WRITING STYLE

“Did you ever read that book?” Pam asks, taking a sip of her hot tea.

“What book?” says Susan (we are both Susan). She picks another French fry off my plate.

It is an unwritten rule of our lunches—one of us must order fries so we can all share. We’ve been a writing group for 30 years but today is simply a lunch celebrating friendship.

To stay Covid safe, we sit on the patio looking out at the Catalina Mountains. We wear casually elegant clothes and almost-matching necklaces that Susan designed years ago.

“You know, that book . . .” Pam waves her hand at us as if summoning the elusive title.

“How many syllables?” I tease.

“Sounds like?” Susan puts a hand to her ear.

“Ahhh!” Pam throws up her hands. “She wrote about her college years.” She scowls. “I can see the cover in my mind, for heaven’s sake!”

“Maybe we’d all better learn sign language,” I giggle. “Can you imagine what we’ll be like in another five years?”

“In another five years, I’ll be happy to just not be drooling in my oatmeal,” Susan laughs.

We are all giggling now.

“Untamed? By Glennon Doyle?” Susan offers.

“Not that one. But I liked that one.” Pam snorts with laughter. “This is an old book.”

“Like us,” I say.

The waiter hesitates. He is carrying the tiramisu we will share. He drops it between us with three forks and scurries away.

We laugh some more and dig into dessert.

Suddenly it is time to go. Susan needs to nap before an evening meeting and Pam and I have doctor appointments.

We hug and kiss before climbing into our cars. Three hours disappeared almost as quickly as have the 30 years.

As I pull into the doctor office parking lot, my phone pings.

“Mary Carr—Liars Club,” Pam texts.

Maybe we won’t have to learn sign language after all.

© Susan Luzader 2022