Whiskey on The Rocks

 I couldn't help but feel as though I was stuck in a cliché. Everything about my current situation made me feel as though I was in a movie scene; the way the smoke hung like fog overhead, the dim lighting that made everyone in the bar look suspicious, even the drink in my hand. I couldn't help but imagine the camera looking over my shoulder and into my glass, showing my slumped shoulders that only served to emphasize my current mood. Everything seemed to be perfect, for a movie set.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any more picturesque, an old man with a salt and pepper mustache hobbled to the stool next to mine. He offered to buy me a drink. I kindly refused. He bought it anyways.

“Girl troubles, son?” The man's voice was deep, and soothing. You could hear the compassion in him. He wasn't just a lonely old man trying to make small talk, but a concerned old man trying to help a bar mate.

I actually couldn't help but smile at this, as his concern did genuinely make me feel better. Sometimes, all it takes is for someone to give you a little bit of compassion. Sometimes all you need is to know that someone else cares. “That obvious?”

“I've been to this bar nearly every night of my life for the past 20 years, son” he paused to light a heavily, but pleasantly, fragrant cigar “when you frequent a place like this, you learn to spot what troubles. Body language tells more than anyone thinks, if you can read it.”

I didn't really know what I could, or should say. I thought, as I sipped my drink, and as I swirled my glass just to watch the shining cubes of ice. I settled on “Yeah.” I finished off my drink, eyed the one that the older man had bought me, not really sure what the custom for that was. Do I drink it now? Do I let it sit for a little? He answered the question for me by giving the glass a nudge in my direction, no doubt having caught me staring at it.

“Well, son” he kept calling me that, as if he were some sort of father-figure to the entire bar “you could always go after her. You could always give it another shot. Women value confidence over everything else.”

I shook my head and locked eyes with my glass. No, it wasn't that easy. I had been close enough to know for sure. I'd seen the way she looked at me, the way her eyes lacked that spark of interest I desired. We'd lock eyes, and she'd smile, but it wasn't the smile I was looking for.

We'd fallen together drunk before (no, we'd never made love, much to my dismay), but I could feel it in the way she held me. I could feel it in her body. I could feel the lack of love, the lack of genuine compassion in her muscles. I'd been with other women before, and she doesn't hold me in the way a lover holds a lover. On occasion, yes, when she was feeling lonely herself...

When I finally stood up to leave the bar, the old man was gone. He had left a piece of paper in front of his stool that read, simply “Go get her, son.”

If only she'd let me.

Reviews

[Omegax45]

Nice show of the thoughts of a man in love with someone that does not love him. He is right not to go after her. A person that does not show any love or affection through their actions is not worth it. Very good.