wrong place, right time

Happy Hour.
A blanket invitation to celebrate the beginning of a vacation is usually a definite no when it comes to rsvping--or attending. But after an exhausting, lonely week and evening rehearsal with nothing else planned until later, I figured, what the hell. There must be someone in attendance to hang with.
Wrong.
I show up and am the only one not wearing a sweater vest, ball cap or the school colors. Great.
So I sit down and order my usual, thinking I would be much better off drinking alone, as I usually do. I feign interest in topics discussed, make cell calls to family and friend hoping they pick up so I can excuse myself--to no avail. I make smalltalk while I order a double, and settle up quickly.

On the way home, I receive a warning of the old man's heart throb from years past, who will be staying in our house over the weekend. I could have predicted that three year's ago. And although I am not surprised--he continues to discuss inviting my parents over for the family Easter Egg Hunt--and oh, yeah, I can come too. I disconnect feeling angry and miserable--like losing everything in a crap shoot--and all I want is my girl. Just let me hold my girl.