Catch-22 | SFK

I

"Just a double vodka soda for now, please." You said, drumming your fingertips against the countertop. She gave a curt nod, rushing away to fix the drink. Whether her speed was because she wanted to get rid of you or because she wanted to provide five-star customer service was neither here nor there. Within a minute, she sat a frosty glass of liquid courage before you and was already offering to start a tab. With hesitancy, you slipped the bill back in your pocket and agreed to pay later, handing her your credit card instead. You were aiming for a drink and dash, but you figured you shouldn't walk into an interaction with such negativity. For all you knew, the night could be the best time you had during your visit home.

'That would be pathetic.' You shut the thought down as soon as it surfaced.

With the glass in your hand, you turned towards the crowd. Your eyes scanned the bodies, aiming to locate your company for the night, but knowing that you would be just as content if they decided not to show. After a moment, you heard your name over the mess of drunken chatter and shitty music. Your head turned in the direction of the sound, locating a group of girls in a corner booth. You forced yourself to smile, sipping on your straw as you stepped towards them. A whirlwind of emotion struck you once you were within earshot of their conversation, only questioning yourself more as the seconds continued to pass by. Before you could convince yourself to turn and run, they slid over and invited you in.

"Well hello, y/n." A bubbly blonde greeted. Her name was Beth, and in middle school, she had started dating a boy named Jack. You could recall the toxic, jealous display the two often engaged in and the cheating scandals that seemed to surface every other week. When you all graduated, he joined the military right after he popped the big question. They were married two months later and had their first kid seven months after the graduation ceremony. Now, she was a stay at home mom with three kids and a blog about her family life, which to you just seemed like a huge cry for help.

"Hi," you smiled, settling into the booth.

"We were so happy to hear that you could make it." Another girl spoke, Allyson (the 'y' was very much important to her identity as she liked to remind everyone, although you did remember her spelling it with an 'I' until high school), with fake ginger hair and so much plastic surgery that she was nearly unrecognizable in comparison to your early days. She came from a rich family, one who never taught her much about hard work or discipline. She considered herself a professional social media influencer, which she claimed paid for the mansion she now lived in. You all knew her parents gifted it to her, yet nobody seemed keen on calling her on her bullshit. But, she was gorgeous, and she did take some damn good pictures from what you had seen on her Instagram. You never minded her much in school.

"Yeah, I was really happy to get the invitation." You forced through your teeth, still wondering why you came at all.

"How's life at UMichigan?" The last woman spoke, voice quiet and genuinely curious. You looked to your side, eyes softening at the sight. It was your best friend from elementary school, someone in which you shared lots of dreams about being an astronaut over juice boxes and Barbie dream houses. You didn't see much of her once middle school came around; she loved soccer, and you loved the library. The world played its part in your separation, yet there never seemed to be any ill feelings about the shattered friendship. Her name was Sarah, and she was admittedly still the prettiest woman you had ever seen. She went to community college and worked at a daycare somewhere around town. Strangely enough, even after years of radio silence in grade school, once you both graduated, you remained in contact. She was one of the few people from Frankenmuth that you kept any kind of contact with, even if it was minimal. (In truth, it was really only the occasional 'how are you' and funny pictures sent through social media, but contact is contact, right?)