Home

I sat in the back.  Alone and in the corner.

It had taken me so long to get here. Both in time and physicality.  And yet here I was, 5 years later. 

I sipped my beer.  This was the third bar tonight night.  It wasn’t a big town. I could’ve asked the bartenders “You ever see this guy?  Drinks Bud and whiskey on bad days.”  But I didn’t want him to know I was here.

I took another sip.  This was his kind of bar.  But, so were the others, and he wasn’t there either.  So I waited.


After I first left, I didn’t want to see him.  That’s usually the case after a break up.  I went to the farthest place I could think of.  A place he would never come look for me.  New York City.  Too busy for him, too many people.  And just right for me.  I could blend in, I could stand out, and nobody cared. 

But after awhile I got tired of it.  What I call RFS set in- Restless Feet Syndrome.
Not a real disease but real enough for me.

Then north to Alaska.  Fishing and crabbing season didn’t last long but bartending I made some good money and stayed busy enough not to think.  But I got RFS again when it slowed down. 

After that was Georgia.  Down home roots and sweet tea.  Now that’s what I needed.  Where family and friends meant something.  I was there for awhile. 

But I found myself always looking up when the bells on the diner door jingled.  Whenever a new car was spotted in town.  It took me some time to realize that I was waiting for something.  Waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.

I had to make the decision. If I wanted to make it happen.  To go find him.

But, I convinced myself that I was finding closure.  That I just wanted to shut those doors forever. 

I packed my car and headed west. To where he had been all along.  I had just kept hoping that he would have been looking for me.
 
But here I sat.  Sipping my beer in the third bar that night. 


A few customers.  Some locals.  A few sideways glances at me, nobody seemed to recognize me. And no one said anything to me. 

The door opened.  She stopped a few feet inside the door.  Searching. Something about her made me pay attention to her.  She had an air of desperation about her.  But sad, angry, confusion.

She walked to the bar and had a quick and disappointing conversation with the bar keep.
 
“Well, if he comes in let him know I am looking for him ok?” she asked as she left.

“Yeah, sure.” Said the bar keeper noncommittally as he wiped down a glass.

A few seconds and the back door opened. Spilling light from the street light into the dark bar.  I instinctively ducked my head and pulled my hat down lower. 

He walked into the bar.

I dared a peek.  A few grunts, a couple of greetings from the locals at the end of the bar.  He had a Bud in front of him almost immediately.

“It’s him.”  I breathed.  I sat still.

“Hey, your old lady is looking for ya.”  The bartender told him.

“Yeah, my old lady.  You know better than that.” He gruffed.

My heart starting beating faster.

He took a swig, swiveled on his bar stool, put an elbow on the bar, and looked around.  He stopped in my direction.  He paused, for just a second, mid drink and stared briefly my way.

My first instinct was to run.  But like all predators he would have loved the chase.  So I sat there.  Reached for my beer and look a long sip. 

He turned back to the bar and called the bartender over.  He leaned in and quietly asked him a question.  I saw the bartender look up past His shoulder and look at me.  He gave a shrug and looked at his watch.  No doubt telling him that I came in alone, about an hour ago, and I was drinking a Bud Light.
 
He glanced suspiciously back over his shoulder at me.

I was getting ready to throw a few dollars on the table and leave- hopefully unnoticed- when the front door opened again.

What walked in made everyone look. And then look away if they wanted to save their marriages. There was a collective holding of breaths in the room. 

The dress…short and red, diamonds and bling flashing, with high heels and perfect hair.  She sauntered in and paused, making sure everyone got to look at her.

Her eyes landed on him. She smiled, flipped her hair over her bare shoulder, and glided next to him. 

I saw him jump as she grabbed his crotch and leaned in to lick his ear lobe.  My stomach dropped.

He grabbed her wrist and twisted it away from him.

“Knock it off.”  He growled at her.

“Awww, come on.  You didn’t tell me to stop the last time.”  She purred.
 
“Go waste someone else's time and money.”  He turned back to his beer.

She attempted more tricks.  After a few more tries she laughed and stood up.  She whispered something in his ear and walked away.

I thought I was going to be sick.  He glanced over his shoulder at me again.

I finished the last of my warm beer and grabbed my purse.



Later that night as I lay in the bed at the motel I thought about what I saw.  I knew one thing for sure…I didn’t like the cougar in red. 


It was a day or so before I went back to the bar.  I debated on how soon to go back.  Not if I would, or wouldn’t go back, but when.
 
Plus I wasn’t sure how my heart was going to handle it.  His “old lady” kept going through my head, and the purring kitty kat in red. 


I picked the same table as before and sipped my beer.

This time I was more ready when he walked in.  This time he didn’t even look in my direction.

There were fewer locals in the bar this time.

He was into his 3rd silent beer when the front door opened.  Again the confusion, anger, and hurt. She paused in the doorway. 

She took a quick breath and for the bar stool next to him.  He didn’t turn to look at her.  The bartender asked if she wanted anything.  She just shook her head. 

A long silence that made that began to make me feel uncomfortable, was broken when she finally said, “I haven’t heard from you.  You haven’t called.”

He didn’t answer.  It was more of a statement anyways.  What was he going to say?

The bartender looked up and saw me watching the scene.  He came around the bar and to my table.
 
“Another one?”

“Umm, sure.”  I mumbled, hoping that I wasn't drawing attention to myself. 

He came back a minute later and set the beer on the table.  He hesitated.  Even the bartender didn’t want to go back to the bar.

“She’s trying too hard.”  he half said to me.

“Huh?”  I was a little surprised that he would offer up information.

“She’s trying too hard.”  He repeated and turned to fully face me.  “She’s a good woman.  Would make a good wife even.  But he’s haunted.  Something hangs over him like a dark cloud.”

