Bar

A Story by LoveLoveLove

Just the first couple pages of a story I'm working on where two people find romance while trying to figure themselves out. Typical quarter life crisis story with atypical elements.

Here I am again, staring at a blank screen. The bar blinking at me expectantly. Expecting words. Expecting answers. Expecting genius. Impatient. I hate this little bar as well as all the anxiety that comes with its expectancy. I’ve had it with deadlines, critics, fans, readings, all of it. I’ve had it with students, with research, with standards. I’m going to go away. I’ve decided. I will run away, form a new life. Maybe Chicago or Boston. I close the lid to the laptop and stare out the rain covered window at the city. I take out a cigarette, a habit I will abandon in my new life, and smoke to end this old one. I wonder if it rains in Chicago or Boston the way it does here in Seattle. I can hardly sleep without the patter of small drops on my skylight. I love the sounds of the people below. I love the sound of cars, the occasional wail of a siren. City people come to love these sounds. We can’t sleep without them. We become lonely and sad without all the noise.

I remember a boy from Texas I dated in College. 22 years old is still a boy in this day and age. He couldn’t sleep in the city. He said he couldn’t sleep unless it was silent. Neither of us got much sleep when we were together. He moved back to Texas and said he’d keep in touch but aside from a poorly written Facebook message I haven’t seen him since.

I put out my cigarette and stare back out the window contemplating dinner. Thai? I had Thai on Wednesday. Indian? Chinese? I could cook for myself. I gaze at the kitchen, restrained. I notice the dishes piling up, the garbage that needed to be taken out. My cat’s empty food bowl. My cat laying in front of it. We made eye contact and he lets out an interested chirp and comes to sit on my lap. He becomes snuggly and lovely instantly. Begging me with all the persuasive methods a cat may have to feed him. He shows me his plump belly and I love it so much I oblige. If only my food came out of a bag. This cat doesn’t have choices to confuse him. His life is simple. Eat, play, and sleep. I would do anything to be a cat.

***

I come in from the rain, hair dripping and happier. My sandwich bag in hand. I take my shoes off and sit at the kitchen table, cell phone in one hand, sandwich in the other. I have an E-mail from John, an old buddy from my undergrad backpacking adventures through East Asia. He is coming to Seattle soon and wants to stay with me. I reply with an “Of course you can stay!” My home has been a hostel lately for the drifters I have come to call friends and I love it. John is a man I don’t know very well. He was a boy when we met in South Korea, he was playing beer pong with Australians in the courtyard of the youth hostel I was staying at for a week. He and I had a mutual friend in Chris, a guy from my university that I was travelling with. We had a great few weeks together through South Korea and Japan but John was going to be living in Japan for a year to do a study abroad so we had to part ways. I would be lying if I said he wasn’t strikingly handsome. Almost intimidatingly so. He had a cut jaw, almost white blonde hair, perfect teeth, tan skin and to top it all off, he was compassionate and sweet. Japanese girls would always comment on his looks and he’d seem almost embarrassed by it. I’d understand that as sometimes Japanese girls would embarrass me by grabbing my breasts and asking if they were real, comb their fingers through my hair and tell me how blonde it was. In America I’m considered a brunette so this always confused me. They would call me “Sexy Dynamite” which is never a term a nerdy, self-conscious white girl would ever be comfortable with. Chris and Josh found this hilarious though and would tease me too. My nick name became Sexy Dynamite quicker than I could catch.

Looking back on it all makes me smile. This is why I love having visitors. I get to remember that I’ve done something. I’ve had adventures.

I awaken to loud pounding on my door. I quickly pull on some pajama pants and a dirty tank top before running to answer the door. John is standing there with that giant beautiful grin on his face. He scoops me up immediately into his arms for a tight hug. “Sexy Dynamite!” He practically yells. I smile and hug him back tightly. “Shhh! My neighbors will complain.” He sets me down and I close the door. I gesture to a bar stool “Sit, tell me how you’ve been. I’ll make you breakfast.”

We talked and laughed all morning. I forgot about how blue his eyes were. I had a hard time focusing on what he was saying with those beautiful eyes. That mouth. He told me about finishing his BA in Women’s Studies, becoming a writer for a big newspaper in Cincinnati then quitting and leaping into political and travel writing for a blog. He insists he makes good money doing this, however I’ve been blogging and writing novels for years and just barely make enough to get by. Still, he is passionate, he is mature, he is a feminist and he is gorgeous. I almost miss his question, dreaming about the political action rallies we could attend, our wedding, our children who eat non-GMO foods and have gender neutral toys. He is staring at me, waiting for an answer. I ask him to repeat the question. “Would you like to come work with me in Cincinnati for a while? The campaign could really use your PR experience.” I thought for a moment.

This is what I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been wanting to move on, to take action, and start a new life. He smiles that sweet smile again and my heart melts “I don’t need an answer right away, think about it.” I nod and stand up, collecting our plates and taking them to the sink. I turn on the faucet and go to step back, running into John. I jump a little. My heart pounding. “Sorry, you scared me!” I say and playfully hit him with my towel. He grabs it from me and begins to work on doing the dishes. “Oh, you don’t have to, you shouldn’t! You are a guest!” He looks over his shoulder at me and shakes his head “I wouldn’t be a good guest if I let you cook me an amazing meal AND do the dishes.” I smile and go back to my bar stool. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. “

***

A couple days flew by with John. We had a blast going out on the town and sightseeing. The one thing about Seattleites is that we never get tired of showing guests the touristy spots. We are obsessed with our city and want you to be too. John was, he loved Seattle which made me glad. He said he would stay if it weren’t for his political goals in Cincinnati. He offered me the job again before he left, I could come whenever I wanted. We hugged goodbye the way we hugged hello and I went back to my den with the expectant blinking bar.