Swallow, Alice told herself, consciously reminding herself to act like everything was normal. Happy. Even keel. Charming. The kind of girl people would expect to find on a date with a handsome and wealthy attorney in an upscale bar in northwest Washington DC on a Friday night. The kind of girl who knew what to order and how to pronounce it. Who knew how to pick out the right outfit to wear on the date in the upscale bar while ordering the right thing. The kind of girl people liked to be around, who knew what to say, who laughed at the right time and could make her date laugh while flipping her hair. A girl who was certainly not her.

Hidden deep in Alice’s purse was proof of the true person she was, a photograph of her, aged seven. Her face is dirty and her eyes are sad, but she is dressed in a clean, new purple jumper and spotless white tights with patent leather Mary Janes. Her grandparents had come over unexpectedly on her birthday, with new clothes for her and an envelope of cash for her mother. The money would be gone before they made it out of the city limits. She carried it around with her especially on days of big accomplishments or milestones. Starting a new job. A big test. Graduation. A date with a very handsome and wealthy man. She supposed it was like a hair shirt, pain to remind her never to get ahead of herself or expect too much, because some part of her would always be that dirty faced, sad little girl. It didn’t matter how shiny her shoes were or how expensive the cashmere was.

Guilt washed over her as she realized while her mind had been wandering, her date had been talking without her hearing a word. Her therapist would say that this was a moment of ego and mindfulness would break her out of it. She chose to chug her chardonnay instead. She focused in on what he was saying, a story about issues on the metro on his way to work this morning and how the system wouldn’t have any of these issues if it was privatized what did you expect from a structure run by the government. Alice was a liberal, and worked for the federal government, and her date knew all of this - at least, it had been in the bio of the dating profile he had swiped right on and said was so attractive. She was not going to remind him though, that is not what the kind of girl people expected in this kind of bar with this kind of man to do. She smiled and said, you make a really good point, I never thought about it that way. The waiter asked if they wanted another round and Alice nodded before he finished the question, the third of what would likely be five or six. Until she was the kind of girl who would be whatever he wanted. The kind of girl who couldn’t feel anymore. Until the headache tomorrow morning.