It wasn’t until I was to the end of the bar, almost to the opening that separated this part of the bar from the pool table area, that the true nature of the situation dawned on me. I slowed, Gary’s shocked and frustrated chatter fading into the background.
The bar area had all but cleared out, only a few people lingering at the edges in booths or at tables, their eyes down and bodies hunched over their mostly empty glasses. Drinks littered the bar surface in various stages of fullness, abandoned by their owners. Even the two guys at the other end had walked away, leaving their beers behind.
So focused on Gary and the horror show of my first date, I had somehow missed the mass exodus.
Blinking in confusion, I resumed making my way out, leaving Austin to sort it out as Niamh had requested. I had a suspicion he wasn’t the only one who’d lay into the guy. Niamh would want her say, I had no doubt.
A crowd loitered in the pool room, watching the balls roll around the green felt. When I entered, most looked up, then quickly back down, as though some gunslinger had entered the saloon and they didn’t want no trouble.
“Sorry,” I muttered, knowing I was to blame for Austin’s second assertion of dominance in less than an hour.
“Hey…” The burly guy that had been sitting next to me shrugged his meaty shoulders, standing off to the side with his hands in his pockets. “If you got it, flaunt it.”
Those around him shifted from side to side and murmured their assent, heads bobbing.
If I got it…flaunt it?
I checked my boobs as I turned toward the bathroom. The cut of my neckline barely plunged, showing next to no cleavage. Sure, I had spaghetti straps, but so what? Last I checked, a little shoulder didn’t drive anyone crazy. My hem stopped right above my knee, very modest. It was a Mom’s night out dress if ever there was one, down to the fact that it didn’t fit exactly right. I wasn’t flaunting anything.
I was clearly missing something, but at that moment, I didn’t care what it was. I shook my head and pushed into the bathroom, taking my place behind two women in jeans and flannel.
“Excuse me.” The woman in front of me moved out of the way.
“Oh.” I pointed at the two occupied stalls. “You’re not waiting?”
“No, no. Go ahead.” She gestured me on and fell in behind me.
After a step forward, the woman at the head of the line gave me a tight smile. “Here.” She stepped out of the way as someone came out of the larger stall.
“Oops. Sorry! I didn’t mean to take so long.” A younger woman, who did have a plunging neckline and a hem that lazily tapped her very upper thighs, quickly scooted out of the way.
“No worries,” I said, admiring her sparkly sequins as I slipped past.
For the first time in…years, I actually wanted to try something like that. Something a little loud and a little look at me, world, here I am! I used to wear stuff like that all the time when I was in my twenties. After my body had morphed into a holding cell for a human and then refused to bounce back, I’d gravitated toward darker clothes and blacks for the slimming qualities. I’d started aiming for modest attire, something I thought better suited my age.
But if Niamh could walk around town braless in a white T-shirt in a rainstorm, not at all worried what people thought, why couldn’t I opt for some color? Black was great, but so was the sparkly sequin extravaganza on that woman. I’d need it a little longer because I didn’t have the presence of mind to watch myself as I bent over (I’d flash the whole world, repeatedly), but what was stopping me from going for it? People’s reactions?
An uncomfortable feeling coiled in my belly as I closed myself in the stall.
Honestly, yes, it was people’s reactions. It was the fear that I’d get condescending looks if I stepped out of my lane or shrugged off my mantle of midlife modesty. That I’d get judged or sneered at or maybe even pitied if I showed off a little cleavage, a little leg, and a lot of personality. “Look at that woman, Janice! Good Lord, she is too old for a dress like that. Poor dear is trying too hard to cling to her youth.”