hannah sitting on the edge of the bath, watching her scrub the toilet bowl so clean it reflected her scarlet face. Every few years Hannah would bring it up, still incredulously laughing at The Mother’s demands.
The time her best friend Louise came down with a migraine and later overheard The Mother complaining about her being ‘a fat hypochondriac’. Or the time she had to give up a boyfriend because The Mother’s friend’s daughter was jealous.
Not forgetting the time The Mother furiously called her home from a beach party, the only time she had taken for herself that week to hang out with friends. Because Annabella didn’t like the ‘babysitter’ - their shared God Mother who had visited to help out while the parents were gone. Annabella had sneaked the phone to her bedroom and placed a long-distance call to Antigua where The Mother and David were luxuriously vacationing. The Mother had wasted no time to exasperatedly scream down the phone at Jamie’s selfishness and insist she return home. How could she possibly leave Annabella alone whilst she was having a hard time without her Mom and Dad?! Then another call from a disbelieving God Mother, explaining how Annabella had called The Mother because she hadn’t got her own way. Don’t rush home, stay out everything was ok - but Jamie knew she couldn’t. She always loved her God Mother and wondered why she’d never had children. She certainly would have done a better job of parenting.
Jamie was not sure if the vodka shots mixed with beer were taking rapid action or if she was releasing something that’s been pent up too long, but it felt good. Usually one to complain of the cold, her face felt warm, her shoulders relaxed as she leaned her elbows on the table and listened easily to the women’s chatter and laughter. She didn’t expect the night go like this. Vivian’s display of concern for Mei-Lin had absolved her of Jamies pre-conceived assumptions and Frankie finally knew, and used, her name. “Mother, she’s a bitch!” she repeats, enjoying the yeasty bubbles sliding down her throat.
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