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STRAWS​

            As she waits to be seated at this new, expensive restaurant called La Tigre Affamata, all she can think about is paying. What if she draws the short straw? What if her credit card bounces back? What will her friends think? She and her friends are escorted to a white candle lit table, where she immediately looks at the menu, trying to find the least expensive item. Chicken with Verdure Condite…$18. 8 oz. Steak with Patate Stagionate…$23. Cavatappi with Marinara and Grana Padano…$14. When a friend asks the iconic “What are you guys getting?” she immediately replies:

            “I’m thinking the cavatappi. I’m not super hungry and pasta heats up nicely. But I could go with the chicken.”

            One of her friends laughs. “What? You’re not getting steak?”

            More laughter erupts as her friends sit shocked at her lack of enthusiasm for red meat.

            “No, I’m wanting to change my diet a bit. I’m trying to eat more variety. Plus, it helps my grocery cost and cuts down on prep time.”

            “But you’re not buying the groceries. They’re already bought. You only have to enjoy the fruits of someone else’s labor; no prep time except for letting your mouth water!”

            Her friends laugh again, and she nervously joins to fit in, but thinks that won’t happen.

            “I’ll think about it,” she says.

            The friends begin their own perusing of the menu, loudly discussing their options. “Lobster sounds good.”

            “I had that last night. What about the scallops?”

            “You don’t get enough. I prefer the shrimp.”

            She just stares. Quietly, she adds their meal costs as they jingle their golden bracelets and twist their diamond earrings. The fake pearls strangling her neck as her mind wanders. It’s all just paper to them. Why can’t they see that money is worth more than seafood? Don’t they have bills to pay or children to clothe? Don’t they see my worry?

            The waiter walks by the table with just enough speed to make the friends notice him.

            “Isn’t he cute?”

            “Kind of, but I wouldn’t marry a waiter. Why would anyone even date a waiter?”

            Again, laughter. But this time, she doesn’t join in. My first boyfriend was a server. It helped him get through college.

            The waiter comes back around and stops to ask if they want any appetizers. As customary, the ladies pick one to share.

            “We’ll have the calamari with lemon on the side please,” one friend orders.

            “Is that it? I haven’t eaten all day,” another exclaims.

            “Oh. Well then, we must get another just for you!”

            Listening to the discourse as they figure out what else to order, she slumps back in her chair with glassy eyes. That’s another $12!

            The waiter marches away to the swinging doors and the ladies begin talking again.

            “Did you see Mrs. MacKenzie last night? She came home last night without her husband!”

            The crowd draws in a quick breath.

            “I knew it! Something weird is going on between them. They were acting strange last weekend at the gala.”

            “Do you think it’s divorce?” ...