Page 1 of Now and Then

1

Sutton

“It’s just you and me tonight, Don,” I say to my drink, twirling my shot glass across the dark mahogany bar. Sparkling lights bounce across the surface of the golden liquid, spiraling like my thoughts. I tap my phone screen. It’s late, later than I ever choose to go out in public alone. But after the day I’ve had, the last thing I plan on doing is begging my girlfriends to join me while I drown my sorrows in as much Don Julio as I can stand.

I enter my phone’s password, and the screen sparks to life, glowing brightly. The three words I’ve come to loathe glare back at me from the offending email, and I set my phone face down on the bar. I inhale deeply, toss back the honey-toned liquid, and slide the glass across the counter. “Pour me another, Joe.”

Joe doesn’t say anything as he refills my glass, but I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow in that dad way. The I love you, but look, the one with the judgy eyes.

“What’s that look for?” I beckon him to pass the shot.

“No look, Sutton. No look at all.” He swipes a dingy white cloth over the counter, cleaning up nonexistent spills. “Haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”

“Yeah.” I toss back the shot and slam the glass down on the counter. “Don over here requested my presence.”

Joe braces his hands on the bar and leans toward me. A guilty buzzing starts in my stomach. Whether it’s the tequila or the stern look he’s giving me is yet to be determined.

Joe has run this bar for as long as I can remember. He and Dad were best friends, at least they were until Dad died six years ago. I grew up watching Joe give the look to my brother, Luke, and his friend Hunter, but not me, never me. I was the perfect daughter.

“You okay?” Joe asks.

He can nudge me to open up all he wants, but he should know by now I don’t easily offer up my pain, my secrets. “Completely fine,” I lie. “Just celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating?”

I don’t like his use of we. I’m not in the mood to be a we tonight. This pity party only has room for one. I mentally fortify my defensive walls and put on my best Sutton-like smile. “Oh, you know, just the fact that I closed on another house and have two others under contract.”

“That’s amazing. You were born to be a realtor, Sutton.” Joe nods to my shot glass. “And I’m going to pretend that you celebrating is the real reason you’re drinking that tequila. Don’t beat yourself up too much.” He taps the counter with his knuckles and heads to the other end of the bar to serve a few bikers.

“Was I born to be a realtor though?” I say aloud to no one.

Growing up, I was the girl who was naturally good at everything I tried. Good grades. Lots of clubs. Teachers who adored me. I played Sutton Bradley, perfect girl with the great smile and endless energy, and I played her well.

What most people didn’t know was that I was just going through the motions. And today, I feel like I still am.

Back then, I dreaded the question What do you want to be when you grow up?

It felt like someone had parked a bus on my chest every time I had to come up with an answer. I liked a lot of things but could never picture myself doing any of them forever.

But I became good at answering anyway.

Princess.

Teacher.

Garbage truck driver.

Whatever made them smile and stop asking.

When I was younger, it was fun trying on future versions of myself, like dresses in a fitting room, even though they never fit. But the older I got, the less acceptable not knowing became.

“Man,” I say, “it’s hot in here.” I slip my arms from my black suit jacket and roll up my white shirt cuffs.

“It could also be the tequila,” the man one barstool over from me mumble-laughs.

“Could be.” I fold my manicured hands in front of me.

“You’re a realtor?” Mystery Man is wearing a baseball hat low on his head paired with some kind of neighborhood baseball league jersey and jeans.