I cut through the press of bodies and head toward the back, where the band is tuning their instruments getting ready to play another set.
By sheer luck, a group of girls at a table located against the wall is about to leave. One looks at me and asks if I want it. I don’t, as a general rule, hang at bars by myself. But I can’t bear to be alone tonight, and the music seems to be the antidote for whatever I’m feeling––which is sorry for myself.
So he left without saying goodbye or anything. Not even to tell me where he was going. I can’t hold it against him. That wouldn’t be fair. We have nothing but mutual attraction and a few scorching kisses between us.
Nodding, I take a seat and thank them as they leave. Layer after layer of clothing gets peeled off: Jackie’s Ralph Lauren Navajo coat, my hat, gloves. We’ve had a snap of cold weather lately and even a few flurries. I don’t care if it’s May, I’m freezing, and it’s safe to assume that I’ll probably be freezing until sometime in August.
A waitress takes my order and quickly returns with my vodka cranberry. I rarely drink but this is one of those nights. All around me people are laughing and living their lives while I’m stuck in standby, waiting for something to break loose and set me free.
“To me,” I mutter, raising the cocktail to my lips. “And Ellen.”
As the cosmo and music work their magic, soothing my weary soul, a prickle of awareness runs across the back of my neck. Without thought, I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of a familiar tall figure pushing through the crowd.
Head tipped back, eyes scanning the room. In his hand a beer bottle and the sleeve of thin black sweater pushed up his forearms. His dark blue gaze lands on me and he stops, staring for what feels like forever. Meanwhile my stomach does that funny thing it’s not supposed to do whenever he looks at me.
“Hi,” he says, reaching the table. He takes a seat.
“Hi,” I say, confused by the swing of emotions I’m feeling––happy to see him and equally terrified that I’m feeling this way. “How was your trip?” God, did that come out snarky? Hopefully it’s too loud in here for him to have noticed.
“Good…it was good.” He looks away, over my shoulder, face tight with heavy thoughts. An awkward silence falls and I try to fill it, as I often do.
“Are you here for the music?”
His gaze returns to me, wanders over my face. The crease in between his brows disappears. “I was on my way to the paper and I saw you walk in.”
“You did? I mean, you were?” I’m a bundle of nerves. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“I went to see Karen––Mike’s wife.”
No, apparently he’s not. Disappointment washes over me. He doesn’t have to explain himself. We are nothing to each other. He owes me nothing.
“Is that…is that hard for you?” I take a big sip of my drink and feel it burn my throat.
He pauses, mulling over how to answer. “She’s seeing someone and wanted to tell me in person.”
He doesn’t look okay with it. The sinking sensation in my gut stages a comeback. “I’m…I feel like I lose Mike more and more each day.” His gaze drops, directed at the condensation on the beer bottle he’s wiping away with his thumb. “Ask me. I know you want to.”
It’s been hanging there between us. Do I think people make honest mistakes? Yes. But this is bigger than that. So, heart pounding, I ask, “Were you drinking the night of the accident?”
Looking me squarely in the eyes, he says, “No.”
“Drugs?”
“Not that night. I’ve used my fair share of painkillers, but that night I took over-the-counter.”
The relief I feel is overwhelming.
“Are you mad at her for moving on?”
He shakes his head and exhales deeply. “No. No, I’m happy for her.”
Now I’m the one exhaling deeply. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he said yes. I’m past the point of denying that I don’t have feelings for this man.
“I was coming to find you…I––”
A guy knocks into our table going backward, pushed by his buddy. Not a local. He’s dressed top to bottom in designer clothes. The two-thousand-dollar Yeeze Nikes make my eyes roll.
“Sorry, yo,” he says to us when he almost winds up in Jake’s lap. Had Jake not grabbed the bottle fast enough, the beer would’ve spilled all over me.
Seeing Jake’s expression, the dude laughs. He’s high or drunk or both probably. “Easy, yo. It was an accident.”
Then he flips his long bangs to the side. His friend steps up behind him and checks us out. And if guy number one is Dumb then this one is Dumber. Dumber has the oversized muscles of someone who feeds on a steady diet of steroids.