yellowy eyes

Sitting on the same bar stool in the same bar on the same nights. That’s the life I’ve chosen for myself. It isn’t particularly exciting. Not too fulfilling. Certainly isn’t very productive in the eyes of society. Not really worried about it either.

My dad used to be proud of me. He’d brag about my exploits in the newspaper business. He doesn’t do that anymore. I sometimes wonder if he even knows how bad it’s gotten out there. It’s mostly been tough choices that I made that I figured would make me happier in the long run. The only part of my life that I’ve ever considered the long term was relationships. Always thinking about the future, forgoing every other thought.

They’ve never panned out.

Which is how I ended up on this bar stool. Most nights. I tend to not come in on weekends. The tourists are bothersome. Their looks of disdain are fueling, but their white teeth and North Face clothing is too much to handle.

On those nights, I sit in a lawn chair outside when it’s warm. On my dirty hand-me-down couch on the cold nights, smothered by my grandmother’s blanket.

You don’t have lofty expectations when you’ve sunk that low. It’s why when I saw her, I thought nothing of it.

She had yellow circles around her eyes. They should have been yield signs. But my mind processed that to mean they weren’t stop signs.

Her laugh was intoxicating. More than the cheap $1.75 drafts of whatever cheap American swill they decided to give folks this week. I asked the barkeep one night why the shitty beer was always different. She answered honestly. Whatever kegs the distributor is trying to peddle quickest. The one’s expiring.

I ordered one for me. One for her.

The barkeep, Kim was her name, was in her early 30s. She had been a bartender in many places over the years. But was now heading down the list. She still looked good in her bikini top and shorts, but time was starting to take its toll. Especially beach time. Too much sun, too much booze and too many late nights without sleep. Still, we enjoyed each other’s company when we could. She also knew I was done trying. At least until I found something worth trying for. And we both knew neither of us were worth trying for. In our own circumstances.

She smiled when the beer was handed off. So did the barkeep. She leaned in and whispered something into her ear. Both of them laughed a long laugh. I only watched the new lady’s laugh.

Eventually she finished the beer. Looked at me right after it was done.

“Another one for the lady,” I said to Kim.

“You got it, sexy. Looks like I’m going home alone tonight, huh?”

“You’re more confident than I.”

“If you ever figured out just how sexy you really are, you’d be unstoppable.”

“You think? Anyway, you and I both know that ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I returned with a clink of cheap bar mugs.

I sat there looking at my beer. Looking at her every so often. She wasn’t worried about me. Yet. The rerun of “Charlie’s Angels” was her focus right now. I had no problem with that. It gave me time to think.

Think about when I’m not so low. Not so shy.

It only happens when I’m happy. When I’m in tow, so to speak.

The first time I noticed it was the week after I got laid for the first time. I was seeing a gal, and I could feel my chest puffing out further than it ever had. My step had a pace to it that it had never had. My posture even improved.

Then I saw her. A really cute girl I’d had a crush on for months. She knew my “girlfriend.” Hell, she’d probably heard about my 11-second mess of a couple nights earlier.

“Hi,” she said with a smile.

“How are you Kami?” I said confidently. Probably for the first time ever.

Taken aback a little, I could tell, she pondered what to say next.

Before I knew it, we’d been talking 10 minutes. Both of us realized this at about the same time -- right after a long laugh.

“Crap, I’ve got to get to class. I’m already late.”

Me being me, suggested “let’s skip and go get a drink.”

“Can’t,” she said. “Gotta go to class.”

I couldn’t believe I just asked a hot number out for a drink. And turned down.

And it didn’t bother me at all.

A few months later, after the relationship ended at a Hooter’s in Jacksonville, Florida, when she hooked up with her husband-to-be I ran into Kami again.

I looked at her. She looked at me, smiled and waved. I nodded my head and kept walking, too scared to say a word.