Smaller than expected

This is stupid. I wrote it in fits and starts, and I don’t like any of the characters. It was a slog.

The bar had the familiar stale smell of all drinking establishments: a mix of yeast and wood; decades of spilled fermentations absorbed into floors and counters. She’d found a booth toward the back, just outside the game room. The tech bros had descended on the pool table, their hoodies emblazoned with company names constructed from adverbs or curiously missing vowels. The billiard balls cracked against one another, and good shots were punctuated by guttural exclamations.

Polly sat quietly, nervously. She was nursing a vodka and soda and checking her phone. They’d planned to meet at 5:30 to beat the after-work crowd, but it seemed like there was no “after-work” crowd anymore. There were just people, everywhere, at all hours in this town. She was lucky to get the table at all, and she knew if she left it for a moment—even for a quick run to the restroom—she’d lose it. It was twilight at the watering hole, and all of the animals of the Silicon Serengeti were jockeying for position. Her phone informed her It was a little after 6:00; she hoped her friends would get there soon. She had to pee.

One of the bros popped his head around the corner from the game room. Eyeing Polly’s barren table, he slapped his hands on the back of one of the empty chairs and dragged it toward the room, simultaneously asking, “Using this?” Polly managed to seat tackle the seat before the chair disappeared from sight.

“Actually, yes, I am,” she said, scraping it across the sticky floor and back to her table. “I’m expecting people.”

He held up his hands. “Okay, my bad,” he said.

Polly thought that based on the sneer on his face, he didn’t really think the bad belonged to him. “Sorry for existing,” she thought. She thumbed her phone again. A floating blue bubble informed her they were almost there; they were circling the bar looking for parking. Polly had anticipated this scenario and had opted for a Lyft. She was a bit miffed they hadn’t done the same. What were they thinking trying to park in this neighborhood?

She was just finishing up her drink when she saw them scramble through the bar doors. They stopped a few feet in, making the people who had followed them through the door stop suddenly and walk around them, earning dark looks and eye-rolls. The three women scanned the bar, letting their eyes adjust, and Polly stood and waved her hands over her head. All three of them saw her at the same time, and they raised their hands in front of their bodies, “jazz hands” style as if it had been choreographed.

As then ran toward Polly’s table in abbreviated, choppy steps, she extracted herself from her chair so she could greet each of them with a hug. They collapsed on her in a heap of screeches and congratulations, giving her exaggerated, swaying hugs and audibly kissing her close to her cheeks.

Daphne grabbed Polly’s left hand. “Okay, let’s see it!” she said, waggling her own bedazzled hand at Polly. The other girls clambered around, leaning on the table and peering at her finger. Polly obliged, raising her hand as if she expected each one of her friends to kiss it. There was a hush around the table.

“Oh,” Jules said, arranging her face back into a smile. “That’s just… lovely. That’s really nice,” she said and moved closer to her hand. “Is that… Is that a diamond?”

“Yes,” Polly said. “It’s a diamond. I mean, the main stone is.”

Rachel leaned in even closer. “What are the other stones around it?” she said. Polly made a seesaw motion with her hand to make the ring catch what little light was available.

“Peridot,” Polly said. “It’s my birthstone.”

“Oh,” Rachel said, sitting back in her chair. “It’s pretty.”

Polly glanced at her friends’ faces, feeling the enthusiasm leave the room. “You don’t like it?” She steadied her own left hand with the fingers of her right. She stared at her ring. It was beautiful. A small diamond surrounded by several pale green stones; it was delicate and flower-like.

Daphne took both of Polly’s hands in hers. “Well,” she said, looking around the table as if she were making a proclamation. “I think it’s adorable. I guess it’s just a little smaller than we expected.”

“Yes,” Jules agreed. “but it’s very cute.”

Polly frowned at them. It wasn’t a toy or a puppy. It was a symbol; one her husband-to-be worked hard to acquire, and one she was thrilled with.

Rachel, seeing Polly frown, put her arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry! You can make him get you a bigger one later. Maybe for your five-year anniversary!”

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