Summer at the Shore Leave Cafe by Abbie Williams Page A

phrase years ago when we decided, in middle school, to be each other’s if we never found our true loves.  Both men were married, with grown children, but apparently found the most happiness in one another’s company.
    â€œJo, you look beautiful,” Eddie told me, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned. “And Jillian, you too, darlin’ girl. Just like Joanie twenty years ago.” I was glad Mom hadn’t heard this offhand compliment, which Eddie would surely have delivered even if she’d been with us, bellied up to the bar.
    â€œWell thanks,” I told him, taking a long sip of the smooth golden beer.  “Mmmm, this hits the spot.”
    â€œJackie coming up later in the month?” Jim asked from the far side of Jillian, where he leaned against the bar to industriously apply chalk to the end of a pool cue.
    â€œYeah, yes, he probably will,” I responded, then took another long drink, in hopes he would abandon this line of questioning.
    â€œWell, have fun, ladies,” Jim added, and then made his leisurely way to the table, where his drink sat waiting. Eddie joined him minutes later, leaving us in relative peace.  The radio above the bar was crooning the local country station, out of Bemidji.  An older couple was chatting down the bar.  I sighed, and smoothed one hand over my hair, as though it had slipped out of place; my hair was straight and smooth, no hint of a wave, and it felt vaguely unfamiliar as it hung past my shoulder blades.  For most of my motherhood career, I’d kept it shoulder-length and in a tight ponytail.  It used to shine as blond as Jilly’s from the days on the lake, but was now a shade or two darker.
    â€œJo, it’s so nice to have you back home,” Jilly reflected again, nudging me with her shoulder. “It feels like the old days.”
    â€œIt does, kinda, doesn’t it?” I observed, though in the old days I’d had piles more confidence, a good tan and much perkier breasts.  It sounded so petty and material when I thought of it that way, but, I justified, my self-esteem had taken a huge hit and my pre-baby figure would have added untold amounts to my current outlook.  I sighed for a second time.
    â€œStop that,” Jilly admonished me, and I caught her eye in the Pabst Blue Ribbon mirror above the bar.  She gave me a look and then I turned to face her, smiling in spite of myself.
    â€œOkay, you’re right, no more self-pity,” I said.
    â€œYou want to do a couple shots, maybe go dancing? Scare up some trouble?” Jilly teased.
    â€œYeah, all the people we’d scare up trouble with are probably home with their kids,” I said.
    â€œOr already in bed,” she joked. “It is a Monday after all.”
    â€œIt’s good to be working again,” I said. “Truly, it gives me something to do so I don’t have to think. I don’t know how I got through the last five months since Christmas.”
    â€œYou’re a Davis at heart, remember,” Jilly said. “We get by on our own.”
    â€œI know, I know. I was never very good at getting by on my own though. I’m slowly starting to realize how much I depended on my husband. God, I don’t even have any friends in Chicago, at least not any of my own.”
    â€œWhy not?” my sister asked, studying me. She swirled the remaining beer in her glass, slowly, as though beginning a hypnosis routine.
    â€œI don’t know, motherhood, maybe. It’s so easy to blame that. All these years I’ve been so busy mothering and running around for them—not that I mind—but it’s hard to have a life.”
    â€œI mind!” Jilly said, reassuring me. “Clinty is demanding as hell most days, and he’s a teenager. Honestly, I can’t imagine having more than one child at a time.”
    â€œEven if Chris were still alive?” I asked. I was the only