Page 1 of Someone to Have
1
TAYLOR
I standon the sidewalk in front of Tony’s, the most popular local bar in my hometown, and wonder—not for the first time—what am I doing here?
Not in an existential crisis sort of way. There’s no debating the meaning of life or my purpose on the planet. This is more a question ofwhy haven’t I left Skylark, Colorado?
Wouldn’t I be happier somewhere I could create who I want to be from scratch instead of staying stuck as the me everyone thinks they know?
My teeth chatter as the January wind whips along the street. The buildings of Main Street are encased in winter frost and most of them are closed for the day. Except for the one I’m staring at.
It’s half past eight on the first Sunday of the new year, and the old Victorian structure, with its chipped gray paint and faded white shutters, is lit up with colored twinkle lights, flashing like a beacon in the darkness. A wreath hangs on the door, adorned with empty shot bottles—don’t want to tempt the local teens. The words painted on the front window wish everyone a Merry Beer-mas.
This is stupid, and it’s only going to get worse inside. I shouldbe at home, polishing off the last of the stale holiday cookies I baked with my nieces and watching BBC America. A British accent makes everything better.
As I’m about to scurry away, Molly McAllister and Avah Harris pull up in Avah’s BMW. She parallel parks the compact SUV like it’s her job. Avah does everything well, which is kind of annoying if I’m being honest.
“Come on, Barbie, let’s go party,” she calls as her head appears above the top of the vehicle.
How does she keep her car so white when round-the-clock plowing after a recent storm has left a border of dingy snowbanks on either side of the street?
I lift a mittened hand to acknowledge the greeting, even though no one is going to confuse me with Barbie. Avah’s the one who looks like the anatomically impossible doll with her shiny hair, perky boobs, and tiny waist. I’m more Linebacker Barbie. Substantial and sturdy.
“Are you freezing?” Molly places her gloved hands on my cold cheeks. “Why didn’t you let us pick you up?”
“I’m only a couple blocks away. It’s easier to walk. Besides, whoever moved into the apartment across the hall from me is playing their music way too loud. There’s only so much old-school metal I can take in one evening.”
Avah joins us on the sidewalk, shimmying her hips. “Maybe your new neighbor isn’t a card-carrying member of AARP like everyone else in your building.”
“My neighbors are nice and quiet. We look out for each other.” Both statements are factual, but also a weak argument.
“Your hallway smells like Bengay and cough drops.”
“Muscles get tight when it’s cold. It’s a Colorado thing.”
“It’s an octogenarian thing.” Avah shivers against the cold air. “Seriously, you look like a human popsicle. Let’s get inside.”
I know what cold does to my face. My nose turns red like Rudolph while my eyes start to water. It’s not pretty.
“I might take a raincheck.” I glance toward the bar. “I see my brother and his friends through the window. I don’t know why Toby is out when I’m sure he’s still nursing a hangover from New Year’s Eve.”
“Relatable.” Avah links her arm with mine. “Jon and I went to some fancy corporate party at the Four Seasons in Denver. We stayed the night, and since neither of us was driving home and the champagne was complimentary…midnight is a bit of a blur.”
I snort, thinking about the takeout and Netflix binge I indulged in two nights ago to ring in the new year. “Are you trying to make me jealous? Because it’s working, and I want to punch you in the face.”
“I don’t condone physical violence,” Molly says with a laugh, a strand of red hair blowing into her face thanks to another wind gust. “But I do support you getting your drink on tonight.”
“And you don’t want to punch me in the face,” Avah says, trying to tug me forward. “You’re too sweet for that, Taylor.”
My booted feet remain planted on the sidewalk. At five-eleven, I’ve got six inches and probably forty pounds on Avah. My dad used to say I’m a “solid piece of work”, until my mom told him it hurt my feelings, which baffled him since he meant it as a compliment. But still…the upside of solid is that no one is dragging me anywhere I don’t want to go.
“Can we try somewhere else? My stupid brother’s going to make a big deal about seeing me out at a bar.”
“It’s not an exclusive club,” Avah reminds me. “And Toby is not the boss of you. Tony’s is for everyone.”
“An indiscriminate dive bar,” I mutter. “Imagine that.”
“We don’t have to imagine.” Avah tugs on my hand again. “We get to experience it in all its dive bar glory.”
