The Past, the Present, and the Future
The past, the present, and the future walked into a bar. It was tense. I can only imagine what it would be like if Past Me, Present Me, and Future Me walked into a bar together. Past Me would order us a round of shots - Patron, chilled, with lime juice. She fancy. Present Me would order a beer. Blue Moon, most likely, or something similar. I know what I like. Future Me would order a pitcher of water for the table. And some food. If the bar didn't have anything, she'd go ahead and Door Dash that shit. Drinking on an empty stomach, not a great idea.
After Past Me downs her shot, and mine, and Future's shot, Future Me and I share a look. I clear my throat. "So, um, Past Me?"
"Why aren't we dancing? We should be dancing." Past Me starts to get up to head to the dance floor, and I grab her hand.
"Past Me, we need to talk."
Future Me nods her agreement and offers Past Me a weak smile.
"You know who likes to talk?" Past Me asks. "Future Me. This sounds like a great discussion for Future Me."
Future Me gets a stern look on her face. She's always having to deal with Past Me's bullshit. "You're kind of a bitch."
"Well that's not very nice," Past Me pouts.
I shoot Future Me a reproachful glance.
"Now, I think what Future Me is trying to say is that you don't exactly set me and Future Me up for success."
"What do you guys mean?" Past Me's voice takes on a bit of a whine. "I'm always looking out for you!"
"Oh yeah?" Future Me asks. "Like taking three shots in fifteen seconds is looking out for us."
"What's wrong with a few shots?"
"It's never just a few shots. And then who's left cleaning up vomit out of the front seat of the car because Present Me can't figure out how to open a door when she's white girl wasted? I'll tell you who. Me."
"It's not my fault Present Me is a sloppy drunk."
I sigh and rub my forehead. "We didn't come here to tell you not to drink, Past Me. Let's just start this over."
Past Me crosses her arms in front of her and sits on her barstool with a huff. "Fine. Whatever. You two are always ganging up on me anyway."
Future me pinches the bridge of her nose right between her eyes. "Like Present Me said, Past Me, we feel like you don't always have our best interests at heart."
"I'm sure that's not the case." I interrupt. "I'm sure she's not doing anything to be intentionally malicious."
"Oh yeah?" Future Me asks. "Like that time she scheduled you to juice on a Saturday morning."
It's not that I don't like juicing. It's more that I hate juicing. "She was probably just doing that so someone else didn't have to juice. We have to juice sometimes!"
"No we don't. She's the boss. She makes the schedule. Someone else can juice."
"Can we dance now?" Past Me asks, sliding down off her barstool.
"No!" Future Me and I shout in unison. Other bar patrons look our way. Past Me laughs while Future Me and I turn red in embarrassment.
"I'm not saying you do it on purpose, but can you just work on thinking about us a little more often?" I ask Past Me.
"What do you mean? I think about you guys all the time!"
I take a deep breath and let it go. "You used to, like, study for tests and get your oil changed. Now you . . . well . . . Just, like, I don't know. Find a place to put your keys and always put them there so I don't have to look for them when I'm running out the door."
"Yeah," Future Me agrees. "And do some fucking laundry on your day off!"
"You don't have to attack me! Let's dance instead. Our song is playing!"
Future Me rolls her eyes. "We don't have a song."
"Sure we do! This is it! This is our song."
Uptown Funk was playing on the jukebox.
"This is not our song." I deadpan.
"I'm too hot!" Past Me starts singing. "Call the police and the fireman."
"Please stop." Future Me takes a drink of my beer.
"I'm too hot! Make a dragon wanna retire man."
"It's not the worst song." I shrug at Future Me.
"I'm too hot! Say my name you know who I am."
"It's not the best song." I notice Future Me tapping on the table along to the beat.
"I'm too hot! And my band about that money." Past Me grabs my hand and drags me towards the dance floor behind her. I grab Future Me's hand and she follows with little hesitation.
We squeeze into the back seat of an Uber at the end of the night even though Past Me insists she's fine to drive and doesn't want to saddle Present Me or Future Me with the burden of collecting the car in the morning. This she does while trying to kiss Future Me on the cheek, crawling over me to do so.
