Chapter 9

If I had to guess whether the bar we entered was going to be in business tomorrow, it would be a tough one to decide. While there was one patron tucked away in the darkest corner, smoking and drinking, no others were visible. A short, balding man was behind the bar, leaning on it, wondering if we were planning on moving more than two steps into the place. Another woman approached us and wiped a table where the lights were working. “You can sit here if you want,” she said pleasantly as she pulled out one of the chairs.

I motioned for Alison to take the seat, and I moved to the one across from her. We took off our coats and moved our bags out of the way. A small circular table with two chairs seemed cozy enough for me.

“Thank you,” I said to the woman now hovering over us.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“Vodka gimlet,” Alison answered quickly and then stared at me.

“Just a soda, I guess.” I looked up at the woman and smiled until she left.

“You don’t drink?”

“Not really.”

Alison sat back and sighed. “This is pretty cozy once you get past the fact that it should be condemned.” She looked around the place while we waited for the woman to come back with our drinks. “Thank you,” Alison said, and the woman walked away again.

“So, how are you doing?” I asked, looking at my unopened can of soda.

“I’m okay, I guess.” She took a small sip of her drink and put it down. “Oh, that’s good.”

I wiped the top of my can off with a napkin and then opened it, pouring most of its contents into a small glass with ice. “To our first day,” I said, holding up my glass.

She clinked my glass and said, “Salute!”

“You speak Italian?” I joked.

She took another sip and looked at me. “What do I look like?”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m Italian?”

“I don’t know.” I squinted and looked at her closely. “You’re more pale than olive, but your eyes are brownish, I think.” I sat back and frowned. “Absolutely atrocious, really.”

She smiled and took another sip. “Iranian, you idiot. Remember me telling CS?”

I did finally remember that comment from lunch, so I mockingly wiped my brow. “That’s a relief. Why the Italian cheer then?”

“Really?” she acted surprised by my question. “Alcohol is sort of not allowed.”

“But there has to be something you shout at a wedding or party, right?”

“Not while holding a glass of alcohol.” She took another sip. “What about you. Where’s your family from?”

“Father’s side Germany, mother’s side England. I like to tell everyone I’m Swedish though.”

“Why?”

“Because they are cooler. Everyone loves the Vikings and Thor.” I tapped the table nervously. “Were you born here?”

“You weren’t listening earlier at all.”

I remember watching her lips moving but not focusing on the words coming out.

“Actually I was born there. My parents came to America and became citizens, but my grandparents didn’t want to leave Tehran. When things started to heat up before the revolution, my parents went back to make them leave. I was born before they returned.”

“So you have dual citizenship then.”

After a long sip, she shook her head. “No.”

“Really, I would have thought that would be a good thing.”

“We’re not talking about Germany or England here. You remember that whole hostage thing too. I would imagine my family would not be welcomed back warmly. That could all change, like everything does, given time. For now, we are all flag-waving Americans.” She twirled her index finger in the air and then finished her drink.

“Are you ready to go?”

“No way, I’m just getting started.” She flagged the waitress and got another one brought quickly. “Where do you live?” she asked, sipping the new one.

“In the southwest part of the city. How about you?”

“I have an apartment downtown.”

“That makes it pretty easy then. It takes me about half an hour by trolley.”

“I could walk it if the weather was beautiful, but I’ll catch a bus. Takes about fifteen minutes that way.”

I sipped my soda and sat back. “What do you think of work?”

“I was surprised they wanted me to fire those two today.” She took another sip. “They needed to go, I guess, but not on my first day.”

“I agree.”

“After lunch, I had a meeting with Cedar and HR. We talked about their past performance and how it was well documented that they weren’t doing well. So they were just waiting for a new exec to be the bad guy.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I wanted to talk to them to see if things would be better with me as their boss, but that was not an option. They kept them on just to fill the gap until I arrived. Now I’ve got to pick up the pieces and figure out what needs to be done while interviewing for replacements. They told me I might only get one to start.”

