"You're comin'," she growled.  "You're gettin' get your wimpy little Diva ass out to that bar or I'm gonna pop you one, I swear." I knew Trixie meant business, because she was getting all "Brooklyn" on me. 

"You know me, Trixie.  I don't last past 9:30.  Besides, it's a school night. "

Trixie sighed.  It was a loud sigh, the kind they might have heard in Detroit. "For someone who eats as much kale and does as much yoga as you, you should have a little more energy than that. Doncha think?"   

"I'm up at 4:30 in the morning.  I'm not a night person."

"What the hell are you doin' up at 4:30?"

"Uh…meditating," I replied, knowing there would be a harsh repercussion for my truth.

"I can't…I just…can't…" Trixie stammered. I could hear her slapping her own forehead from the other end of the phone.     

"OK. I'll come.  I'll come for an hour." 

Trixie was right.  We could not let Alice sit at that bar by herself.  Alice's husband, a musician, was playing at a local pub, and Alice used the event to stage a Divas night out.  Except no other Divas committed to going.  Divas can't let Divas sit at bars by themselves when it's supposed to be Divas night out.

I pulled into the parking lot at 8:45, which is usually the time I begin to unwind, if I am not already asleep.   I decided I would try to make it until 10pm.  Balthazar would just be getting started at 10, I reminded myself. 

Alice and Trixie already have a table.  Trixie rolls her eyes at me.   She has a baby doll face and dark curly hair.  "I was beginning to think you wimped out on us."

Alice jumps out of her seat.  "I'm so happy you came!"  Alice, with her bright hazel eyes and long auburn hair, grabs my hands and squeezes them.  Her girl next store good looks and bubbly kindness are the legend of Tom Petty song lyrics. 

Alice pulls out her wallet.  "Sangria, guys?" 

"I'll stick with seltzer," I reply. 

"What is wrong with you?"  Trixie snarls.  "It's Sangria! It's fruit!"

"It's sugar,"  I say.  "Sugar's crap."

Trixie leans into me from the other side of the table.

"If you had gone to my high school in my zip code, you would have gotten the shit knocked out of you every day, of your life."

"Back in high school," I say,  "I drank more than both of you put together, smoked a pack a day, and ate Oreos for breakfast." 

A huge smile appears on Alice's face. "The Fierce Diva had a wild side?  Who knew?"

"Read my blog.  It's all there, "  I reply. 

"You'd still be getting the shit beaten out of you," Trixie replies.  "Wimpy ass Diva."

 "No, I wouldn't, " I say, "Because you would have had my back."

Trixie softens.  She smiles and raises her Sangria glass, amongst the drinks that the server has left for us. Alice raises hers, and I raise my cup of seltzer.        

Despite our external differences, these are two of my dearest friends.  These are the Divas I can rely on, when my husband is in the hospital, to be at the bus stop to take my kids.  They listen when I have something I need to get off my chest.  They are the Divas who understand my quirks,  my obsession with Kale, my total inability to stay out past 9:30 at night,  my snobbish aversion to processed foods, and love me anyway. We're not necessarily "like minded" on all fronts,  yet we're open minded to the views of each other, and we show up when it matters.  I love these women, and they have both helped make the town that I moved to 8 years ago my home.

I last more than the hour I committed to.  It's 11:23 when I head to my car.  I would have told you 11:30 to round off the number, but Trixie would have called me on that, for sure. 

Balthazar would be proud.

Namaste, Divas!

© 2012 Ilene Evans 

Thank you Densise for the Link up!