"I'll get the car in the morning," Future Me sighs, pushing Past Me's face away. "Just promise me you'll put more money into retirement. Or at least start a budget."
"Or just put the scissors away when you're done with them so the kids don't cut their own hair. Again." I find my request to be much more reasonable.
"You girls are the best. Let's do that again."
After Past Me downs her shot, and mine, and Future's shot, Future Me and I share a look. I clear my throat. "So, um, Past Me?"
"Why aren't we dancing? We should be dancing." Past Me starts to get up to head to the dance floor, and I grab her hand.
"Past Me, we need to talk."
Future Me nods her agreement and offers Past Me a weak smile.
"You know who likes to talk?" Past Me asks. "Future Me. This sounds like a great discussion for Future Me."
Future Me gets a stern look on her face. She's always having to deal with Past Me's bullshit. "You're kind of a bitch."
"Well that's not very nice," Past Me pouts.
I shoot Future Me a reproachful glance.
"Now, I think what Future Me is trying to say is that you don't exactly set me and Future Me up for success."
"What do you guys mean?" Past Me's voice takes on a bit of a whine. "I'm always looking out for you!"
"Oh yeah?" Future Me asks. "Like taking three shots in fifteen seconds is looking out for us."
"What's wrong with a few shots?"
"It's never just a few shots. And then who's left cleaning up vomit out of the front seat of the car because Present Me can't figure out how to open a door when she's white girl wasted? I'll tell you who. Me."
"It's not my fault Present Me is a sloppy drunk."
I sigh and rub my forehead. "We didn't come here to tell you not to drink, Past Me. Let's just start this over."
Past Me crosses her arms in front of her and sits on her barstool with a huff. "Fine. Whatever. You two are always ganging up on me anyway."
Future me pinches the bridge of her nose right between her eyes. "Like Present Me said, Past Me, we feel like you don't always have our best interests at heart."
"I'm sure that's not the case." I interrupt. "I'm sure she's not doing anything to be intentionally malicious."
"Oh yeah?" Future Me asks. "Like that time she scheduled you to juice on a Saturday morning."
It's not that I don't like juicing. It's more that I hate juicing. "She was probably just doing that so someone else didn't have to juice. We have to juice sometimes!"
"No we don't. She's the boss. She makes the schedule. Someone else can juice."
"Can we dance now?" Past Me asks, sliding down off her barstool.
"No!" Future Me and I shout in unison. Other bar patrons look our way. Past Me laughs while Future Me and I turn red in embarrassment.
"I'm not saying you do it on purpose, but can you just work on thinking about us a little more often?" I ask Past Me.
"What do you mean? I think about you guys all the time!"
I take a deep breath and let it go. "You used to, like, study for tests and get your oil changed. Now you . . . well . . . Just, like, I don't know. Find a place to put your keys and always put them there so I don't have to look for them when I'm running out the door."
"Yeah," Future Me agrees. "And do some fucking laundry on your day off!"
"You don't have to attack me! Let's dance instead. Our song is playing!"
Future Me rolls her eyes. "We don't have a song."
"Sure we do! This is it! This is our song."
Uptown Funk was playing on the jukebox.
"This is not our song." I deadpan.
"I'm too hot!" Past Me starts singing. "Call the police and the fireman."
"Please stop." Future Me takes a drink of my beer.
"I'm too hot! Make a dragon wanna retire man."
"It's not the worst song." I shrug at Future Me.
"I'm too hot! Say my name you know who I am."
"It's not the best song." I notice Future Me tapping on the table along to the beat.
"I'm too hot! And my band about that money." Past Me grabs my hand and drags me towards the dance floor behind her. I grab Future Me's hand and she follows with little hesitation.
We squeeze into the back seat of an Uber at the end of the night even though Past Me insists she's fine to drive and doesn't want to saddle Present Me or Future Me with the burden of collecting the car in the morning. This she does while trying to kiss Future Me on the cheek, crawling over me to do so.
"I'll get the car in the morning," Future Me sighs, pushing Past Me's face away. "Just promise me you'll put more money into retirement. Or at least start a budget."
"Or just put the scissors away when you're done with them so the kids don't cut their own hair. Again." I find my request to be much more reasonable.
"You girls are the best. Let's do that again."