I Do

Pamela approached her mother, Sandra, sipping her morning coffee.

“I’m thinking of moving out, Mom.”

Her mother set the steaming cup onto the saucer.

“None too soon. You’re what, twenty-five?”

Her mother’s reaction didn’t surprise Pamela. She’d heard such murmurings her whole life.

Sandra never forgave the pangs Pamela’s birth gave her. Everything she said to Pamela came wrapped in the burden of her unpaid debt.

“Who you moving in with?”

“Uhm… actually, Carl asked me to live with him.”

“Ohhh no. Seen how that plays out. He gets a live-in maid ‘til you fall preggers. Then you’re stuck looking for new digs with a kid in tow.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What you say now… You pop a kid out, who’s gonna watch him? Not Cindy. Not me.”

“I know, mom. I’m watching Dexter now.”

Pamela’s sister’s four-year-old, Dexter, sprawled on the living room floor, drawing. Crayons were strewn everywhere.

He looked up. “What’s preggers?”

Pamela blinked. “Oh, that’s grown-up talk for P.G… parental guidance. Parents decide if a movie is too scary for kids.”

He stared as if she were speaking a foreign language and returned to his picture.

Sandra continued. “Guys don’t want kids. Don’t care about marriage. Just want to mess around… shack up... What you have is a situationship.”

Pamela didn’t take the bait. She poured a coffee.

Sandra tried another tack. “Should go back to school. Get a profession. And a good man. Gonna be a bar maid forever?”

“We talked about that, mom. Beauty school didn’t…”

“Become a teacher. Steady work watching other people’s kids. You’re great with Dex. Good money. Time off.”

Pamela nodded.

Sandra continued. “Need a backup plan… Funny about Carl. Wedding photographer, right?”

“A good one. Busy all the time.”

“So, weddings are how he makes his living. But he won’t commit to a marriage. What a romantic…”

Pamela felt her blood pressure spiking. “It’s not the time, mom. He’s booked for months.”

“Uh-huh. People find a way to do what they want.” She looked around. “What’s that sound…? Never mind… just a ticking clock...”

“Mom… right now, we enjoy our time together. We both have Mondays and Tuesdays off, have fun.”

Sandra snorted. “Fun… He’s not interested in a waitress. Need two good incomes, to make do anymore.”

Dexter held up his drawing. “Look, Pam!”

Welcoming a diversion, Pamela took the drawing. There were two female figures, each wearing red, triangular dresses. Both were smiling. One figure dominated, being either very tall, or very close. She held hands with a little boy. The second figure stood beyond a lake near a sailboat.

Pamela pointed to the large figure. “Tell me about your drawing. Is that Cindy? Your mother?”

Dexter reacted to her cluelessness. “No, that’s you, Pam. Mommy’s getting on the boat.”

“Oh… Want to read a book before I go to work?”

~

Pamela called Carl while driving to work.

He picked up. “Hey, babe. Great timing. Just came out of the darkroom. Some amazing shots this weekend.”

“I told my mom.”

“And?”

“She wants me out. But not with you.”

“I thought she liked me.”

“It’s not that. It’s the situation. We have no plan.”

“We’re planning to live together…”

“She’s old fashioned, Carl.” The silence felt interminable. “Didn’t say, but think she wants…”

“Grandkids?”

“Stability… like I said, a plan… It’s complicated.”

“So, what do you want?”

She looked at the phone in disbelief.

“What do you say, we take our time? You know…?”

Carl stifled a chuckle. “Time… Whatever you say… All the time in the world.”

“I better go. Just got to work.”

“Yeah, got proofs to check. Talk later.”

Pamela pulled into the lot and killed the engine. She practiced ‘calm breathing’ for several minutes before punching in.

Pamela didn’t work in a dive, but at Trevor’s, an upscale watering hole, downtown. The backlit bar highlighted the best liquors, appealing to the suit and tie crowd. Lawyers and executives met there for night caps and debriefing after meetings. Alcoves provided privacy for quiet conversation. Its leather upholstery and designer chandeliers made everyone feel at home.