I could feel my heart thumping.
 
“Haunted, huh?  Interesting way of putting it.”  I said.

He shrugged.  “Best way I can describe it.”  He shrugged again and headed back to the bar.

I looked back to Him and her.  I felt for her.  I had been in her shoes before. 

The questions, the heart ache, the so wanting to know.  Just to know that he cared!  Something, anything.  A gesture, a kind word, a look, would have been enough.
 
I knew how she felt.

I remembered how I tried to hard to make it work between us.  And then one day I wanted all the hurt to stop.  So I left.
It was the hardest day of my life. 

After a few more minutes she got up.  She was crying.

“You are a good woman.  And you will make someone very happy.  I don’t have those feelings for you.  And that’s not fair to you.”  He said quietly.

“I bet you have never had those feelings for someone!”  She screamed, tears streaming down her face.  “I bet you are incapable of loving anyone!”

“No. That’s not true.  I have loved.  And that’s why I want you to find someone to love. And someone that will love you back.”  He said calmly.
 
A firm and final statement of the end.

She blinked.  Wiped the tears from her face, and said what all women have said before in our lives. 

“You have lost the best thing that ever happened to you!”  She turned and stumbled out the door.

I breathed out.  I didn't know that I had been holding my breath.

Suddenly, I needed fresh air.  Frantic, I searched for the bathroom and headed for it. 

A few minutes later I headed back to my table. I glanced at the bar.  He wasn’t there.  I felt disappointed. 

Halfway back to my table I almost stumbled mid stride. 

He was sitting at my table.

His back was to me.  My first instinct was to keep walking right out the door, but I realized I had left my purse at the table.

“Idiot.”  I scolded myself. 

I took a deep breath, stood up taller, composed myself and walked to my table.

I sat down and studied his face.  So much the same face as when I left.  The face I longed for.  The face I longed to kiss, to touch.

“So.  How long was it going to be before you talked to me?”  He asked.

“What do you mean ‘how long’?”  I asked, playing dumb.

“You have been in town 4 nights now.  You are staying at the motel at the other end of town, you’re driving a blue jeep and you have eaten at the Mexican place in town 2 nights in a row.”
 
A small smirk went across his face when I couldn’t hide my surprise.

“Don’t tell me you thought you could come into town without me noticing.”  He said as he leaned in across my table.

I thought I could do just that actually.  Apparently not.

“So, was that scene over there for my benefit then?” I asked.

“No. That had been a long time coming.  It just so happened that you were here to witness it.”

“So you were with her?”  My heart stinging a little.

“Yes.  She’s a very sweet girl.  But I would have broken her heart. More than I did at least.”

“Like mine.”  I said before I could stop myself.

“You were the one that left me, if I remember right.”

“Well, yeah, because…”  I stuttered.  I stopped midsentence.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  It wasn’t worth the argument.  That wasn’t why I was here. 

So why was I here?

As if he could read my thoughts he asked, “Why are you here?”

That was the one question that I hoped he didn’t ask.  That maybe it would just be obvious.  That maybe he would just know so I didn’t have to say it.  Because saying it, was to put your heart out there.  For all to see, and for him to stomp on.  Once it was out there you couldn’t take it back.  Why did he have to ask that question?

And then I had an epiphany.  So what if the world knew?  He was a good man.  He was strong and stable, smart, and worth loving.  So why didn’t I want the world to know I was in love with him?  Even if he didn’t love me back, I couldn’t go wrong loving him.

“Because I love you.”

That made him lean back in his chair.

“Then why did you leave?”

“I was scared that you didn’t love me.  In fact, I thought you hated me.”

“Hated you? Why?”

“You could never look me in the eye, you kept your distance, you never let me in on your thoughts. There was always just silence.  Silence that weighed me down.  Silence that made my heart hurt.  Made me hurt, angry, confused.  I felt like I wasn’t good enough, or that you didn’t let me in because you hated me, because I wasn’t Her.”

There it was, the raw truth.  I wasn’t Her.  I wasn’t his first love.  The one he would have done anything for.  The one that broke his heart.  The only one he tried to make happy.  The one he tried to make a life with.  I wasn’t Her.

“No. You aren’t her.  Which is a good thing.”

“And a bad thing.  You actually tried with her.  You told her you cared.  You told her you loved her.  You told me you were over her, and ready for a relationship with me, but I felt like all I got were the scraps.  The leftovers.”

“It was very hard for me, you’re right.  I thought I was ready.  And then you were there.  All the time.  I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I felt like I got judged for all the things I did or didn’t do.”

“So you know how it feels.”  I stared him straight in the eye.  “Being judged for the things I did or did not do.  I should’ve known this was a bad idea.”  I got up and grabbed my purse and hurried to my blue jeep.

In my motel room, I threw the suitcase on the bed and started throwing my things in it.

There was a loud banging on the door.

I opened the door and stared at him.  Determined not to cry.

“May I come in?” He asked so politely. 

I left the door open and went back to my open suitcase.

“Leaving again?  Getting pretty good at that.”

“Why do you care?”  I snapped.  “At least I won’t be smothering you anymore.  I would think you would be happy!”

“Woman!”  He said gruffly as he grabbed my waist.  He stared me dead in the eye.

“You are right.  You are not her.  And I wouldn’t want you to be her.  I cared for you.  A lot.  And if you would have just stuck around long enough you would have heard me say that.  So if you want to go, I can’t stop you, but I would think that if you drove all this way, that you would want to stay.”

I wanted to lie.  I wanted not to be this close to him.  I wanted a lot of things. 

And most of all I wanted him.

I so wanted him.  And our life together.

“I want to stay.”

“Good, because I want you to stay. So pack up your shit and let’s go.”

“Go where?” I asked.

“Home.”