Anya and Sherry

Anya closed the lid of her laptop over the keyboard programmed to light up in gradient shades of pink. She checked her smartwatch that showed 8:30pm in the foreground of her other metrics: heart-rate, steps, temperature outside. She sighed as she imagined the strenuous drive into the city, then arriving into the chaos of anticipation and storm of pheromones that was the infamous Open Mic Night at Sparrow Lounge.

Her brain shifts modes: from meticulous and professional software programmer to loose and relaxed “cool girl”, laughing along with audience members at the atrocities of life. She shook her arms as she stood up – a suggestion she learned from the most uptight comedian she’d ever met: “Your physical body has as much influence as your words, so keep it open and lucid”, he’d said. She’d never heard the word “lucid” used in casual conversation, and at the time had to stop herself from assuming he was basically telling her to be slutty. But she’d realized that as time went on, he was right. You have to relax.

She added some pep to her step on her way to the closet, as the adrenaline started to kick in. What could she wear that would exude the best balance of confidence and humility? With an air of sophistication, but not too much to where she stood out? She grabbed her staple black tank top and slipped it over her head, the straps and chest line falling right into place like pieces of a Lego set. She grabbed her colorful beaded necklace to add her extra “pop”, before her dark grey ripped jeans all but screamed at her “uh, hello?!” and also seemingly clicked on as she slid them over her legs. She popped in her small golden hoops and checked herself out in the mirror: simple and flattering with a touch of grittiness. Good enough.

She realized she hadn’t had time to go through her joke list but knew any effort at this point would be for naught. She said goodbye to her dog Smokey as she slipped on her faded pink Vans and fumbled in her shoulder bag for her apartment key. She looked back at what looked like your average mid-twenties almost-adult’s home: a messy kitchen with unwashed pots and pans contrasting next to a neat and tidy TV console displaying a careful curation of merchandise from her favorite shows and games. Work laptop set up on the coffee table with a notebook and mail spread out behind it. Apartment key hanging on the edge, about to fall out of view.

On the drive to the bar, she started to get the typical social anxiety questions drift into consciousness: Who will she know there? Who will she hang out with? What will they think of her jokes? Did she look too much like a try-hard?

Soon enough the drive went by in a flash of perturbed defensiveness against all the drivers in a rush or angry at the world: her usual welcome into the city. She’d snagged a parking spot much quicker than she expected, spiking her adrenaline up and leading her to grab her phone hoping there was some kind of comfort there that would help her calm down. She checked her heart-rate: 110bpm.

She opened her texts: “Yeah, just got here” her comedian friend Mel had responded. She sighed in relief and jutted out of the car, starting off at a quick pace over to the door of the bar on Blackberry Street that somehow both blended in and stood out against the bland strip.

As she was met with the familiar smell of beer and liquor, as well as the chaotic décor that said “welcome to an artist jungle”. The walls and ceiling had way of exuding “we don’t care about how we look” vibes while also providing an endless supply of interesting things to look at. She looked around and gave head nods to those she recognized, before spotting Mel at the bar and power-walked to her social life-jacket.

“Hey!” they both exclaimed as they hugged.

“This is Sherry, she’s the best bartender!” Mel exclaimed as she gestured to a woman that gave her a quick, friendly glance as she grabbed three cups from the stack and started to fill them with a cider on tap.

“We we’re just talking about weird dates we’ve been on, which somehow lead to a conversation about the end of the world” Mel said with a laugh. “We’ve got to stick together when that happens”.

Anya laughed. “Yeah, for sure. That would actually be great; if we could get a group of comedians together, we could lie or bullshit through anything, and be entertaining about it at the same time” she said, without letting on how seriously she actually would be about that.

The other women laughed along and tried to keep a conversation over the loud music.

“Oh my god, I’m seriously ready to go at any point” Sherry added. “I’ve already been through so much shit, and my dad taught me how to protect myself well."

Since Anya’s senses were finally getting used to the hectic atmosphere, she was able to focus more on her new potential friend. She had countless tattoos & piercings, was wearing a tight black dress, had a head full of wild curly blonde hair and witchy-looking nails that matched the spooky vibe of the bar. She had a huge iPhone hanging out of her pocket and another one out in front of her on the bar. She smiled as the ciders filled up and it looked like it was the first genuine one she’d had in a while.

Sherry brought the overfilled ciders over and they all cheered before taking a big gulp of their overly sweet social lubricants.

“I’m like, crazy actually” Sherry said with a laugh. “I have like, hidden weapons on me for protection and stuff.”

“Yeah, Sherry is pretty next level” Mel said, also with a laugh but one that had an air of caution.

“I know exactly what to do in any dangerous situation. I know how to fight and I know how run”. Sherry added.

Mel let out a nervous laugh and scanned the room, clearly starting to formulate her way out of the conversation. Anya didn’t quite know how to react out loud, but internally found herself being impressed and intrigued. She sipped her cider again to avoid having to say anything.

