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“You didn’t,” Julia said instead, turning back to her drink and taking another gulp.
“I only meant that I get that feeling, and it’s not stupid.”
Erin pulled her own drink back to her lips, almost as if to keep her hands from wandering into enemy territory again. Could she feel the goosebumps that began to creep up Julia’s arm? Were the sparks literally scouring that bar table, or was it just her?
“Sometimes I get so overwhelmed,” Erin sighed, drawing out the words as she looked down at her wine. She picked up the glass and swirled its contents, hesitating before bringing it to her lips. “The only thing I can do is lie down and stare at the ceiling fan twirling above me. It helps the world fade away, watching those blades spin.”
Julia glanced up faster than she intended, locking eyes with Erin. She watched the spark fade from her eyes. Those ruby nails tightened around her drink, eyes fixated on her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Those eyes told more than words ever could.
They didn’t spend hours crying and pouring out their past, spewing their darkest secrets onto the stained varnish of that counter. But it was like both knew what the other meant, knew what they held inside. It was as if words weren’t needed in the space they shared.
Julia never heard anyone openly admit the thoughts that echoed in her own mind. She couldn’t be the only person with this feeling of all-too-muchness. She couldn’t be the sole one swallowed by the silence. But when the void closed in around her like a noose? She was sure she was the last one standing.
It was something about being content in the nothingness that she liked. The feeling of needing to be alone, but not wanting to be lonely; the feeling of escaping reality without actually doing so. That’s why she sits here alone–because being alone isn’t the same thing as being lonely. For the first time in a long time, that stranger managed to make her feel heard in a way she never thought was possible again.
Closing her eyes, Julia shook her head slightly as the cold sting of tequila trickled down the back of her throat. Her vision began to sway, the hazy pleasure of the alcohol finally catching up with her.
“Why are you shaking your head?” Erin leaned on one elbow, a soft smile across her face as she stared directly at Julia. Her hazelnut hair cascaded over her hands in a river of heavy molasses.
When did she get so close?
“Oh.” Julia was suddenly startled, lost in the way her pink lips shimmered in the reflection of the light. “I’m sorry,” she tried to shake out a laugh through her nose, “it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to anyone outside of work.”
Erin leaned even closer. Julia knew it meant nothing, but having this beautiful woman look at her when she’s felt like a ghost in her own body for so long lit a warmth in her chest. It forced a smile on her face that she really meant, a feeling she thought she forgot.
“What do you do for work?” Erin asked, her proximity drawing Julia in.
She thought about her answer for a moment before responding. How could she explain her career when she was sitting in a bar, in the middle of the night, talking to a complete stranger? Drinking on a weekend with friends, sure that’s acceptable. But hiding in a bar after midnight, on a school night, by herself? A little tipsy, nonetheless?
“I’m in management,” she responded, far too hastily. It wasn’t quite an outright lie; more like a stretch of the truth. “I have been for probably longer than you’ve been alive.” Julia giggled, but the joke felt misplaced.
She wasn’t trying to be dismissive, but that woman’s smile made her mind muddle into a rain-soaked pond. When she looked at Erin with concern, she caught her looking back, eyes slowly scanning her body as if it was on display. Erin leaned in closer, those eyes stripping layers off of her, forcing Julia’s breath to catch in her throat.
“I’m older than I look,” she whispered, her words mere inches from Julia’s ear. The heat of her breath sent hot shivers down Julia’s spine. She smelled like floral vanilla musk, like a cashmere blanket on a crisp afternoon, soft and filled with such an indescribable comfort.
The way Erin smiled? The way she said that last sentence so breathlessly? After being out of the dating game for so long, Julia wouldn’t recognize a genuine advance unless it hit her square in the face with a handwritten invitation. Even then, she might need some signage directing the way too–neon arrows lining the path.
Shaking the idea out of her head, she took another sip. The warmth spread to her cheeks and down her chest. Erin retreated back to her own personal space like she hadn’t said a thing. She raised her glass for Greg to see, who was to her side in an instant with a fresh bottle of chardonnay. Julia raised her own with a smile and he flashed that knowing wink.
“I apologize if that came out wrong,” Julia finally spoke, setting down her empty glass. She looked back out the window, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her.
Did she have any social skills left? She spent too much time alone. She’d walk through her front door as the sun dipped below the horizon and then work on the couch until she felt tired enough to lay down. After tossing and turning for hours, she’d give up the futile act–the tiredness of her bloodshot eyes stinging every throbbing nerve–and open a book from her bedside, hoping it would lull her to sleep. But it never did. There wasn’t any peace in a place that couldn’t be called home.
She couldn’t play that same routine on days like today. Days that add up one year since what felt like was the worst day of her life. Days when the silence spread too far in all directions, even when the hustle and bustle of life hollered in her ears. Days when she’d glance at her left hand, fixated on the faded tan line of where a promise used to be. Days when the realization that the hollow piece of a woman before her in the mirror was all that was left.
Erin leaned closer, a smile dancing on her lips. “I have a feeling you think too much.”
She ran her hand through her hair, tucking away golden waves that resembled strands of bronze silk. For a fleeting moment, the light caught those strands. She subtly shifted her hand, bringing it closer to Julia’s on the counter. Julia tried not to overthink, but God was it hard to focus on anything else other than the lingering scent of her perfume in the air.
“I’ve been told that.” How was it so easy to talk to her? How could two strangers melt into a conversation like fluffy cotton candy dissolving in water? Nothing is ever this easy. “What do you do for work for you to be out at,” Julia paused, looking at the clock, “one thirty on a Thursday night?”
“I’m actually in town for work.” Erin smiled. “Lately I travel around the lovely, frigid state of New York and evaluate different programs.”
She finished the last sentence as if it was the most boring job in the world. Julia found it fascinating. She wanted to know more. She wanted every detail, no matter how long it took. She never wanted Erin to stop talking, that soothing voice filling the space from corner to corner.
As soon as she opened her mouth to ask one of the many burning questions, a sudden interruption shattered the moment.
“Last round!” Greg shouted, and the entire bar erupted in disappointed howls.
