Concessions I

Ally becomes so engrossed in staring at the butterfly on Marianne Martin’s arm that she trips over the feet of the woman standing next to her at the neighborhood block party and falls down.

“Sweetie, you’ve had too much,” the woman says.  And it seems that all of the women tell her the same thing too.  She shoos away their outstretched hands as if they are made of flies and dusts off as if it is part of the act. 

And when she gets up, she looks away from them and from Marianne too and chatters about Don’s dinner as if nothing has happened.  To hear Ally go on about Don’s chili is like hearing about the birth of a royal child or the naming of a new pope.

“Cowbell," Ally says, "Dinner’s on.”  She doesn’t recognize her voice.  It sounds too high pitched.  She thinks it must be nerves.  And when she dares to make eye contact with the other women, she discovers they’ve wandered off.

From across the yard she hears her nemesis say, “Let’s eat.”  She hates that voice.  It isn’t a joke, and it embraces everyone.

Ally is grateful she bought a brand new tube of waterproof mascara.  She drifts away from the food and people to the place where Marianne and the boys played in the horseshoe of land, in the spot that seemed shadier than where she and the other women had hung out.  And here she dips her hand into Marianne’s cooler and touches all of that woman’s frosty beer.  The one Ally picks is as cool to the touch as she imagined, she presses it to her lips and feels dirtier than ever, like she just kissed one of Marianne’s admirers.  Marianne’s butterfly comes alive and whispers in her ear, “You’re not too old for pixie cuts and tattoos.”

Ally glances over to where Marianne winks and dazzles everyone and she is sure the butterfly will gossip how she stole one of Marianne’s beers.  She polishes off the bottle and stares at Marianne and the men in line.

Ally remembers when she had attitude too, young attitude, when it was the four of them, her and Frank and Eddie and Grizelda.  They were the twenty-something somebodies until the day she and Frank got married and Grizelda called, early.