“I’m gonna head up and get a good seat before it starts” was Mel’s choice for excuse.

Sherry nodded as her attention was grabbed by a long-haired comedian putting cash on the counter, eager for his beer.

“I’ll go with you” Anya replied, desperate not to be caught alone at the bar, the social sin of her anxious mind.

Mel nodded, chugged the rest of her water and started gathering her things. Anya glanced around at all the other people and somehow felt the most alone in the most crowded place she’d been all week. What did she have in common with all of these cool, confident comedians? Of course she could do it, perform just like them, but it always felt like she was putting on an act. Like their stage personas were identical to their real ones – calm, funny and artistic, while for her it was an awkward illusion that began when she walked in the door. A role she played to escape her dull corporate life, a dream that was never realistic and would lead her down a road of never-ending imposter syndrome that she’d already had plenty of at work.

As she tried to shake these feelings free to prepare for the even more emotionally intense showroom upstairs, she felt a light grab at her wrist pull her back into reality.

“Hey, stick around for a sec. I want to hear about your comedy” Sherry said as she raised the tap over a cup with her other hand.

“Oh… okay” Anya responded while looking at Mel to see her reaction.

Mel just shrugged and walked away, taken as a social sting by Anya even though she knew it really didn’t mean much.

Feeling unsure, she sat down on the stool Mel just left and fumbled with her drink to distract her “I’m alone” thoughts while waiting for Sherry to be done with the drinks. It felt like it took an hour for the beer to be poured even though it was practically shooting out of the old-fashioned tap.

When it was finally done and Sherry handed the beer away for a return of cash and a measly tip, her attention was back to Anya.

“So, what do you joke about? Stupid boys or people buying cheap drinks?” she asked.

“Well actually funnily enough, I’m working on bits about an apocalypse. How everyone’s going to lose their god damned minds and quickly start fighting to the death over spiked seltzers and shit to cope”.

Sherry let out a loud laugh and Anya saw a look of surprise on the face of the barback nearby. Even though they had just met, it did really feel like a laugh that had been waiting years to surface.

“You’re funny. And I don’t think a lot of people are funny” Sherry said before gulping more cider and checking her phone.

“Thanks” Anya said with a blush. She rolled through her overstimulated mind to come up with something to say and landed on what she was most curious about.

“So you really have defense weapons on you?”

“Yeah, I mean, look at this place. We’re in center city; strange things have and will happen here. You seriously never know. Anyway, I like you. Want to do a shot?”

Anya was shocked by her bluntness and casual tone, but knew she wanted to know more. She nodded and realized she felt extremely intrigued by this woman she had seemingly nothing in common with. Or was it everything in common with?

“I gotta be safe, I’ve got kids” Sherry said as she brought out a nice bottle of tequila to pour into small plastic shot glasses. “Also have a crazy ex that I have to live with because I can’t afford a place of my own yet. I’m telling you, I have to be ready for anything”.

Anya realized she’d never heard of any story like this in real life – only in TV shows and movies. It was so different than all the others that she’d known in what she now realizes was a vanilla life. The only stories she’d been hearing lately have been of moving into nice apartments, buying houses, traveling the world or going to graduate school. This was new, this was different, and this was real.

As they clinked their shots together and took their gulps, she realized how she had no social fears when talking with Sherry and found herself asking her more about what center city was like, about her kids, where she grew up, and what she thought of the comedy scene. She’d learned that Sherry had been working there for over a decade: was at it’s start and it’s “come up”, seen the comedy show evolve and now helps manage the place. She told secrets about the owner and how the place is set up, who the regulars are and who to avoid. Anya shared her love of Halloween costumes, showing pictures of her goofiest ones. Sherry had almost spit out her drink in laughter when she showed a picture of her as a dressed pickle. “I turned myself into a pickle…” she sang, a bit from the show Rick & Morty. “Picklanya!” Sherry cried and swore would be her new nickname, maybe even the name for a new drink. The two spent over an hour talking, Sherry pouring drinks and Anya swaying on the stool as she lost her anxious adrenaline. Anya checked her watch and realized she hadn’t even signed up for the open mic yet. She looked at her heart-rate: a calm 60bpm. She stood up to finally go upstairs.

“Hey, come back tomorrow night” Sherry said with clear enthusiasm. It’ll be fun – we do karaoke and play Connect Four”. Anya imagined what any of her other friends or family would think if she told them what she was doing on a Friday night: going to sing crazy songs and play children’s game at a dark bird-themed bar in center city. She rolled her eyes. Of course they would think she was “weird”. They’d say something like “Always eccentric, Anya!” or “That’s so random, be safe”. She shook her head and realized that it didn’t actually matter. No matter what she did or who she did it with, people would have their own opinions and none of it actually affected her. The only thing that did was whether she was having fun. If people didn’t want her to have fun, then they weren’t her people. She couldn’t help but break into a lengthy smile.

“I’ll be there”.