In Spite of Herself

Alice shivered. She couldn't get warm lately and felt especially cold tonight. They must have already turned the air conditioning on, even though it was only April. She steadied the microphone as her gaze swam the sea of faces in the bar. Most she had known for nigh on fifty years, give or take, but there were a few strangers, like the fella Lucy Mae was sitting a bit too close to. Lucy Mae was on dating apps, of all things.

Oh, she'd missed her cue.

“Can we start over?” she asked.

“That's all right.” Matt answered an apology she hadn't made as he restarted the song.

This time, she looked away from the crowd to focus on the light bouncing across the top of the word Introduction on the television screen high on the wall. She held the microphone tightly with both hands to stop her nervous tremor.

Why was she even doing this? Lucy Mae was why, and she glared at her. Lucy Mae beamed back encouragingly, her hand on her fella's thigh. Good grief. Weren't they too old for that?

Oy, she'd missed it again.

“That's okay,” Matt said, and restarted the song.

Everyone was staring during the Introduction now, pity plain on their faces. Well, she had to get through it. Lucy Mae would never let her live it down if she walked off the stage of embarrassment. This time, Lucy Mae joined her loudly on the first line, and then Alice finally managed to follow the little dot across the top of the words on her own.

“Great job, Alice!” Lucy Mae beamed amidst the applause as Alice carefully made her way back to their table when she’d finally finished the song. Alice sank into the chair next to Lucy Mae and wished she hadn’t come.

Lucy Mae leaned in. “Don’t look now, but that gentleman in the corner hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”

Alice looked to the corner booth and was surprised to see a well-groomed man looking back at her. She held his gaze in challenge until he finally looked away, and then she turned back to Lucy Mae.

“I don’t have time for foolish games,” she said but felt heat in her toes. She wiggled them, satisfied to think about the pink polish inside her wool socks, inside her sensible shoes. She couldn’t show off her pink toes in strappy sandals or heels like she had when she was in her fifties or sixties. She couldn’t risk a fall navigating this knotty pine floor around all these tables, all these people. She still had all her original parts, but she knew one fall could change that.

“Buy you a drink?”

“Oh, good Lord!” Alice clutched her heart. She’d been looking down at her shoes under the table, immersed in satisfaction at the pretty pink polish she knew was there, and hadn’t noticed the gentleman in question had approached their table. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”

She was surprised to find him taller than she had expected. Everyone was shrinking, losing an inch with every decade it seemed. This man still stood straight as an oak tree and looked as strong. She shook her head as she looked away from him. “No, thank you.”

“Oh, Alice, have a drink,” Lucy Mae said, “It’ll loosen you up.”

“I don’t need to loosen up. I got up there and sang, didn’t I?”

“Mind if I sit?” the man interrupted.

“Yes,” Alice said.

“Sit,” Lucy Marie contradicted.

He sat and held out a hand, which Alice took out of basic good manners.

“I’m Tom. You sounded awfully good up there for it being your first time.”

“Well, what makes you think it was my first time, Tom?”

“Well, Matt said, ‘Alice Newberry, making her debut . . .’”

Good grief. She didn’t remember that. She’d been so nervous. She didn’t know why, though. The old bird up there singing now not only sounded like a cat that got its tail caught in a sausage grinder, but her hair was also a sickly shade of purple.

“Well, you already know my name then,” Alice said, as she lifted a hand to pat her own hair, to ascertain it was still properly coiffed. She had been to the beauty parlor this morning, and the girl had used enough hairspray that these curls should last a week of Tuesdays.

“Miller Lite,” Alice said to the waitress when she came around again. Not that she needed a drink to loosen up. And not that she needed to accept a drink from this gentleman just because he had offered. But it had been ages since she’d had a cold beer on draft, and it was starting to warm up in here.

She looked at Tom, whose eyes were on the singer now, and wondered if he would go offer to buy her a drink when she finished. Alice wanted to cover her ears against the screeching of the woman, and she was just about to give in to the urge when the song finally ended. She clapped politely along with everyone else, and then Matt called Tom up.

“Wish me luck,” Tom said, but he was gone before Alice could reply.

His eyes roved the crowd as he began, “Let me take your hand my dear,” but they kept lingering on Alice. She held his gaze until her mouth went dry and she found herself licking her lips, reaching for her frosty beer mug. As Tom smiled through the lyrics at her, the warmth that had begun in her toes started to creep up her body. She sipped her beer, letting the frosty mug cool her.

“His wife’s been gone a year or two now,” Lucy Mae leaned close to say quietly. “Looks like he’s taking a shine to you.”

“I’m not looking to be any man’s wife again,” Alice stated. She’d been happily married fifty-nine years, but she was long past cooking and cleaning and being anyone’s anything.

Lucy Mae giggled as she leaned farther into Alice to slide a nylon-encased foot up her date’s pant leg, her loafers discarded under the table. “None of us are looking for that, Alice. But love? Love is fun.” She let out a squeal as he reciprocated with a hand farther up her thigh than Alice thought seemly.

Alice rolled her eyes and scooted away from Lucy Mae, making her friend topple tipsily until she overcorrected into her date, who clutched her close. She was practically in his lap now. Alice looked back to the stage where Tom was watching their table in amusement as he sang. She felt her smile meet his. They were all too old for this.

The flush that had crept up Alice’s body was approaching her neck now as Tom’s eyes held hers. She undid the top buttons of her blouse and held her cold mug against each side of her neck in turn as Tom sang out his last notes. She didn’t even put it down to applaud when he finished but instead watched him watch her as he returned to their table.

“How’d I do?” he asked as he slid into the seat next to her.

“Very well,” she replied as she set her beer back on the table.

“What’s your next song?” he asked.

“Oh—I’m not doing another!”

“Well, Alice, you have to—” Lucy Mae interjected, “It’s going to come back around to you.”

“How about a duet?” Tom asked.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I’d make you look bad.”

“You could never do that,” Tom chuckled, “With your looks and voice, and my sex appeal, we’ll be a sensation.”

Alice laughed, in spite of herself.

“Oh, do it, Alice!” Lucy Mae said, “We’ll do one too! It’ll be fun!”

Lucy Mae was all about fun. And love. Alice thought about her own pink toenails hidden away in her sensible shoes. She could be fun. Love might be a different story, but she could definitely still be fun.

“Fine,” she said as though she’d just been asked to cook for a group of thirty. “What song?”

Tom swiped his phone a couple of times, then held it out in question.

Alice nodded. She’d been singing Loretta’s part along with the radio half her life. She could do this one.

Lucy Mae and her date sang some song that spoke far too freely about making love as they draped themselves across each other on the stage. Alice found herself working hard to suppress a giggle.

“They’re cute,” Tom said.

“They’re ridiculous,” Alice argued. But they were kinda cute, weren’t they? Acting like teenagers and well into their eighth decade.

“Our turn.” Tom held out his hand to lead her to the stage, and Alice was surprised how natural it felt to slip her hand into his. His smile was infectious, and she felt the warmth that had been slowly creeping up her body all night finally flood her face, her cheeks now probably as pink as her toes.

Their voices complemented each other quite nicely, Alice thought as they sang, and they managed to keep in rhythm, even though this song was fast, faster than she remembered. She found her foot tapping the pine floor and her hand tapping her thigh as they slung the lines back and forth, their smiles widening as the song went on.

When they finished, Alice tucked the microphone under her arm to clap for Tom. He was fantastic. They were fantastic. He bowed theatrically and then swept his arm toward her for her to do the same. She bowed, then rose with a warm smile to take his hand as they exited the stage.