I Can't Believe It Myself

I CAN’T BELIEVE IT MYSELF

When I told my family about the bet, they didn’t believe me.  I’m not usually the person who makes bets with friends, let alone complete strangers.  Of course I do make bets when my favorite football team faces off against the local team.  However that only involves a lunch, NOT my dignity. 

 Perhaps I should start at the beginning.  My husband, Ted and I were spending a much-deserved vacation down in Padre Island, Texas.  We had rented a house on the beach which had been divided in two; each side with a patio and a small sandy yard surrounded by a privacy fence. 

That Tuesday, Ted had decided to go on a day-long fishing excursion.  I dutifully got up at the crack of dawn, fixed him breakfast, and packed him enough food and beer to last him until his return later that night.  I was feeling especially proud of myself for executing those wifely duties and decided to reward myself to a mimosa.  Now I normally wouldn’t be drinking at 7 in the morning, but like I said, I felt I deserved it and drank long and deep from the orangey mixture. 

 I changed into my two-piece bathing suit and headed down the backstairs with a paperback and my drink.  I precariously settled into a lounge chair and opened my book.  The sun had not yet reached far enough into the sky to peek over the fence, but the heat of the morning was enough to ward off any chilliness the shadows across my body should have caused.  My drink, coupled with the early day’s warmth, gave me a sweet rosy feeling.    

 I must have dozed off into a deep sleep because the sudden blare of music from the other side of the fence caused me to jump.  I had met our new neighbors briefly the day before; four newly graduated college co-eds out for their last hurrah before buckling down and getting jobs.  They were sweet, earnest and eager to set the world on fire.  I smiled and wondered whether I had ever been that naïve and came to the conclusion that I probably had. 

I went into the house and saw that it was already 10:00 and probably quite a legitimate time to have a drink.  I poured another one of my concoctions then headed back outside to the lounge.

 A slight breeze feathering my body conflicted with the late morning’s heat against my skin.  My drink was refreshing and I welcomed the condensation dripping onto my chest.  As I read, the girls’ voices got louder and louder and then their giggles would be replaced by a roar of laughter and the sound of the back gate banging closed.  This cycle seemed to go on every five to ten minutes, and I began to wonder what exactly was going on.

 Finding my glass yet again empty, I went back to the house and grabbed another drink.  Coming out and standing on the top step by the door, I could just see the tops of the girls’ heads under the table umbrella.  The music and their giggles made me stop and smile; how long has it been since I’ve been so carefree and silly?  “Way too long.” I mused.

 Before I could walk down to my chair, one of the girls came up their stairs and saw me there.  “Hi, Mrs. J.  Remember me? I’m Julie, we met the other day.”  She smiled widely as she opened the door with one hand and balanced a glass pitcher with the other.

“Of course I remember you, Julie.  But what are you doing over there?  Sounds like you’re having a great time.”

Julie started giggling, closed the door and leaned over the top railing.  “We were just coming in this morning when we saw Mr. J. leaving with all of his fishing things.  Why don’t you join us?“  Seeing my mouth open to decline, she called to her friends.  “Mrs. J. is coming over.  Maybe we can convince her to play the game with us.”  Turning back to me she said “Just go out your back gate and come in ours.”  She then opened the door and disappeared inside.