This post was inspired by real events. All names have been changed, except mine. No writer can resist the urge to make herself look clever on the page.

Three retired teachers, women of a certain age (mine), are seated at a table in Applebees.

“Hello.  My name is Chet, and it will be my great pleasure to serve you lovely ladies today.”

The ladies make eye contact.  Sandy winks at them.  They’ve talked about waiters who want to be their friends, and they don’t care for the familiarity, not at all.

“Can I get you ladies anything to drink?  A glass of wine, or a cocktail, perhaps.:

Sandy says, “Bloody Mary, please.  Don’t be stingy with the olives.”

“Gin and tonic.  Don’t be stingy with the gin,” says Gloria.

Mary says,  “Nothing for me.  Well, perhaps water with lemon.”

Sandy and Gloria raise their eyebrows, and when Chet leaves to scout for new friends, Sandy slaps her hand on the table and says, “You’re pregnant!”

Mary says, “Well that would be hilarious—and improbable—for a number of reasons.  No, it’s just that my back’s been bothering me again . . .”

Sandy and Gloria immediately dive into their purses, and in seconds, they produce travel-size bottles of Excedrin, Tylenol, Aleve, and Advil.  Sandy digs deeper and produces a bottle of prescription-strength anti-inflammatory and a couple linty Vicodin wrapped up in a Kleenex.

“No, no,” Mary says. “I took a muscle relaxer and I don’t think I should drink with it.  I will be fine.  You know I have spells like this when I twist the wrong way or overexert . . .”

“Wild, crazy sex positions, right?” says Sandy.

“Yeah, riiiiiight,” Mary says. “Anyway, it’s been, what, six weeks since we met?  Ridiculous.  Let’s get our our calendars right now and find a date.  I can’t go another six weeks without my girlfriends!”

They all plunge into their purses, which are the size of diaper bags. Sandy retrieves her cell phone and opens her calendar app.  Gloria has a little Girl Scout calendar her granddaughter gave her.  Mary lugs out her Franklin Covey daily ring-bound planner.h

Sandy points to Mary’s 2-inch thick datebook and says, “I think I know how you hurt your back.

Mary offers up the first date option for their next meeting.  “How about lunch on the 11th?

“I have writing class until 12:30, but I could do a late lunch,” Sandy says.

“My water colors class starts at 1:30, but maybe we could do dinner that night.  It would have to be late for me because I have to watch the grandkids,” says Gloria.

“I can’t do late dinner.  I have Weight Watchers weigh-in,” says Mary.

Sandy, who knows the meeting schedule for every Weight Watcher class in Cincinnati by heart because she skips them all, says, “Weight Watchers on Wednesday night?”

“No.  Thursday morning.  I have to fast all day Wednesday before a weigh-in.  And shave my legs.  And remove my ear wax,” says Mary.  She pages through her Franklin-Covey.  “March 14th?    I’m wide open all day.”

Sandy says, “I’ll be on my writing retreat that weekend, but it ends around 3:00.  I could make dinner.”

Gloria says, “Can’t.  Taking a cooking class at Jungle Jim’s.  What about the next day, the 15th?

“I could do late lunch or dinner, as long as they have soup.  Getting the royal treatment at the dentist that morning—two crowns,” says Sandy. “And you’ll have to treat.  All my money will be gone.”

“I’m only free in the morning.  Heading for Philly for Astrid’s first communion,” says Mary.  She flips a couple pages in her FC Bible.  “Okay, let’s try for lunch or breakfast the following week.  How about the 24th?

“Breakfast works for me,” says Sandy. “As long is Mary doesn’t have morning sickness.”

“Sorry gals,” says Gloria.  “Yoga.  I’ve paid for all these classes, and I haven’t made one yet.”

“That Friday then.  I could only do lunch or dinner.  Have breakfast that day with my step-mother.”

“Friday?  That’s Good Friday,” says Mary.  “I can’t made it that day.”

“What?  You don’t eat on Good Friday?”  Sandy says.  “Just another reason I’m a heathen.  You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your physical sustenance for your spiritual sustenance.”

“I eat on Good Friday,” says Gloria.

Mary says, “I can eat on Good Friday.  I just don’t have time to eat.  I have to sing in the choir and be the liturgist.”

“Could we meet you afterwards for an all-you-can-eat buffet of communion wafers?  Wine included?” asks Sandy.

They all laugh at this.  Mary reminds herself to pray for Sandy.

Gloria suggests the 3rd.   Mary says quietly, “That’s the day Dave and I go up to Columbus to visit Jeffrey at the. . . well, you know.”

Sandy and Mary each squeeze one of Gloria’s hands under the table.  Mary straightens up and says, “Check the 5th for lunch.”

Mary says, “Yes!”

Sandy says, “Hooray!  April 5th  for lunch.”

“Not April 5thMay 5th,”  says Gloria.

Just as Mary slams her Franklin Covey shut in frustration, someone approaches the table, and Gloria is the first to recognize their former colleague, JoJo.  JoJo looks very old, Gloria thinks.  “Oh, Jo!” she says,  “It’’s you! Haven’t seen you in ages.  You look great!”

“I’m hanging in there. This is my thirtieth year teaching 8th graders.”

“No, 210 years,” Sandy says.  “Teaching years are like dog years.”

“Yeah,” JoJo says.  “I’m beat.  Teaching has changed so much.  No Child Left Untested, you know.  I’m thinking about retiring, but I don’t know what I’d do all day.”

“Oh, girlfriend,” Sandy says,  “you gotta retire.  Work is a four-letter word.”

JoJo sighs, then says, “When can we all get together for lunch?”

 

 

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