Why Haven’t You Gotten Married?

I like my own company, you know, being indoors. It’s quiet, calm, and quaint. Did I mention that it was quiet? Everything I need, I have at home. For some reason, my family keeps dragging me outside to “mingle”. Like I don’t know what’s best for myself.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“You coming to our event tonight?”

“Uh, no. I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Apologies…”

“It’s okay. I just need more time.”

“What I meant to say was, you are coming to our event tonight. I already put your name down.”

“But I don’t want…”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes ma’am.” I sigh, remembering the lack of control from my childhood.  

“Make sure you look nice, it’s black tie.”

See what I’m saying? When did I become a kid again? I don’t have a problem being around people, especially in my line of work. I have a problem putting on a show for people, for the sake of others' entertainment. In situations like this, the less said the better. 

“I’m focused on my work right now,” I answer honestly. My go-to, known to stop the continuation of any conversation. You’d be surprised how often it happens at these things, it seems to be more frequent the older I get. After my statement, there’s usually silence, followed by a lot of fidgeting. Looking for whatever distraction is needed to fuel their attention, I receive a fake smile and a “good for you” as they walk away. 

But she didn’t. Just a blank expression, looking through me, like she was downloading my answer. She wore this sleeveless gray turtleneck dress, it was short but tasteful. I could tell that she took care of herself. Her matte lipstick matched her heels, and her messy bun complemented her ensemble. Stunning.   

“Then why are you here?” She asks, raising her eyebrow.

Shit.

What should I say? How about the truth? It’s gotten me this far, I close my eyes and breathe.

“My mother.” I blurted out, opening one of my eyes to see if she was still there. She was. With that blank stare, downloading, she meets my gaze.

“Same.” She blurts, reaching out her hand, “Ana.”

“Lee.”

We shake, and head over to the open bar that our chaperones graciously provided.

“Tequila on the rocks.”

“Any preference?”

“What do you have?”

I hear Don Julio, “Make it a double.”

“And for the lady?”

“Tequila and Sprite.”

“Any preference?”

She looks at me and then back at the bartender. “Don Julio looks good.”

The bartender steps away to make our drinks. I grab two napkins and place them down in front of us. I then take some salt and sprinkle it over the napkins. She looks at me and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Is that a magic trick?” She asks.

“Something like that.” I chuckle.

The bartender heads back with our drinks, placing them directly on the napkins. Ana picked up her drink, noticing that the napkin was not wrapped around the glass. She turns around, smirking. The bartender and I nod as he notices me stuffing a five-dollar bill into his tip jar. I turn around and see her staring off.   

“What dirt does she have on you?” She asks seriously.

“What?” I ask, almost coughing on my pull.

“You know, why do you still show up to these things?” As she takes a sip.

I adjust myself on the stool, searching my lexicon for an answer. I got nothing.

“I got nothing,” I answered honestly.

She chuckles “Sure you do. You just haven’t been honest with yourself.” and takes another sip.

I look at her drink to see how much she’s finished since she’s turned around, but she was being genuine. I haven’t felt that from another person in a long time.

“Then you tell me, what does your mother have on you?” I ask, attempting to take the attention off myself.

Ana stares at the glass, rubbing on her fingernail along the condensation. “I was here three years ago. I met my ex-fiance right over there on the dance floor. She couldn’t dance for shit but what she lacked in rhythm she made up in charm. Back then there wasn’t an open bar, so we had to improvise.”

She finished her drink and pulled out a flask from her clutch. She unscrews it and fills up her glass. She looks at me and shakes the flask. I finish my drink, attempting to not swallow the lime as she pours the rest of the drink into my cup. I sip.

“Whoa” as my taste-buds are hit with a grenadine and soda combination. I feel this strong taste at the back of the swallow, very spiritual. I swirl the remaining ice in my glass to dilute the flavor.

“It’s a Shirley Temple with Hennessy. I call it a “Dirty Shirley”.” She says loudly, starting to feel the effects of her pour.

“You said ex-fiance?” I ask, interested.

“Yeah.” She sighs, looking at her flask.

“A year ago, she was offered a CTO position at a startup. It was her dream job but they needed her onsite, in San Francisco. I still had at least a year left in my residency and relocation was not an option.”

“I tried to make it work for months. Scheduled phone calls, scheduled FaceTimes, and even scheduled visits. But it wasn’t enough, she wasn’t here and I wasn’t there. Things took a toll for the worse when I saw her assistant holding her hand as she made up another excuse why she wasn’t coming home for the holidays. So I stopped.”  

“Stopped what?”

“Everything. I sent her ring back in the mail along with all of the stuff she kept in the apartment. We lived in the suburbs, but without her there, the place felt too big. It didn’t feel like home anymore.”

I take another sip of the “Dirty Shirley”, it’s smoother this time.

“I moved back to the city about six months ago. Now I’m here, giving this another try.” She turns around and grabs a napkin, pat drying her makeup.

“I had to do an emergency tracheotomy this morning, but somehow this terrified me. She and my mother are sorority sisters. I know they shared information about me, both good and bad.

With all the chatter and gossip I witnessed at these things I prepared myself for the worst. I prepared myself for that question, but I didn't recognize anyone here. I’ve been dragged along to these things since undergrad and still not a soul. I started to get upset, wondering to myself "Is nobody going to say it?” All of that preparation was wasted until I saw you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, I remember you from last time. The oldest son of the chapter president, the hotshot writer. Wasn't your book promoted by the New York Times best sellers list for like twelve consecutive weeks?

“Fifteen,” I sigh, looking around to make sure nobody heard her.

“That’s right, my mom wouldn’t shut up about you, none of the ladies did. Seeing you here after all this time made me feel better about the situation. That’s why I had to ask.”

I finish my drink, shake my head, and chuckle. I turn, placing the glass behind me at the bar. I gather myself and turn back around. There she is, staring intently. I hadn’t noticed the color of her eyes before. They were like autumn, the season itself. I knew what was next. I stepped in closer, and she did the same.

“You know, you still haven’t answered my question.” She says, putting down her drink.  

“You’re right.” I reach out my hand. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll tell you why.”

She smiles and grabs my hand, it’s warm. We head to the door.