Handbag

The handbag had been left on the end of the bar. It was bright pink, made of a smooth, glossy material that shone in the light. It sat in the lonely space for over an hour before one of the bartenders grabbed it. Nervous, but glad no-one had decided to steal it, the young woman with purple pigtails, Becky, scanned the room.

This place was hardly a club, but too big and full of music to be a bar. She’d been on her feet from seven till eleven, and the fun wasn’t stopping. Students and locals came here often, and Becky was astonished but also proud to see the huge variety in people. Not long ago, it wouldn’t have been normal for black people, gays, lesbians, and transgender people to mix in one group, and yet, here they were, together. It made her grateful for her job: at this time of night, she could see people of her own age being free, in a place where differences didn’t matter.

Noticing her colleagues were busy, Becky held the bag in her hand, fingering her lip piercing with her spare finger. She thought she should keep it by, in case someone came to collect it.

At that moment, however, someone walked over to the bar; or, more accurately, tumbled onto it – a young girl, slim and white-skinned, dark hair damp, either from dancing or alcohol, Becky thought. She took a moment to compose herself before meeting Becky’s eyes with her very drunk ones.

“That bag,” the girl slurred, jabbing a finger at the item in question.

“Oh,” Becky answered, feeling relieved. She shouted over the volume of the music. “It’s yours!”

“No, it’s my friend’s.”

“Oh!”

The girl was reaching her hand out eagerly, so seeing no other option, Becky gave her the bag. “Any drinks for you?” she asked the girl in her professional tone.

All she got was a disorientated shake of the head before she stumbled away. Becky was afraid the girl was going to fall over before someone who clearly knew her came to her aid, holding her waist with his hands.

A tall young man, with hair dyed purple just like Becky’s, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a great deal of glittery makeup on his eyelids, cheeks, and lips. And it was him who gratefully took the pink handbag from his friend’s grasp.

Becky couldn’t help but smile as the guy hung it proudly from his shoulder. It looked almost alien against his flannel shirt and jeans, but if she’d learned anything from observing the people here, it was to expect the unexpected.

She was sure he caught her eye mischievously just before she resumed her work.