I knew from the moment I heard their excessive laughter that they would become a great hinderance to my ability of concentrating on my reading. I wearily waited, and sure enough, they each took a seat on the table opposite mine. The coffee shop was relatively small, tucked away with an outdoor patio area consisting of four separate picnic tables. There was another girl about my age sitting outside who had lucked out, safely out of earshot of the soon-to-be gossip based conversation between two middle-aged women. I tried to keep my attention focused on the book I was reading, but soon found myself listening to what they had to say.
“Desserts are very important to my sister, you know, she takes pride in that. So she tries out this new recipe to bring over on a holiday, Thanksgiving or Christmas or something, I can't remember, and we were eating at my mom's house. My sister walks into the kitchen with the dessert and my mom was like, ‘Well I already have a dessert so you can just set it off to the side.' Seriously, who does that?” the first woman ends her story by laughing.
“My mom would, she's the same way,” her friend answered her.
I could already see that the first lady to speak was the louder of the two, and would most likely keep relating the conversation back to her if she could help it. I knew I shouldn't be amused by this exchange, but it seemed more interesting than my book at the present moment. As I tuned back in, I heard “Why wouldn't you, it's free lipo!” from the louder lady. Her friend with the pixie cut murmured in agreement, as she continued speaking.
“Honestly, its not that hard to stay healthy. I just go to the grocery store over the weekend and buy all of my vegetables and just steam them up on Monday or Tuesday to save for the rest of the week.”
I didn't hear much of a response from her friend, but noticed that as she did speak, it was with a lower tone as she attempted to turn around nonchalantly to check who was near her. Although protected by sungla**es, I directed my eyes elsewhere and acted like their conversation was not affecting me in the slightest.
From the louder of the two, “Do you watch Orange is the New Black?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm on season three, episode three, the one where she starts distributing again. It ended with her being taking away to the penitentiary, I can't believe she started selling again!”
“She was set up.”
“REALLY?”
“Go back and re-watch the episode again, they make it pretty obvious that she's being set up. At least that's what I thought.”
“I'm on season three, episode three.”
“Yeah I know, go re-watch it. She was totally set up by that guy.”
“OH THANK GOD! I was so sad!”
They began wrapping up their conversation as the woman with the pixie cut received a phone call, presumably presenting her with another obligation. As they began saying their goodbyes, I couldn't help but wonder if my life would ever end up like the lives of these women: middle-aged housewives taking a break from driving the kids, steaming their vegetables, and watching Orange is the New Black to gossip over coffee. I returned to my book, a much more appealing thought.