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Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
© 2005
What’s the Celebration?

Cheryl pointed through the smoke. “We’ve lucked out. There’s two seats at the bar.”

Dive. We’d found a dive.

“Aren’t we lucky?” She gushed as she made a beeline for those chairs. “And it’s right near your new neighborhood.”

I wiped some ashes off my chair listened as she order two vodkas with cranberry. Haven’t had one of those in years.

The four piece band was crammed into a far corner. They belted out a blues song, but it wasn’t about having to play in a dive that was a mixed assortment of leftovers who had nowhere else to go. It was about a man who lost his job. Was the song an original or an oldie?

Cheryl lifted her glass to make a toast. “Here’s to you getting out of that awful apartment and finding somewhere with a little class.”

I laughed. “I can’t believe I scored the best neighborhood in town. Who would have expected ‘ole Dave to manage a top complex in the city and save number seven for me?”

“All those windows.” She shook her head. “You’re going to love that light.”

“It’ll be like emerging from a cave.”

She laughed as we clinked our glasses again. “You cave woman no mo’.”

The lead singer in the band jumped off the stage and strummed his guitar across the dance floor.

“I’ll miss the old place.” I bit my lip. “All those stairs. All those stories.”

“I won’t miss the possibility of gang warfare when I come to visit.”

“Yeah. Well. You need to wake up to the excitement around you…”

“Let’s dance.” She said, putting her drink down. “Looks like you need a little excitement.”

Like that? Just like that? There was nobody else dancing now that the lead singer was back on stage. I looked at Cheryl closely and grabbed her arm. “OhmyGod. Girl. You’re drinking. And you want to go out. And you want to dance. Is this cycle of your bi-polar depression over, already?”

She shook her head. “Yeah. Can you believe it? This one only lasted seven months. I’m starting to climb out already.”

I smiled. Who wouldn’t dance to the end of depression? I thought we were celebrating my new place. But. It was far better to be celebrating Cheryl’s brain reversing directions and allowing her be awake without medication. Her depressions are like being stuck in the gooiest mud. And we never know their duration. The last one lasted two years.

We danced to a fast song. I swear the band made it longer to keep us out there, but we got into it. Funny how you can use up a whole dance floor when nobody else is around. Ok. Another fast song. An older couple joined us on the floor and swung each other around at dizzying speeds. Sure. Another dance. More people took to the floor. A man with jeans. Young lovers danced closely and rubbed across each other. An old grandpa danced around a young woman and made her laugh. We danced to another before we giggled our way back to our seats ready for drinks.

“You think he’s cute?” Cheryl pointed to the man wearing jeans with a tilt of her head and motioned to him that she wanted a cigarette.

My eyes got big. “OhmyGod. Girl. This is so good. So damn good. You really are cycling. You want a cigarette and a man? Amazing!”

Mr. Jeans walked over and offered her a cigarette. I winked behind her back as she introduced both of us.

A tall man with chocolate eyes walked up to our group. “Anyone here need a drink? I’m just moving to this side of town and am willing to buy some new friends.”

We all laughed and placed our orders.

“We’re you moving to?” I asked.

He told.

My eyebrows went up involuntarily. Yes. I mean. Me too. I mean. My new neighborhood. I mean. Um.

Chocolate-eyes and I would be neighbors.

Oh. Man. What a celebration.

Wanna try another column? How about #206 Rather Talk to Kids which is about shrimps talking about shrimp.

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