He’s been talking to her all night. The conversation has been a spirited competition of words, funny voices, impressions and dumb jokes. He could go all night. And he would, if he thought she’d be won over.
She hasn’t let him buy her a single drink. It’s the ‘let me buy you a drink’ line that gets you in trouble, she knows. When the bartender looks her way, she is quick to signal for another. One more, for her. He can signal his own.
The birthday of a mutual friend is their cause for gathering. It’s drinks and cake all around, friends crowded around the birthday girl, batting balloons ahead their heads until someone jabs it with a cigarette. POP!
They’re sitting at the corner table, discussing in detail why these balloons won’t stick to the wall after being rubbed on another’s head. It’s probably a conspiracy, they decide.
Everyone is trickling out, complaining about early mornings at work, getting older and that smell in the bar bathroom. She’s settling her tab and chatting with the bartender. He’s lingering, bar tab already paid, purposely, not yet awkwardly, but obviously. She’s starting to get anxious, eyes avoiding his, not wanting to encourage him. She imagines him trying to walk her to her car, standing around awkwardly, trying to ask about her weekend plans while she dives into her car and escapes. The polite but unmistakable ‘no thanks’ is so difficult. There’s a fine line between being clear and being a bitch.
They sit at the bar, nursing the last beer of the evening while the jukebox rocks and rolls. TV's positioned around the bar show a variety of sports shows. Silent, glowing boxes, the men watch the captions that roll along the bottom of the screen.
As the guys begin to argue football and hockey stats, she spaces out, wondering how this will play out. . . oh god. What if he tries to kiss her? She worries and drinks.
He stands and yawns “Excuse me for a sec, hon.” He saunters into the men’s room.
Gazing at the dark amber bottle in her hand, she grins at the solution that dropped into her lap so unexpectedly. If only it was always this easy. One more swig finishes her beer and she’s on her feet.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Stop light stage
At the intersection of 29th and Fairlawn, Shalyn waits for the green arrow that allows her to turn left. Every night at this intersection, she waits, head full of the day's debris. Instead of watching the light, she watches her rearview mirror as it reveals a silver Dodge Neon. It's occupants visible in the red glow of the stoplight. Safe and sound inside their car, it never occurs to them that they are on a silent stage.
A young woman in the driver's seat. A young man at her side.
He is telling a story, talking animatedly, wild hand gestures and funny faces.
The driver is entertained, smiling broadly, shoulders rocking in laughter.
He laughs as well, pleased with her reaction.
Something changes the conversation, maybe a song on the radio, maybe a situation one of them referenced. They both begin to dance in their bucket seats. It’s purposely silly with head bopping and exaggerated movements. Pushing each other towards hysterical laughter, their dance becomes even more ridiculous.
Still waiting and watching, Shalyn laughs out loud. Having danced her fair share of stupid car dances, the simple delight is easily recalled.
When the light turns green, the audience of one and the unaware actors drive away.
A young woman in the driver's seat. A young man at her side.
He is telling a story, talking animatedly, wild hand gestures and funny faces.
The driver is entertained, smiling broadly, shoulders rocking in laughter.
He laughs as well, pleased with her reaction.
Something changes the conversation, maybe a song on the radio, maybe a situation one of them referenced. They both begin to dance in their bucket seats. It’s purposely silly with head bopping and exaggerated movements. Pushing each other towards hysterical laughter, their dance becomes even more ridiculous.
Still waiting and watching, Shalyn laughs out loud. Having danced her fair share of stupid car dances, the simple delight is easily recalled.
When the light turns green, the audience of one and the unaware actors drive away.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
hoping for more than 10%
It was the time of day that afternoon slide into evening and the restaurant was suddenly packed. The waiting area was filled with waiting families, parents with squirming children, wearing matching baseball jerseys and hats. The hostess and waiters set to work quickly, moving tables together, finding enough chairs to seat the mix of family and friends together.
“Did they call ahead?” the waiter asked under his breath.
The hostess glanced up at group, all shifting and sighing, juggling diaper bags and babies before answering, “Nope.”
“Of course we can seat 18 during rush. Why call ahead?” the waiter said softly with only a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
The place settings arranged at last, the hostess bounds back toward the waiting herd with a bright smile and friendly tone, “Thanks for waiting, your tables are ready if you’ll just follow me.”
Likewise transformed, the waiter grinned and greeted his suddenly welcome customers, hiding any irritation in hopes of a decent tip.
“Did they call ahead?” the waiter asked under his breath.
The hostess glanced up at group, all shifting and sighing, juggling diaper bags and babies before answering, “Nope.”
“Of course we can seat 18 during rush. Why call ahead?” the waiter said softly with only a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
The place settings arranged at last, the hostess bounds back toward the waiting herd with a bright smile and friendly tone, “Thanks for waiting, your tables are ready if you’ll just follow me.”
Likewise transformed, the waiter grinned and greeted his suddenly welcome customers, hiding any irritation in hopes of a decent tip.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
