Lofty
Monday, April 3rd, 2006 The party was held in what might have been an abandoned warehouse. The ceilings were unnecessarily high and the square footage was ridiculous, but the hosts had done a good job of filling it. Along one wall was a newly-constructed bar staffed by three bartenders. People squeezed around tables of tacos and cheeseburgers set along another wall. In the center was a mostly melted ice sculpture. “Think it was an evil Mickey Mouse or Yosemite Sam, but I’m not really sure.” Anyway, by the time Kate and Susan got there it was just a lump of ice and waves of conversation were nearly drowning out the music.
A guy in black jeans, a dark green sweater-vest and thin-rimmed glasses stood next to the ice sculpture table and gestured as if he were giving a lecture. He kept glancing around the room, as if he were trying to invite more people into his conversation. Kate and Susan joined the group of people who were polite or bored enough to indulge him yet careful enough to seem uninterested.
“You know what the best hangover cure is, though?” He milked the question a bit, extracting half-hearted eye contact, “Coca-Cola. Ice-cold Coca-Cola does it every time. NOT Diet Coke, though. It has to be regular Coke, because all the sugar speeds up your metabolism and helps completely flush the alcohol out of your system.”
“Oh!” Kate grabbed Susan’s arm, and spoke softly so that she wouldn’t distract the Coke guy, who was gaining confidence from his growing audience. “So Nina had the kid?”
“Yup.”
“Boy or a girl?”
“A bouncing baby boy.”
“Plus, the carbonation helps ease stomach discomfort and the caffeine helps wake you up. Not to mention," fluidly gesticulating, clearly in his comfort zone, "the mysterious powers of both the coca leaf, a favorite of the Incas, and kola nut extract, often included in diet pills.”
“Do they have a name yet?”
“Logan.”
“Have you seen pictures?”
“I’ve held him. He’s squirmy.”
“Is he cute?”
“No, he’s hideously, hideously ugly.”
“Ah. Just like his auntie." Kate paused, "does it make you feel old, being an aunt?" Susan raised her eyebrows and smirked. Kate continued: "I mean, it makes me feel a little old for you. Or not old so much as maybe I should feel more old, you know, if people I know are having children. Christ, I couldn’t raise a child right now."
"Well yeah, actually holding him in my arms, I did sort of feel a newfound responsibility. Maybe…" Susan trailed off a bit, looking off in the distance momentarily, "maybe it has made me think about things differently. But what do you mean by ‘old’, anyway? You’re only as old as you feel, after all."
"I just… don’t want to start holding dinner parties and listening to jazz, you know what I mean?" It was not clear if Susan did know what she meant. "And I don’t like feeling like that’s what I supposed to do."
"No one’s telling you how to feel, Kate."
"Yeah, I know."
"In fact, Coca-Cola was originally advertised as a cure for addiction to morphine, nicotine and alcohol. And when the idea of prohibition became fashionable in the late nineteenth century, Coca-Cola was touted as a welcome alternative. Of course back then it still contained cocaine."
"Hey," Susan cracked her neck and looked around the party, "do you know where the bathroom is?"
"Yeah, see that long line in the corner?"
"Oh fantastic. Well, don’t wait up for me." And with that, Susan disappeared into the crowd and Kate edged toward the Coke guy.
