The Woman

     The woman sat alone in a corner in the crowded room. Music and conversation flowed around her, but was not directed to her. At first glance she looked like an average girl, but upon closer inspection one would be able to see the delicate features of her face framed by luxurious wavy auburn hair. Behind thin glasses, her blue eyes gleamed with intelligence. If any had asked though, she would be the first to say that she was downright plain, even ugly. She seldom looked at herself in the mirror, would in fact go out of her way to avoid seeing her reflection.
     So she sat, slowly sipping a glass of white wine that had long ago turned warm. She didn't know why she was here. She usually didn't do the bar scene, preferring instead the joys of a good movie, or a poetry reading in a darkened coffee house. Something in her though had wanted a different evening and she had obliged herself. She longed desperately for someone, anyone to talk to her, but none did. With a sigh she finished her wine and stood. One more drink, she though to herself, and then I'm going home. She wound her way through the crowd. Her gauzy black skirt twirled around her ankles as she walked. She moved with a dancer's grace, and did not go unnoticed. One man, only very slightly tipsy, grabbed her hands and dragged her onto the dance floor.

     "C'mon beautiful, you move so gracefully, dance with me once," he whispered to her and placed his hands around her waist. He twirled her and began to lead her in a dance before she could object. She went along with him, but she knew she wasn't graceful. She knew that she was clumsy and oafish. After the song ended he released her and wandered off to claim his next partner, and she headed once again for the bar. As she walked. she wished she were normal, that she was worthy of attention, deserving of affection. She thought there was a vital part of her missing somehow. There was a gaping blackness in her that she was powerless, helpless to fill.

     "What can I get for you?" Her musings were interrupted by the sensual voice of the bartender. She looked up into two of the greenest eyes she had ever seen in a human. Her mind, always fertile, always on, quickly ran through several scenarios, and she smiled a small smile to herself.

     "Ma'am," the bartender inquired again. Patiently he waited and watched as she shook her head, as if getting rid of an unappealing thought, then opened her mouth and spoke.

     "I'd like a Long Island Iced tea," she said in a pleasant, cultured voice. He nodded and removed the glass she had set on the bartop. As he went to make her drink he thought that someone with her voice would do very well in either radio or televison.

     As the bartender turned away, the woman winced. She had always hated the sound of her voice. To her, it always reminded her of nails on a chalkboard. She was mildly amused at her choice of drink.  She had intended to order another glass of wine, but the same impulse that had led her here, led her to order something different. She watched the bartender making her drink. She admired his skill in measuring the alcohol. She watched as he professionally mixed it and poured it into a clean glass for her. She reached into her purse and brought out her wallet. She opened it and pulled out the first bill she found. She looked at it then nodded. In their brief interaction, he'd made her feel human, and alive, and connected. It was well worth the price. He brought her the drink and presented it to her with a flourish and a small bow. Delighted, she smiled at him brightly. He looked at her. If he had thought she was pretty before, when she smiled she was beautiful. He blinked as if stunned and she used the chance to slip the bill into his hand.

     "Keep the change," she told him and turned to walk away leaving the bartender to stare after her. He looked down to see what she had handed him and did a double take. She had given him a $50 for a $5 drink. He looked up again, but she had faded into the crowd.

     The woman slowly made her way through the building. This particular bar had a rooftop terrace and it was there she headed. She carefully walked up the stairs so as not to spill her drink. At the top of the stairs she pushed open the glass door and stepped out into the night. It was a beautiful spring evening, and even though it was warm she had the terrace almost to herself. The only other people were a young couple who walked hand in hand around the terrace. She watched as they sat on a wicker loveseat. She envied them the obvious love they shared. She averted her gaze and walked to the opposite side of the terrace. The young couple watched her go. The guy thought, that while she was pretty enough she was no match for the girl he held in his arms. The girl felt an immediate sense of pity for the woman. She thought the woman may have just exited an unhappy relationship. She snuggled closer to the man she loved and hoped that nothing like that ever happened to her.

     The woman set her drink down on table, and sat down. A warm wind caressed her face and brought the scent of lilacs to her nose. She inhaled deeply and thought about love in general, and the young couple in particular. She had had relationships before, and was no longer a virgin, but true love eluded her. She thought it was due to the missing part of her, but was resigned to her life as it was. She found herself wishing, however foolishly, that the young couple would stay together forever. She took several deep drinks of her beverage. She looked up as a door closed and she saw the young couple had left. She was now alone on the terrace. She stood, picked up her drink and walked over to the railing. She leaned over and looked at the empty street below. Faintly, oh so faintly, she could hear the music from the bar downstairs. On yet another impulse, she kicked off her sandals and carefully, very carefully, climbed over the railing. She stood on the very edge of the rooftop, her arms thrust behind her holding onto the railing. She let go with on hand and grabbed her drink. It was very important for some reason that she finish it. She downed the rest then let the glass slip from her fingers. She watched as it tumbled over and over finally hitting the pavement and shattering into a thousand pieces.

     Suddenly, everything was so clear to her. She turned so she was facing the railing then let go and fell back. The wind rushed past her and she laughed. She felt free. She felt whole. She felt. She now knew what was wrong, what had always been wrong with her. She knew what was missing. It was her confidence, her faith in herself, her own self worth. Her body met the pavement and for a moment she knew no more.

     The bartender was on his break and was standing outside enjoying a breath of fresh air. He nodded to several people including a slightly tipsy man and a young couple. He was startled by the sound of shattering glass. He looked in time to see the woman's body hit the ground. The tipsy man turned and threw up in some nearby bushes. The girl screamed and started to cry and her boyfriend took her in his arms to comfort her.

     "Someone call 911," the bartender barked out, then walked over to the body. The woman lay in a pool of blood. Expecting her to be dead, he was very surprised to see her chest still rising, although very slowly. Her eyes were closed, but she wore the same smile she had given him earlier, and he still thought her beautiful. He knelt down beside her.

     "Is she still alive," the young woman asked him and he looked up to see the couple and the tipsy man standing there. Before he could answer the woman opened her eyes.

     She looked up at them. The bartender, the man she had danced with, the young couple. It was only now, at the moment of death, that she could accept their gifts. She knew why it had been important to come to this bar tonight. She was now whole, now complete. There was no more blackness. No more gaping void.

     "Thank you," she whispered serenly then closed her eyes and died. The four people looked at the body then at each other. Each had unaswered questions, and an odd unshakeable feeling that in some way, despite the woman dying, they had helped her. In the distance sirens blared.