She utters grumpily, “How should I know? All I know is that this is hell’s kitchen.”
“It is not hell cuz there’s no fire and it is definitely not filled with men. Everybody knows that all the men are in hell!” I say with laughter colouring my voice. She laughs too. Her smile lights up her face. She looks vaguely familiar.
“Are you really my friend?” I ask.
“Hell if I know,” she answers and we guffaw.
I like her laugh and ask her if she wants to be friends with me. She agrees.
I tell her I am Aurora, but the Divas called me ‘Rory’. I ask her name.
“Bess like Queen Elizabeth I,” she brags.
“Bess!” I exclaim. “My dear sister-like friend was named Bess and she was a founding member of the Divas like me.”
Bess tells me she too was a founding member of the Divas. Maybe she is my Bess. I ask if she remembers me being a Diva.
She answers, “You look a bit familiar, and I definitely remember that weird name.”
“My name is distinctive, not weird.” We have a giggle.
Bess asks me my age in an almost sympathetic way.
“I am of vintage age, and what is yours?”
“I am aged to perfection!”
We both chuckle and I say her answer is so Bess-like, referring to my long time, years-gone-by friend Bess.
Food is served but it has no taste. I complain.
My new friend says, “It is really dog food,” and she barks. We explode with laughter.
When our meal is mostly done, I inquire, “As we are old friends, can I ask you a very sensitive question? But first, can you keep it a secret?”
“Sure, that’s easy because I cannot remember much of anything,” she answers chuckling.
“What is the question, for heaven sakes a… a.. oh damn, what is your name again?”
Bess is embarrassed because she can’t remember my name.
“It’s Rory. I don’t remember yours either,” I lie to her because I want her to feel ok about forgetting my name. Bess is a name I will never forget.
“Now are you ready for my question? How many years does it take to qualify as a born-again virgin?”
We roar hysterically, tears cascading down our cheeks. Others, who have no idea why we are laughing, join in our merriment just for the heck of it. The room fills with the magical sound of laughter.
In the background, music starts to play. I do not remember the name of the instrument being played. Liberace comes to mind, whoever the hell he was. Oh yes, I remember that my grandmother loved him, so he must’ve been popular back in the Stone Age. Yes, yes I remember it now, the instrument is a piano.
Somebody shouts, “Play Elvis Presley.”
The pianist (yes,I remember that word) plays, “Love Me Tender.”
People start to sing.
“Do you know the words?” I ask my friend whose name I have forgotten.
“Not anymore, but let’s fake it,” she says.
We sing whatever words pop out of our mouths, mixed with giggles.
We are young again and what fun we are having.
“Hey, I hear a familiar voice. Can you hear it? It sounds like our diva Jude. Oh, wouldn’t that be grand if she were here and Gracie too? Maybe even Ange is here. Let’s see if we can find them after.”
It’s turning out to be a good day to be alive. I am glad I woke up.
The End
“We’ll be friends until we’re old and senile, then we’ll be new friends.” anonymous
