Mary and Daphne #116

“I know what you’re doing,” I told Mary because I knew what she was doing and wanted her to know I knew what she was doing. And she knew I knew and that I wanted her to know, and I knew that wouldn’t change her mind. A lot of knowing glances passed between us.

“I know you don’t want to go,” she said like I didn’t know what she was really up to. “If I’m wrong, you’re welcome to come.”

Mary, or really Mary’s company, had decided it was time for people to glimpse their coworkers in person, so Mary had arranged to meet her team at one of those places that had discovered the remunerative possibilities of al fresco dining and was going to treat her team of vaccinated coworkers to dinner. I’m not sure if she has five people on her team or twenty, not that it matters. Mary told me about the outing in that special way of hers that makes it even less appealing to me than work functions always are.

“Are people bringing their partners,” I asked.

“Some, but you don’t have to go. It’ll just be people talking about tech stuff. I know you hate that.”

“I don’t hate it. I just have no idea what anybody’s talking about and get bored and dizzy from smiling and nodding my head to not seem like a total dolt. Besides, you’re the boss now. You probably have to … do boss stuff.”

“‘Boss stuff?’”

“Host and what not.” Not sure why that word eluded me for a sec.

“Yeah, probably, so you can just skip it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal. Stay home. In fact, why not invite Sandy over and have a girl’s night.”

That would be the part that I knew she was doing, or rather leading up to, and that I knew she knew that I knew. ‘I have a work thing blah blah blah. You don’t wanna go to my work thing blah blah blah. And o hey, why not invite over the woman who babysits for you except we don’t call it that because pretense is fun blah blah blah.’

To which I say, urgh!

But also, I didn’t wanna go. Not that just about anything at this point is more fun than spending yet more time at home, but I just … don’t want to go to a work function. I didn’t like them before, and now that I’m retired or whatever this is, I just think … I feel like I don’t belong. I get this is probably my own hang up, but I feel people will judge me for not working. I’m still young (though not a little girl!) and it’s not even like I’m staying home watching kids or even that I’m some wealthy lady of leisure who spends her time planning the next debutante ball and raising money for charities that don’t really need to exist.

I am, instead, a lady of leisure who decides how to fill her time on a day-to-day basis. Sorta like a retiree, but instead of paying my dues for forty years and retiring, I got fed up and quit and am letting my partner support us, and hence I’m not comfortable going to a work function where I’ll just be, to everyone else’s eye but Mary’s, the unemployed person or quitter or something. Probably not, but that’s my insecurity.

But make no mistake, it’s not like I’m insecure about my life choice or anything. Um, really.

“I can stay home alone, ya know,” I told my Mary. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“She’s not a babysitter. It’s just two friends hanging out.”

“O yeah? Do any of our other friends spank me when they think I’ve misbehaved?” Hmm. Mary’s ya-wanna-ask-that-again face. “Okay, bad example, but she is too, and you guys won’t ever say it. Besides, I’ve barely gotten any alone time in over a year.”

“You’ve barely gotten any time with friends in over a year too. The doctor said you could be with other vaccinated people indoors, and I know Sandy would love to come hang out.”

“She’s gonna find some excuse to punish me.” See, Sandy is on Mary’s list of people who can discipline me, and that basically means they have the same rights as Mary and that I have the same obligation to obey. I disobeyed one of them once, and when Mary found out … well, they took turns and it hurt and convinced me never to disobey again. Not saying that lesson lasted very long, but for a whole forty-eight hours, give or take about thirty, I obeyed to the letter.

“Not if you’re on your best behavior.”

“I’m not going to be on my best behavior, though. I’m gonna punch her right in the nose.” Yep. I shall fetch her a very sharp blow upon her nose.

“What? Why would you do that?”

“Because this is all her fault! The pullups, the diapers – she talked you into it and don’t you make a face like you have no idea what I’m talking about. I saw her give you the thing that one time at Brenna’s and the very next weekend you sprung that darn pullup on me before the winery.”

“Ha. Yeah …” Mary’s weren’t-those-good-times-face.

“They were not good times!”

“Yeah, they were, and I think you think so too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too, and I bet I can get you say it.”

Crap! Mary’s-I’m-about-to-pounce-on-you face. “Don’t you eeee! Marrrry! Heeheehee! Stop - heeeheeeee ticking me - hahahaheeeee! Eeeee! F-fine! Heehee! She can come over heeheehee! Stop!”

“What’ll ya give me if I stop?”

“All the heeeheee all the things!”

“Deal.”

“Hmmph! One day someone bigger than you is gonna come along and pounce on you and tickle you and I’m not gonna stop ‘em.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Yeah …” Someone pouncing on my Mary? I’d hit ‘em with the floor.

“Hey Daff, as long as you’re underneath me …”

“Yeah?” Ooo! She really does like me! I can tell.