Contest RecapMidlife Collage sponsors a weekly contest of midlife short stories. U.S. citizens and legal residents age 40 and older may enter. The Editor selects five stories for publication on our website each week. Readers leave comments and Facebook thumbs-up likes urging the panel of Judges to choose a contest winner. Readers also send the Judges their opinions of the best story on our Closing Arguments page. The contest period is Monday through Sunday noon PT. The first-place story enters the Winner’s Circle and receives a cash prize of $50. Winners of a $50 cash prize are eliglble for a $100 contest, which we run quarterly. See the Submissions Page for the Contest Rules for details. ANYONE, worldwide, age 18 or older can comment on the stories in a contest.
The margarita was cold in my hand, which was a welcome sensation in this current situation. I hadn’t been “out with the girls” in quite a while, a couple decades. The idea that any one of these overgrown chipmunks would ask me to dance with them made me want to dump out my drink and shoot straight for the double doors. Susie and Wanda were having a good time, talking with the customers from the restaurant where we worked together, although they hardly recognized us with our current attire and hair-do’s. Even though I was laughing and sucking down alcohol like I was sitting in Charlene’s apartment back at Georgia Southern, I still felt uneasy and out of place.
Susie grabbed my shoulder, “Trina, come to the ladies room with me. If I take another sip, my bladder’s gonna explode!”
I laughed and pushed my box-dyed blonde hair off my shoulders, “Okay Susie-Q, just don’t fall down because I’m not catching you.”
We left Wanda with her gentlemen caller, who had graciously bought us a couple of rounds. We made our way to the ladies bathroom, passing by the pool tables. There, in the dimly lit bar, were two young men, probably in their mid-twenties, drinking and smoking, entertaining themselves by pretending they were hot shots at pool. Susie made a crude comment about the young men as we went inside the ladies room, generating a blush and a small giggle from me.
We finished our girl time, primping our hair and talking about the strange older man who wouldn’t stop asking Susie to dance. We made our way out the door, and these young men now had their backs turned to us, obviously taking a break from their nail-biting game. As we walked past, gliding gracefully to our table, we heard one young man say to the other, “Did you see that blonde in the black shirt, the finest thing to EVER walk into this bar!”
Susie snapped her head in my direction, seeing how red my face had turned, she smirked, “Well, it looks like someone hasn’t lost her touch.”
Needless to say, my confidence is a little—overconfident now.