I could tell she was trying to control her emotions. “You’ll be fine.”

“I wish I shared your confidence. I abandoned a really good job to work at this place. They’re great on paper.” She took a big gulp and put the glass down roughly. “How about you? What job did you come from?”

“I was actually on the other side of the country until my sister called. When my parents died, I left and never planned on coming back. So this is actually my first real job. Doing dishes and cutting grass aside, of course.”

“Why did your sister call?”

“Oh, her husband died.” I moved my glass around on the table, spreading out the accumulated condensation.

“Sorry, forgot that part.”

It was her turn not to remember what I said earlier. Not really listening must be what everyone does. Another problem I have is remembering what I’ve told people in the past so I don’t feel like I’m constantly repeating myself.

“That was nice of you.”

“It was time for me to stop being such a brooding brat. She’s my only family. Well, her and the two kids.”

“How old are they?”

“Aaron is like two, and Quinn is less than a year. Still little.”

Alison smiled at me, and it made me a little uncomfortable. “Do you like kids?”

“I like those two. Every other kid is annoying.”

“Do you want kids?” She took another big sip.

“Never really thought about that,” I lied. I could not, under any circumstance, imagine myself wanting to change diapers or be woken up from a perfect dream to feed a screaming noise machine. “Maybe someday.”

“Yeah, me too.” She tapped her fingers gently on the table.

“You going out with someone now?” I held my breath without thinking.

She laughed and took another sip. “I wish.” I blew out the breath slowly and felt very happy.

“I am sure you’ll find the person when the time is right.”

She looked at me for a long time. “How old are you?”

I knew I was older than her, but now wasn’t the time to bring it up. “Twenty-five.”

She pursed her lips and grabbed my chin. She turned my head to the left and then to the right and let go, taking another sip. “You need to grow a beard. You look like a little kid yourself.”

I made a mental note to stop shaving. “Okay. Anything else?”

“You should dress a little more professional.”

“They went casual. No turning back. Anyway, I only have those skinny ties that my dad wore.”

“Do you really like that style?”

“I will never be caught alive wearing one of those wide, crazy-patterned ones, if you must know. Skinny or nothing.”

“You would look like one of the Blues Brothers.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I drained my glass and poured the rest of the can into my glass.

“So you really don’t drink?” She grabbed the soda can and read the ingredients. “This stuff is probably worse than alcohol.” She put the can back and took another sip of her drink.

“Never acquired the taste. I’ve had stuff before, but it makes my head go all funny.”

“That’s the point, silly.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You want to try mine?”

“What’s in it?”

“Vodka and lime juice.” She pushed the glass toward me.

I smelled it and took a sip. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either.

“Did it make your head go all funny?”

“No.”

“You have to find something that works for you.”

I held up my glass and shrugged.

“Not that. What are you going to do if you go to a cocktail party?”

“Like that’s ever going to happen.”

“You’re probably right.” She took another sip and sat quietly for a while. “Are you happy?”

The question seemed odd, but I wanted to answer honestly. “Right now I’m happy.”

“What kind of stupid answer is that?”

“Happiness comes and goes. It all depends on the circumstance. Right now I’m happy. Get it?”

She finished her drink and waved for another. After a sizeable gulp on the new one, she sat back and stretched. “Okay, Mister Dictionary, let me ask it another way. Do you feel like your life has meaning or a purpose?”

“Wow, is that the alcohol, or are you really that deep?” I took a sip of my drink. “I get nothing like that from mine.” I took another sip. “Nope, nothing.”

She grinned. “I’m serious.”

“I take it day by day. I find purpose where I can. Give me something to do for you, and I’ll never run out of purpose.”

She looked at me strangely. “What?”

“If you told me you liked roses, I would constantly be on the lookout until I found the perfect ones for you. I’d give them to you. As long as you keep talking to me, I’ll never run out of purpose.” I leaned forward. “Do you get it?”

