Page 28 of Love is Strange
Chapter One
For the thirdnight in a row, I find myself in the same place and wonder why. I’m looking for something to take the pain away, but I haven’t found it yet, so I should have been able to move on.
Maybe it’s the darkly lit wooden walls and doors that are holding so many broken hearts in one place. It could be the darker corners of this establishment where young men are talking to even younger women, more than likely looking for a companion for the night.
It could also be the raucous group of dangerous looking friends that seem to have a claim on the billiards corner, beers in the air, and a few dirty, beyond sexually explicit cat calls that split the air when a pretty girl walks by.
Either way, for the past few nights, I’ve found myself sitting at the bar, ordering different amber-colored bottles of beer, hoping that my sense will finally wither and die off.
I don’t know why I’m feeling the pain again. It’s been gone for quite some time now, but lately when I close my eyes and try to sleep, the images flash before me and I’m trapped in a world of hell for the few hours that my body can’t find its way back to the sunlight.
I push my way through the clusters of couples and threesomes—the secret lovers and the ones hoping for something more with an extra partner to add to their bed for the night. I make my way to the bar and walk to the very end of the long, wooden counter until I find my favorite seat that is hidden in partial light and sit down.
I can usually go unnoticed for most of the night because I don’t dress for the occasion as most of the lonely women here do. The girl behind the bar is the same one for the three nights I’ve been in here and I wonder if the money is really that good, or if she just doesn’t have anything better to do with her time. Surely, being around semi-drunks and loud, vulgar people can’t exactly be fun—even if they’re not all like that.
“Hey, girl!” she greets me warmly when she finally notices me. I’ve got my purse on the bar-top and I’m ready to try whatever beer she suggests tonight. It’s fun for the most part because it gives me someone to talk to and I don’t feel so damn lonely. It also helps to keep me awake longer and avoid the trauma of my dreams.
I smile at her and wait patiently as another patron manages to snag her attention before she can get to me. I take the time to turn slightly on my stool and glance around. My eyes fall almost immediately on the billiards corner and I raise an eyebrow when I notice one of the pool table hooligans is leaning against the wall, watching me with a pool cue in his hand.
I hold his gaze for a moment, then shudder involuntarily and turn my attention back to the row of bottles sitting in the large glass display case that sits behind the counter and sigh.
“Sorry,” she says with a laugh when she finally settles in front of me. “That kid tips well, so I like to keep him fully plied.”
My smile returns as I shrug. I don’t expect to be anyone’s first priority because I know that for me, it usually only leads to more scars on the soul, and mine has so much tissue damage that I know I don’t have room for any new ones.
“Not a big deal,” I reply.
“So, what will it be tonight, sweetheart?” she asks, reaching underneath the counter and producing a damp rag to wipe away someone’s partially spilled drink two stools down from where I’m sitting.
“Let’s play another game of roulette,” I suggest, reaching into my purse for my wallet. “Set something down in front of me and I’ll give it a go.”
She grins and rubs her hands together, “Shit like this is why you’re my favorite around here.”
When she walks away from me, swaying her hips to keep the attention of her big tipper, I realize that we don’t know each other’s names. She returns a few moments later with a dark, long-necked bottle and sets it down in front of me.
“This is a new one—some kind of Belgian import. I haven’t been able to get anyone to try it yet,” she says with a mischievous smile.
“Sold,” I say as I lay a ten-dollar bill on the bar-top. She grins as she takes the money and goes to make change in the register, but she knows that when she comes back with it, I’ll wave it off and let her keep it. I feel it’s the least I can do for someone who lets me sit around and talk about nothing.
I would imagine that if I actually had a friend, this would probably amount to what a friendship could be like—minus the money, anyway.
“So, what’s up tonight?” she asks, leaning down and crossing her arms on the bar-top. “Do anything or anyone fun last night?”
I put the cool bottle to my lips and take a large swig, then shake my head as I set it down and suck my teeth. This has more alcohol content than a normal beer, so a couple more of these and I’m pretty sure I’ll be calling it an early night.
Before she has a chance to ask another invasive question, the jukebox starts blaring some loud rock song and the entire place erupts in cheers.American Womanby Lenny Kravitz is all it takes to make them into one cohesive unit instead of a pack of unhinged caged animals trying to steal meat from each other’s mouths.
I smile as I take in the scene. My eyes wander back to the billiards corner and I laugh when I see one of the bastards that holds that corner hostage standing on the edge of one of the pool tables, air guitaring along to the song. But not him—not the one with the eyes that seem to have become permanently attached to my presence. No, he’s raising his own bottle of beer to his lips, still leaning against the wall, and still watching me as if I were the only woman in the room.
“What’s his deal?” I ask, tearing my eyes away from him and swinging back around in my stool. The bartender leans up on the tips of her toes and cranes her neck to see who I’m looking at before a knowing look clouds her eyes and she grins at me.
“Tell you what. If you’re looking to forget whatever the hell it is that seems to be bothering your pretty little head, then I would definitely recommend him.”
I stare at her incredulously before shuddering and setting my bottle down. The way she’s saying it makes it seem like she has hands on knowledge of what he’s capable of and I don’t want any part of it. In my dire want of friendship, I feel like I could ruin the potential of forming one with her if I clean up her sloppy seconds.
“No thanks,” I reply with a firm shake of my head.
“Oh, come on. He’s a lot of fun and he seems to be interested with the way he’s staring at you. I can intro you if you want?” she asks, giving my arm a playful punch.
