His mind floated back in time to things that could have been, and it landed upon the memory of a woman. There was a certain bar that he and friends had once frequented, a somewhat seedy, two-story establishment with an open center, allowing for a view of the entire area from everywhere but the pool tables and bathrooms. It served Bud Light by the pitcher with plastic cups, though everyone was convinced that it was really Milwaukee’s Beast, and he and his friends would often gamble on 3 ball or hold a table all night with 9 ball. The drunker he got, the better he was. And, while they played, a regular would deal coke near the bathrooms, a cop no less. But he never partook of that kind of high.
He’d often get there early, wanting to get out of his house, away from the grief, and would sit up on the second floor and people watch, waiting for his friends. A few employees had come and gone during the time he made that place one of his main watering holes, but one of them, a newer waitress at the time, now came floating back to his mind. She had been gorgeous—dark, curly hair, deep brown eyes, full lips, and pale skin. She almost seemed as if she did not belong in that town, and he’d never known if she had been from there. But, one night, as he was sitting by himself and the place was nearly empty, she came and sat with him, bringing him a free pitcher. She’d never done that before, and hadn’t so much as even said hello to him before then. But that night she sat next to him, close, and started asking him questions, nothing deep, just random conversation starters. Then, to his confusion and , subsequent, consternation, she put her hand on his thigh. This was not a strip a joint. The waitresses had no reason to cajole the customers in that way. He let it go, knowing that she had a boyfriend, as a tall, preppy-looking asshole, who, to him, seemed rather controlling, would occasionally show up looking for her. And before she went back to making her rounds, she ran her hand across his back. The rest of that night, he caught her looking at him, but he chalked it up to her being friendly out of the blue for whatever reason.
The next time he went in, on one of those endless Thursday nights when he and his friends would be up until 4 am, as soon he’d entered and acknowledged the bouncer, who never charged him and his friends the cover, he found her immediately before him. And, before he could even say hello, she had draped herself over him. It wasn’t a friendly hug. He had known many types of embraces, and he was very familiar with what that one said in silence. The bouncer looked confused. Although he would have returned her interest, he made no effort, as he was not the type to interfere in other people’s relationships, even if one of them were willing. But he had to wonder about it all the same, wonder why she would have suddenly wanted him, in an almost needy way. He wondered if she had broken it off with the control freak.
Though he continued to go back there for a few more months, every Thursday, sometimes on the weekend, before the scene died and he and his friends abandoned it for other venues, he never saw her there again. She had quit, maybe been fired, though he couldn’t imagine why she would have been. He found it depressing, as he would have liked to be her friend and her face made his heart lighter. She was just gone.
On a night about six months later or so, he and a friend were buying beer at a local convenience store to take back to his friend’s apartment to watch movies, when he looked up to find a familiar pair of smoldering, deep brown eyes locked onto him. Though he wanted to say hi, at least wave, ask her where’d she disappeared to, he froze. Her eyes shown with fear but not for him, and they quickly darted out to a car in the parking lot, where her preppy boyfriend was clearly waiting for her. She looked back and the sadness in her eyes was apparent, as, without saying a word, without acknowledging him in any other way, she left the store, abandoning whatever she had come in for. He watched as they pulled away, and, after that, he never saw her again.
He could only surmise what had happened, and he figured that someone at the bar had told on her, about how she had hugged him and been showing him more attention than she should have been. The preppy jerkoff had likely made her quit. But it was also apparent to him that she had been seeking an escape, someone to run to, and he felt that it was clear that her boyfriend was abusive. Nothing else explained her fear that night. She did not want the man child in the car to see her talking to him.
He could only hope that she, eventually, found her way out of that nightmare, but, the statistics were against her, and she likely ended up married to him. Too many women in life fell into the trap of men like that and could not break away, could not change their circumstances. And they eventually just accepted it, let go of their personhood, their independence, and just gave up. He wished all men like that would simply drop dead, but there were more of them than most people realized. But maybe she got away. Maybe she found a way out and found some happiness. That was his hope for her, as it had been for others and would be for still others in the future, though he knew of more than one who ended up paying the ultimate price for their mistaken trust. It was something he would never understand, as men like that rarely tried very hard to hide what they were.