Sarah slept like a hurricane in sheets. Donald was acting very distracted after the show, and Sarah was traumatized, so they quickly parted ways without much ado. She stayed in bed all the next day, and only got up that evening to meet some friends at Molly's Pub.
These friends were actually former coworkers. The only time she ever saw them was at a bar. Jackie was there, too. How was she ever going to explain this to Jackie?
As the torrent of speech began, Sarah put on a smile. It was an old, familiar smile, but it felt so heavy now. The back of her neck was tightening, trying to hold it up. She couldn't maintain this all evening.
She thought a moment about what these people were saying. It was so incredibly boring, so boring that her brain had difficulty motivating itself to distinguish the actual words they were saying. In fact, it was less boring just to listen to the rhythmic, nasal noise they made. Putting in a little effort, she was able to make out "Brad Pitt," and just a few moments later, "Palm Pilot," and then, "No, the F will get you cross town and that's a block closer…" "a long block."
How could she possibly listen long enough to contribute to this conversation? Would they ever notice? Did she ever contribute? Yes, she did. Only recently did she lose her tolerance for boredom. Only recently did her spine begin to buckle under the weight of smiles.
The beer helped. The beer was how she did it, how she got through an entire evening, how she dulled her sparkling mind into submission. She was a connoisseur of beer. She had tasted over fifty different kinds of wheat beer alone, and could provide a detailed critique of each one, which she often did. Perhaps that was how she survived, by being the most boring woman at the bar.
She accidentally made eye contact with Kelly. What was she saying? "I read it in two nights." But her eyes were saying something else. They were saying, "I'm just like you. I'm trapped. Help me."
And Sarah knew, she finally understood with her whole heart that these women were not robots. They were living, feeling human souls trapped in robotic shells, forced by their bodies into crushing routines of dullness. Imagine, all these emotive humans, just inches away, and she was as lonely as a little star on the edge of the Universe.
Kelly was getting all wet. No, it was Sarah's eyes welling up with tears, just as she had welled up with compassion for her fellows. The most amazing thing about all this was that they were just as bored as she was. All of them, suffering, thinking how boring everyone else was, admiring Jackie, the exciting one, because they all knew she must be bored and adored her for sitting with them anyway. Why can't all their friends be like Jackie? Then Jackie wouldn't have to be bored, and they wouldn't have to be bored.
How warm it was for Sarah to be inside their heads, these women she had despised for so long! How heavy those smiles! A smile with no happiness to lift it weighs on the soul. How many thousands had she carried?
"Are you okay?" asked Kelly. She must have noticed Sarah's tears. God bless her.
"Yes," Sarah replied. "I'm just going through a transition." She could feel the women bracing themselves. Was poor Sarah going to display a negative emotion? They prepared their pity for her.
"What transition?" asked Kelly.
"I don't know. I just can't keep pretending that Brad Pitt is important, that television is important."
"Television's my link to the world, honey," said Jackie.
"The world is right here in front of you," said Sarah. "You can't take a step without stepping on the world. You've never come anywhere close to Brad Pitt, but you could put your hand out and touch me right now."
Jackie reached out and touched her on the cheek. "Ay!" she screamed laughingly. "You're hot tonight, baby! Now, if you'd only been listening, you'd know that I'm more of a Nicholas Cage kinda gal. Shit, you must've got riled up at that Miss Roc Show with that new man of yours."
"Jesus," said Sarah.
"Honey, I think you should call him Donald."
"But I'm worried that he really is Jesus. Wait 'til you see the show!"
"Honey, trust me. You don't want to date no Jesus. Just a nice boy."