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Framed in the background, a straight river with a thousand million concentrically overlapping waves, rippling together as rain fell out of the gloomy clouds, patternless to infinity. A playground, plastic and wood and steel, jungle gym and swings, slanted house; sitting damply in the invariably existing sandbox.I stood there, lost in the rain, until she tugged at my hand and we started forward. She. Her. The girl. For what would it be without one. As soaked as me. Ahead. Bolder, one must admit with a sense of chagrin. Younger, it must be said because everything counts and nothing does. Lovely and perfect regardless.The tent lies ahead, reaching into the sky, circusy and colourful, striped, slanted, big. The edges turned up slightly, bulging down and arcing up, water collected in the distended material, water balloons sighing with envy. She glances back at me, catching my gaze for a second. Something glistens in her eye slightly, from the rain probably; but maybe not. My breath. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and heard the barman's voice from behind her. "Alright ladies, break it up." To Jackie, he said, "Look, you're drunk. Get out now, or I'm calling the cops."Jackie whispered, "I'm going," and turned to wander unsteadily toward the front door.Cynthia's friend put down her pool cue and started to follow, but the barman walked in between them and said, "Betty, just go back to your game. If the boss finds out I let you in here, he'll fire me, and he'll press charges for the damage from the last brawl you started."Cynthia lay a hand on her friend's shoulder and said, "Betty, I don't want to get thrown out of here. It was hard enough to get you in here."Turning back to the table after a final, fiery glance at Jackie's retreating back, she said, "Fine, the bitch isn't worth it anyhow."Jackie breathed a sigh of relief, having sobered up enough to realize that she was in serious trouble, seeing the thoughtless competence with which the other woman held.
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