Bathroom Breaks: The Tale of Beth and Ashley

Bathroom Breaks

I stand in front of my best friend's mirror, studying the both of us as she adds a coat of strawberry lip gloss to her already glossy lips. I remember a time where Ashley's hair wasn't neon orange and she didn't actually apply the lip gloss, just inhaled the fruitiness. We were so much smaller back then and wore our hair in matching twin buns. For some reason, this makes me feel very sad. Maybe it's because the both us recently turned sixteen, that age everyone is so crazy about. I'm still not sure why it's such a significant age. In my opinion, eighteen seems so much more symbolic.

"Beth, why are you staring at me funny?" Ashley looks at me through her fringe, her brows pinched. "If you don't want to be here, just leave."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "I was just thinking."

"You're always thinking. I think you think too much." Ashley purses her lips, leaning against me to get closer to the mirror. Her bathroom is quite small, with only a few feet of walking space around the toilet, sink, and shower. Makeup is scattered in small mountains along the short countertop, and towels and dirty shirts lay limply on the stained tile floor. I have to admit that Ashley isn't the cleanest of people.

I pick up a tube of mascara and twist the cap around idly. "Are you ready now? Like, it's your party, shouldn't you be welcoming people?"

Ashley rolls her eyes. I really don't like how eye-rolling looks or feels; it seems excessive and kind of gross, but it's one of Ashley's favourite things to do. "No, I shouldn't welcome people. People just show up. Have you ever been to a party, Beth?"

"No."

She blinks. "Oh, right." She straightens up, tucks her hair behind her ear, then looks at me expectantly. "Come on, let's go."

**********

Ashley's sweaty hands are around my arms, pulling me back into the bathroom. Downstairs, while I was talking to a sweet guy named Patrick, she walked through her back screen door giggling uncontrollably while demanding that I go to the bathroom with her because she wants to tell me something. Ashley is one of those girls who will always have something to tell you, and you better believe the place she tells you the thing will be the bathroom.

Wrapping a skinny arm around my waist, she points at ourselves through the grimy mirror. "See? Look at you, you're smiling. You're having fun."

I look at myself, mostly because she said to. My cheeks are a bit red, my blonde hair is a bit messy, and I am sort of smiling. I am having fun. Talking to Patrick has been incredible. He and I are the only ones abstaining from alcohol, so our conversations are in-depth and coherent. "Yeah, I am having fun," I say it over and over in my head. I'm having fun. I'm having fun. I'mhavingfunI'mhavingfunI'mhavingfun. I start to giggle.

Ashley gives me a weird look, but then she starts laughing, too. "Oh my god, you're not even drinking!" She pauses, "maybe you should. I mean, you and Patrick seem to be getting along, huh? Maybe it would help." She waggles her eyebrows at me.

Patrick and I have been getting along great, and I do think he's cute. I mean, his personality is just stellar, and when we were talking on the couch he held my hand. I can't help but hope maybe something could happen between us. Not like a one night stand or anything, that's not how I want my first time to be, but a friendship that might grow into a relationship would be nice.

Boys have never really taken an interest in me before, so this is kind of new. They usually go for girls like Ashley who are sexy and confident and adventurous. I'm none of those things. My ideal date, if I were to ever go on one, would be to stay home and watch movies. The idea of me drinking to make me 'easier' makes my skin crawl. That's not how I want to be at all. I want to be myself, because that's what you're supposed to want to be liked for, right?