Lychee vodka martinis

It was Monday night. I don’t know why I felt so worn out when all it marked was the end of a long weekend, which I spent at home catching up on some rest. But still I was feeling so exhausted. During the past weekend, through text, my friend Emily got in touch with me hustling up dinner with another good friend Gigi. I was sort of crabby with her because her text arrived when I was in the middle of writing something that demanded my full attention so my soul wasn’t in my response. In fact, I didn’t know where my soul was.

I think that has been my problem recently. I have been feeling somewhat scattered and I don’t know why. What is it that I really want? I don’t know, don’t really care either. But on Sunday night I decided I wanted to have a decent elegant straightforward dinner at a nice quiet restaurant, somewhere you went to with someone who was trying to make an impression on you. It has been, after all, around a million years since anyone tried to make an impression on me. I decided to choose the restaurant and to treat everybody to a fine dinner.

At around six I got a text from Gigi asking if I wanted her to pick me up. No, I said, I will walk but later you can take me home. I left home at 6:20 p.m. and ambled forward to the restaurant walking very slowly and merging with the after-work crowd. How nice to feel like one of them. I walked behind a woman who was wearing high heels and walking quickly. She must be in her forties, I estimated. I could still do that when I was in my forties. These days? Fit flops. I can walk around on nothing else. Otherwise I would need a cane.

I arrived at the restaurant first, decided to order myself a real drink. I asked for the drinks menu and was delighted to find they served lychee martinis. When I was teaching at a culinary school, I discovered the joy of lychee vodka martinis. I ordered one. The waiter came back excitedly to tell me that they had a promo on their martinis. If I ordered one I would get another free. Terrific! By then Gigi had arrived and I asked her if she wanted one. Her eyes lit up. We drank cool, refreshing, delicious vodka martinis. Omigod, that really felt so good.

Gigi also complained of total exhaustion. We each have our business concerns. Gigi exports things that are made of handmade paper. Emily makes communication plans for entities and I make costume jewelry. Emily and I have been friends for a long time. Gigi met us both when she took my writing classes, loved them, so she took my experimental class, which I called the Joy of Self-discovery. There she became close to Emily, too. 

After one martini, Gigi and I decided to order another. We also decided to look for Emily by text because she was already half-an-hour late. When she arrived we asked her if she wanted a lychee martini. She did. We ordered dinner.

Emily also complained of being extremely exhausted. What is it? I asked. Are we really just tired or this is what it feels like to get old? Gigi did not know because she was the youngest among us. Emily was no sure either and neither was I. It is, after all, the first time we are all growing old.

We got to talking about the books we were reading now. I said I had discovered Diane Chamberlain on Kindle and I enjoyed reading her stories. Emily said she didn’t like Fifty Shades of Grey. She got turned off by the erotica. Gigi said she like the two-and-a-half volumes but the third one sort of dragged. I liked the story, I said. After reading the third erotic part I decided to just skip those parts but I enjoyed the story. It could have been better constructed, yes, but nevertheless it was a good story.

Emily got her final martini. At the end of the evening we had two martinis each. No, we were not drunk but we were relaxed. I did not feel so tired anymore. So why do you think I am often so tired? I asked, nobody in particular. Since there was no response I said, I don’t want to find out why so I’m not going to a doctor. If anyone tells me that maybe I have cancer I know I will probably drop dead. No chemotherapy or radiation or anything for me. Let me die a natural death.

Me too, Emily said, only I worry about my grandchildren and my family. Who will take care of them?

That’s not your problem anymore, Ems, I said. They will find their way.

But in the end it was Gigi who had the best message of all. She texted saying she was off to bed and her martini dreams. I’ll bet they were delish.

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