20 Million Tiny Particles

22. Dinner

Dinner was serve-and-seat-yourself, which I found to be a boldly declassé move for a professional conference (but what did I know). We arrived in the great hall, adorned with the same balloons as before but now arranged with circular tables throughout and long buffets against the walls. "Let's find Abby and Grace before we get seats," Sheridan instructed, speaking of her new friends.

I wondered what it must be like to meet new people so easily as she led me through the crowds; I was never the kind of person who attracted new friends at every turn. Mom was. Ava is. It's not for lack of trying on my part -- there just seems to be an ease that I'm missing. Some cog in the social realm of my brain that doesn't turn the same way as theirs.

Sheridan found the two new girls, both brunettes with trendy black ensembles, and greeted them with hugs. She introduced me as her friend Julie from home, and off we went into the new part of the evening.

Our plates delicately ladened with salads, the four of us found seats together. I immediately slid into the background of conversation as the girls gossiped about others in the sessions they attended together today, filling me in graciously as they sped through their stories. They were so busy chatting that I finished my first plate well before they did, so I kept my hands busy by drinking more and more of the ice water in front of me. There were two seats left at our table, but no others had joined us. Since we'd gotten to dinner somewhat early, and the lines at the salad bar were growing longer, I wasn't sure they'd remain empty.

After a few minutes, a cater-waiter in a stained white button-down approached our table with wine glasses. "Ma'am?" he addressed Abby (or was it Grace?) first. "Anything besides water tonight?"

She brushed her dark hair over her shoulder and gave him a squinty-eyed smile. "What white wines do you have?" she asked easily.

"Pinot grigio and chardonnay, ma'am."

"I'll take pinot grigio, please."

"Same for me," chimed the other girl.

He was setting their glasses down in front of them. "Of course. And for you?" He looked to Sheridan.

"Chardonnay," she told him. She looked to me. "Her as well."

I didn't have time to raise an eyebrow before the waiter was nodding. "I'll be right back with those, ladies. And I'll just need to see some IDs if you don't mind."

The girls reached into their purses simultaneously. Sheridan, not missing a beat, looked toward me with faux-panic. "Oh shoot, you left your purse in the room." She looked at the waiter with a pout. "We weren't sure if we'd need our wallets," she explained. "She didn't have a purse that matched."

"Oh, it's okay," I started, knowing full well I was interrupting her own apparently planned skit. "I can have water."

She cut me off, talking to the waiter still. "Can you let it slide tonight? We'll make sure we bring it tomorrow night."

He sighed a little and looked at her fake license, then quickly glanced at the other girls' (were they fake too?). "Not a problem. I'll be right back, girls."

I wondered if the "girls" comment was pointed. Did he know we were frauds? Maybe he didn't care. This was just a weekend gig for him anyway, I guessed.

Sheridan toyed with a piece of lettuce in her salad. "Don't forget your wallet next time, Julie," she said to me with a smirk.

A moment after the waiter deposited our white wines on the table, I looked up to see a familiar face across the room. "Oh, look, it's the girl from the elevator," said Sheridan, seeing her at the same time.