By mid-afternoon, the atmosphere is so tense that even the background music coming from the ceiling speakers plays quieter than usual. As soon as lunchtime rolled around, I hurried out to avoid any more one-on-one encounters with the boss. When I returned, he was back in his closed office, but this time with the blinds drawn.
I decide to send a message to my three buddies.
“Going out tonight, depression-drinking night. Who’s in?”
Jonathan is the first to reply.
“Just tell me the meeting spot!”
Then Bia.
“7 p.m. sharp! I’m only not going to drink until I drop because Jonathan doesn’t have the strength to carry me.”
Jonathan:
“.I.”
Lastly, Claire:
“Bar Light, and don’t even think about complaining about the place! We can’t go to Seven. I’ll go book the table.”
I grumble to myself. Bar Light is a bit too fancy for us—we just want to drink to forget. And on top of that, it’s relatively close to my work, but we really can’t go to Seven—Claire’s ex’s new, slutty girlfriend works there. On these nights of drinking to drown our sorrows, each of us complains about some sad aspect of our lives and drinks until we think it’s enough, only to regret drinking so much the next day and realize that, after all, our problem is more trivial than we thought.
The rest of the day goes by normally; every now and then I glance at his office to see if I can make out any movement through the shadows, but the only thing I see are the blinds. He calls Laila whenever he needs her services.
Just as we’re packing up to leave, the office door suddenly swings open and Mr. Parker comes out just as breathless as when he went in. He mutters a “Good night” without looking at us and steps into the elevator.
- I didn’t want to be the one who put him in this state!
Laila says, packing her things back into her work bag.
I don’t answer her. Was it me who put him in that state? Or did he receive bad news? I prefer to believe it’s the second option.
I arrive at the bar a little late; walking there from work might seem close, but nothing is close when it’s more than 50 meters in high heels. I walk into the bar breathless, exhausted, and immediately take off my long coat—it’s that hot inside. I weave my way through the crowd of people standing around with beers or cocktails in hand until I reach the table area. I see my three friends at the central table; all the others are already full, too.
- We started without you.
Jonathan tells me, passing me a shot of tequila and squeezing in so I can sit down. It’s a round table with a semicircular bench. Comfortable, but too small for four people who want to get drunk. I recognize some coworkers from other floors, also decompressing after the stress of the day.
Just the thought of running into my boss there sends a shiver down my spine. I drink the shot without bracing myself for the sudden fire that’s going to burn my throat. Bia hands me the lime with a smile.
- Bad day? - She asks.
Jonathan glances at me, and I give him my “say a word and you’re a eunuch” look, all within two seconds.
-Don’t even ask. Horrible day.
- Well, join the club! - Claire already has a beer in her hand and starts resting her arm on the table.
A sign that at least three of the seven empty shot glasses on the table were hers. “Why didn’t I choose another field? Why did I choose to be a teacher of little devils?!” – We start laughing, and Claire takes another big gulp of her beer. – Laugh all you want! You’re not the ones with handprints on your shirt!”
She opens her cardigan and shows her T-shirt; right over each breast are the marks of small hands—red and yellow.
- Now that’s what I call a work of art!
Bia says as Claire wraps the cardigan back around herself, visibly upset.
- They’re just unbearable! I think the devil learns from them, because they’re the worst! Not even the girls behave themselves! Then in front of their parents, they’re little angels! It’s all fake! I swear, being a teacher has taken away my desire to be a mother. It’s even taken away my desire to have sex! I think my calling is to be a nun.
We burst out laughing; if Claire becomes a nun, then the world is going to end.
- Drink up, Claire. If you think kids are horrible to deal with, then imagine what it’s like to train grown men who don’t know how to behave, who crack dirty jokes just because the teacher is a woman!
- Let me come to one of your classes, please! I promise I’ll behave! I really need some testosterone around!
- No way! The last time you went there, you wouldn’t stop drooling, and on top of that, you joined in on the infernal noise they were making!
Jonathan pouts at Bia, but she doesn’t give in.
- Well. I think we all need to be like Blair, BE VIRGINS!
Claire yells the last sentence and I almost jump over the table to shut her up.
- Claire! Keep your voice down! I have coworkers around here!
- Sorry, Blair, I think I’ll cut back on the drinking.
- Well, let’s go around and say why we’re depressed, and whoever gives the weakest reason has to stay sober. Claire, you can start.
- Fed up with kids and handprints on my boobs. Bia.
- Fed up with men, thinking about becoming a lesbian! Jonathan.
- Mmmm… Being single and poor! Blair.
They all know I’ll never be the one to stay sober as long as I have this card up my sleeve.
- Being 28 and still a virgin! - I raise my shot glass in a toast and a victory sign. The others roll their eyes and snort, already sick of always having the same reason.
- One day, Blair, one day, you’ll run out of that excuse and you’ll be the one who’s always sober so you can keep up with us drunks!
I laugh at my obvious victory and drink my prize. And speaking of prizes, Claire remembers something quite important.
- Blair! I have some great news!
- What is it?
I try to make a normal face for Claire, but the tequila’s heat won’t let me.
- You’re going on a date next week.