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My muscles feel rigid, perhaps stiff from sitting for so long, yet walking doesn’t help much. I’m anxious to return to the booth…and her. Taking a deep breath, I try to work out the feelings that accompany her proximity while making my way to the front of the bar. Couples move around me, heading in the opposite direction toward the dance floor.Would Lucy like to dance?The bartender pulls me out of my thoughts. I place the empty glasses on thebar and order another scotch for myself and a merlot for her.
As I’m waiting, a couple of young blondes approach to introduce themselves. The braver of the two holds her hand out to me, I shake it but don’t pay attention as I look over her shoulder to check if Lucy is back at the booth yet. The other, more subtle one leans her side against the bar while twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Turning away from them, I check for the bartender’s return, and thankfully, he approaches with our drinks.
“Put it on my tab, Henry Brooks,” I instruct the bartender. I point out the booth just to be sure. It’s still only occupied by Finn and Oliver. The bartender nods and turns to the other patrons.
The blondes are looking at me expectantly—I suppose I could give them a little something. They are certainly my type, and any other night I would have added their drinks to my tab too and remained at the bar with them, but not tonight. “Have a great night, ladies,” I say, quickly walking away before they have a chance to respond.
Finn and Oliver are sitting at the other end of the half-circle booth. I remain standing so upon Lucy’s return, she can move into the booth before me. I place the drinks on our table and notice Mia and Hannah returning. I look for her, but Lucy is not with them. “Where’s Lucy?” I ask as soon as they are close enough to hear me.
“Ugh,” groans Mia. What does that mean? Is she sick, uncomfortable, upset—did she leave with another man?
Thankfully, Hannah responds quickly. “She wasn’t feeling well. I think the loud music gave her a headache. She caught a taxi and headed home for the night.”
“She left?” I sigh. Why did that question come out sounding so disappointed?
“Yeah, she wanted me to tell you that she hopes you and the lucky lady you pick have a fun night!” she says with kindness as she slides into the booth next to Oliver. Yet, did Lucy mean them with the sweet tone Hannah relayed it, or was it meant as a jest?
I follow behind them, now sitting at the corner end of the booth while the two couples snuggle in deeper. In an attempt to push down my unexpected emotions, I drink Lucy’s wine in a couple of gulps. Music continues to play as I wallow in being the only single person among the couples.
Something that never bothered me before.
One of the blondes, not surprisingly the forward one from the bar, approaches our booth. I wonder if she deserted her friend. She gently touches my shoulder as she walks past. If this is what Lucy thinks of me, who am I to correct her.
After saying my goodbyes to my party, I follow the blonde to the bar, downing my scotch in one shot as we walk. This is exactly how I like to end my evenings when I go out in London, but something is missing. I don’t feel the thrill of excitement I usually get when meeting a woman at a bar. This is absurd. Why am I still thinking about my sons’ friend who left? This is who I am. As Lucy said, I should have a fun night.
The sun is too bright, and my head begins to pulse as an extremely annoying alarm goes off beside me. Before I can open my eyes, I feel a body crawl over me, followed by a loud bang as a hand slams down on the clock beside me. The momentary silence is welcome as I try to regain my wits. Yet, it is short-lived.
“I’m late for work!” she shrieks. “I have to get ready.”
Finally opening my eyes, my vision is blurry at first, but the view becomes clearer when the bare body of the blonde from the bar last night launches into a room I recall is the bathroom. This is the perfect out for me. It’s always such a pain when they want me to stay or have breakfast. As shuffling noises come from the other side of the door, I quickly dress myself.
Usually, I feel pretty well after a night like this, but not today. The pit in my stomach grows more painful the longer I stand here, facing the reality of my poor actions from last night. Knocking on the bathroom door, I call to her, “I’m heading home now. Thank you for a fun night.”
She pokes her head out with only a towel wrapped around her. Modesty is welcome—it sets boundaries. “I put my number in your phone last night. Let’s get coffee sometime.”
“Great,” I lie. “Have a good day.”
“You too,” she replies, and I take my leave.
When I get outside and look around at the familiar street, I remember her place isn’t too far from the boys’ place, and I decide to walk back to clear my mind a little. It just so happens that this route does include Lucy’s apartment. It’s early, and she had a headache. Surely,there’s no chance of us crossing paths. I look at the rows of townhomes and wonder which could belong to her.
Our coffee shop is open and filled with customers and I contemplate stopping in but decide against it as it may be obvious to the staff and patrons that I’m dressed in my evening wear from last night at 9:00 a.m. Just then, the one person who would recognize my clothes from last night walks into the street, Lucy.
She notices me immediately and looks me up and down. Any other time, I’m sure I would find this extremely appealing, but in this case, it just feels embarrassing.
“Good morning,” I say casually. She can’t be surprised. She practically insisted Ihave funlast night.
Her voice is low and snarky, “Sure looks like it was for you.” Is that anger I hear, or even better…maybe jealousy?
“Yes, I took your directive and decided to have a very fun evening after you left.” I should be asking how her head is feeling, but that’s not what I do. No, I make matters worse. “You left early—you can’t be cross if your evening was less than desirable.”
“My night was wonderful, we simply have different ideas of a good night.” I’m sure I could show her a great night…
“It could have been a great night if you stayed” Before I can stop myself, I continue to what? Flirt with her? Antagonize her? “You don’t know how it could have ended.”
Lucy’s jaw drops. “I am certain if I stayed, I would not have been interested in a random man like you coming upto me with an offer of a good time just to do the walk of shame the next morning.” That’s exactly what I did, but why was she so upset by this? Why was I?
Lucy looks up at me. “You might want to wipe the lipstick off your collar if you don’t want anyone else to know that you’re just walking home now.”