“Not really, but it seems to work for you.”

“The more I know about you, the more I can help.”

“Help?”

“Isn’t that what friends do?”

She was shocked. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

“Oh, sorry. Coworkers. Fellow associates. People you work with can’t be friends. Forgot that for a second.”

“You constantly go between being cool and a complete fool.”

“And you constantly are there to remind me. See, you found your purpose. As long as you know me, you can steer me back onto the correct path, and I’ll be at your beck and call. Does that work for you?”

She finished her drink and sat quietly again. “I’ve been hurt before.”

“You told me that when we came out of HR earlier today. Do you want to talk about it?”

“What we are doing here tonight is how things should be. I should feel safe to talk honestly and openly about everything.”

“You’re right.”

“Well, some people, I’ve learned the hard way, like to use this stuff against you when backed against a wall.”

“Is that why you started looking for another job?”

She nodded. “I started noticing some people knew a little bit more about me than I had told them. Little things, but still you don’t want everyone knowing everything.”

“I try to be an open book myself, but I totally understand what you mean. You have my word that what goes on between us will stay that way.”

“I will hold you to that.” She pointed at me and made a mean face.

“So, are we friends now?” I was hoping she would tell me that she wanted something more.

“If I have to. Would that make me your only friend?”

Her question made me chuckle for a few seconds. “Honestly, it would.”

“Being an open book isn’t always fun when you have to admit that kind of stuff.”

I nodded as I moved my glass around on the table again. “Remember, I’ve been away for a bunch of years.”

“You made no friends the entire time you were somewhere else?”

I had to think about that for a few seconds. “I guess there were a few people I was friendly with, but no one I would call a friend. I picked up my entire life and moved back here and haven’t looked back since.”

“Maybe you should look back every once in a while, and you’ll see you’ve left some people behind. What about friends from school or from your neighborhood, growing up?”

Somehow the tables were turned, and I was the one answering all the questions. “People change. They move on.”

“You don’t stay in touch?”

“Have I ever told you how socially stunted I am?”

“No excuse.”

“But if I had any more friends, then I wouldn’t be available every time you called.”

“I have no plans to call you, so you’ll be fine.”

“I guess I’ll have to be the one carrying the relationship then.”

“We’ll have to see what my parents think about you first.”

“Wait, I’m not marrying you, am I?”

“Would that be so bad?”

“You’re not Italian.”

“Bad things always happen when the Germans and Italians come together.”

I laughed. “That’s why I tell people I’m Swedish.”

“Now I see.” She clapped. “There’s still hope for us then.”

I stared at her in the awkward silence that followed. “Do you want another one of those?” I asked, pointing at her empty glass.

It took her a moment to see her watch in the dim light. “I would love to hang out with you all night, but it’s probably a good idea if I head home.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

“What are we, back in elementary school? I’ve got a bus to catch.”

“I thought you said you would walk home if the weather was nice. Seemed nice when we got in here.”

“It’ll take a while. Are you sure you want to?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to go and nothing better to do.”

“All right, give me a minute, and I’ll get myself ready.” She stood up slowly to clear her head and moved toward the bar, holding onto the chairs as she went. After paying the bill, she disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes.

By the time she came out, I was chewing the last piece of ice in my empty glass. “Ready?”

“I think so.”

I helped her put on her coat, and she slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling seductively.

I put on my coat, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. Pushing it open revealed that it was raining rather heavily.

“ Well, that changes things,” I said, turning to see her reaction.

“I better catch a cab.”

“What about the bus?”

“I’m not standing out there waiting for a bus. Plus”—she said quietly—“I’d probably fall asleep and miss my stop.”

She asked the bartender if he could call a cab for her, and then we waited by the door until it arrived.

“I’ll have to have you over some other time,” she said and then ran out to the cab, covering her head with her bag.

When she was out of sight, I headed toward the trolley so I could go home.

read Chapter 10