Page 8 of Capacity
I was sitting at a bar on Monday evening just doors away from The Mystic Crystal where the AA meeting was being held. I went to the first one last week and sat in the back of a small room with exposed brick walls. The bolder attendees sat in a semi-circle, talking about their addiction to alcohol. I hung out in the back. My mouth was cotton-dry and the small plastic cups of cool water they had on the refreshment table weren’t doing anything to quench my thirst.
Every one of them sounded like me but I related to a guy named Terrence the most. He was a widower in his forties who lived alone and drank to numb the pain of life. He still got up and went to work every day just like I did. He was functioning but he was still broken. He was broken in the same ways I was.
A part of me didn’t want to go back to that exposed brick room and sit in the back. I didn’t want to sit in the semi-circle either. I wanted to shut my eyes to the blaring red flags in my face. I wanted to ignore the grave I was digging for myself until it was time for me to lie in it.
“Can I get you something, sir?” The gruff bartender looked at me with curious brown eyes. He was an older man who looked like he gave sage advice. I wasn’t in the mood for advice though.
“Ginger ale, please,” I said lifting my finger. Something grew teeth inside of me, putting up a fight against the all-consuming addiction that ruled my mind like a tyrant. I had no idea what that something was that pushed me toward ginger ale instead of whiskey but I admired it. I hoped I didn’t let it—whatever it was—down.
The bartender set down a heavy-bottomed glass of soda in front of me with a lime slice hanging from the rim. For good measure, I squirted some lime juice into the glass pretending it was a cocktail and not something I’d order for a five-year-old.
When I took the first gulp of tingly soda, the sound of soft laughter broke the air apart. I looked to the front door where the laughter came from and saw two women walking in, headed straight for the bar.
They were both beautiful but the woman on the right stopped time. My hand paused on the way to my mouth as I followed her slow strut all the way to the seat two stools away from mine.
She was petite but her presence was larger than life. Her skin was espresso dipped in honey. It glowed subtly as she shifted to settle on the stool with a sigh. Her cheekbones were regal slashes beneath almond-shaped eyes with mile-long thick black lashes. Her inky hair was pulled back in a low bun at the nape of her slender neck just above the collar of her pink shirt.
My eyes found her lips and my muscles tightened. They were impossibly full like they held life’s greatest secrets. I wondered how she looked when she smiled. I liked looking at her just the way she was though.
I barely got a chance to admire her tight curvy body because her face was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. My hands itched to snap photo after photo of her. I needed to capture her ethereal beauty on film just to prove she was real.
I took another drink of ginger ale once time ticked back into place and pried my eyes away from the goddess two seats down. It was tough not to glance at her over my shoulder though. I wanted to know what color her eyes were. I wanted to know what her voice sounded like.
I pushed my fingers through my hair and angled myself away from the two women, putting my back to the beautiful one. “Hey, I want to buy them drinks. Can you ask what they like?” I said quietly to the bartender. A smirk lifted one side of his thin lips as he nodded.
My ears burned when he spoke to the women. I heard the voice of the beautiful one but the sound of up-tempo jazz and scattered conversations muffled it so all I discerned was the melodic cadence. It was throaty and held a note of sadness. Every second she spoke was streaked with something achingly melancholy.
“They both like dry white wine,” the bartender said, resting on an elbow as he looked to me for further instructions.
“I’ll buy them a bottle of your finest.” I plunked my card down on the slick wood-topped bar and pointed to my empty glass. “I’ll pay now.”
“You really sat in here just to drink a five-dollar glass of ginger ale?” His belly jumped when he laughed at me. He took my card with no problem though.
I watched him deliver the chilled bottle of wine to the two women before he gave my card back. I signed the receipt and walked over to the friends quietly laughing and talking about the free bottle of white wine. The beautiful one looked up at me and I was rubble.
Those eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen. I couldn’t pinpoint the colors dancing in her irises if I tried. Sage and honey tangled together but it was more than that. Her eyes were bright as emeralds and rich as bars of gold. A deep rim of chocolate circled the outer iris like a vignette forcing all the attention to the sparkle at the forefront.
She didn’t smile when she looked at me but her friend did. It was almost like the beautiful one didn’t know how to smile. Like she’d forgotten. I had the irrational urge to bring a smile back to her face. I didn’t even know this woman but the need to make her smile was building rapidly in my chest.
“Hi, I wanted to stop by to say I hope you ladies enjoy your evening.” I tried my best to respectfully look at them both but my eyes wouldn’t stray too far from the beautiful one.
“Thank you,” her friend said, smiling big and bright. I caught the wedding band sparkling on her finger and immediately looked at the beautiful one, searching for a wedding band. When I didn’t see one, my breathing came out easier.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I care if she was married? Sure, she was beautiful and time stopped when I first saw her but I wasn’t in the right headspace to start courting someone as gorgeous as her. Evidently, I was only good for fucking teenagers and getting them drunk.
“No problem. I’m heading out but at least someone gets to have a good night,” I said. My eyes found their way to the sea of emerald and honey wrapped in warm brown skin and plump lips.
“You bought us wine and now you’re leaving?” The beautiful one sounded intrigued. I absorbed the warm timbre of her voice and the twang of her southern drawl. It washed over me like butterscotch.
“Yeah. I shouldn’t be in here at all. Ishouldbe in the AA meeting a few doors down.” I snapped my lips shut and kicked myself for being so forthcoming with a stranger. She raised her eyebrows and shifted in her seat.
Great, she probably thinks you’re a psychotic alcoholic.
“If you need to go to AA, a bar probably isn’t the best place for you,” the beautiful one’s friend eyed me before pouring a glass of wine.
“Why tempt fate?” The beautiful one asked. I hung on her every word. I couldn’t get enough of her accent.
“I don’t know,” I said, drawing out my syllables as if it would stretch time along with my words. “I didn’t get a drink. Just ginger ale. Maybe I wanted to prove I could walk into the devil’s den and come out unscathed.” I flashed a smile at her and she looked at me like she was trying to figure me out. Like I had an instruction manual printed on my face. I would have gladly told her everything she wanted to know.