Considering Trevor’s reputation, some regulars hardly fit expectations.

Pamela had known Chas for years. Even in this low-lite environment, Chas looked out of place. His goatee begged for a trim. He came in most nights, in jeans and a t-shirt. She doubted he owned a tie. Scruffy hair escaped from under his slouch hat. She saw him once in a borrowed leather jacket.  

Her mother would describe Chas as ‘bohemian.’ But never a poor mouth, he always tipped. Pamela thought he worked in the arts.

On occasion, he spoke to the suits like one of the guys. But most times, he retreated to a corner table, nursed a bourbon or two and drifted out before closing. He had a playful manner with Pamela. He flirted but she couldn’t take him seriously.

Royce though, always looked like he belonged. He dressed well and smiled easily. When he arrived, Pamela always felt like an extra in a movie and he was the star. But Royce brought no drama with him. Only a sense of ease, a springy step, things controlled and going as they should.

Royce often brought clients with him. He provided them anything within the confines of his limitless expense account. When not with clients, he’d sit at the bar and pass time talking with Pamela, or Austin, the bartender.

Friendly and always real, she never felt talked down to. But it never went further.

Was he married? Single? Pamela couldn’t read him. He came to drink, not to hit on her.

But why not? She always made him laugh. When with clients, he always sat at one of her tables and tipped generously. Could such a confident guy actually be shy? It made no sense.

Chas settled into his favorite corner and waved her over.

“Hey, Pam. The usual… Jack Daniels and a water chaser, please.”

She signaled to Austin. He nodded. She retrieved the drink and placed it on Chas’ table.

He smiled up at her. “Marry me, Pam.”

Surprised, she stifled a laugh. “So, I can serve you Jack at home?”

“Well, yeah. JD. And other stuff.”

“Chas, how would getting hitched change what we have here?”

He wasn’t expecting push back. “We get along so well. Why not enjoy it twenty-four-seven?”

“I get it. And if I ever needed you for something, I’d find you here?”

Chas looked disappointed. “No, really. Let’s go out.”

“Where will you take me? The parking lot? Your car’s back seat? You still live at home?”

“I have a place. It’s nice.” He sounded defensive.

“I wasn’t expecting this, Chas. You shouldn’t joke about such things.”

“Pam… I wasn’t joking.”

“Then you need to work on presentation. I’m in the middle of my shift.”

She turned away and greeted a couple who had just entered. They sat and she took their order.

From behind the bar, Austin grinned at Pam and nodded toward Chas.

“You handled that well.”

“Thanks. Came out of the blue. I mean, really?”

“Think you can do better. Meeting guys in bars, even a nice bar, is not a formula for…”

“But I met Carl here.”

Austin’s look said it all. He set her customer’s drinks on her tray. She left to serve them.

Pamela returned and nodded. “Point taken… So, tell me, if not bars, where do you meet women?”

“At work.”

She laughed. “But you work here.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m single.”

“You want to be? You’re a nice guy.”

He smiled. “You want to get together?”

Pamela rolled her eyes. “Wow! I’m on a streak. We could put the nursery in that alcove.”

They laughed.

Having known each other for years, Pamela and Austin had an easy rapport. But always a work friendship that worked, neither wanted to jeopardize that. At least she didn’t.

The sound of laughter preceded Royce’s entrance with three clients. He greeted Pamela and signaled for a bottle of champagne. She knew the label. The laughter continued while they settled at a table.

She brought glasses and opened the bottle. Pamela poured a sip for Royce’s approval. When he nodded, she filled each glass and placed the bottle into a chill bucket.

Raising his glass for a toast, Royce nodded to Pamela indicating they needed nothing else. 

She retreated to her neutral territory near the bar. There, she could survey the room and respond to any customer’s needs.

And there she dwelled on the fact that no one seemed to need her. Was it about marriage? Her mother’s rant latched onto her and wouldn’t let go. She decided marriage wasn’t it. Or only it.

‘But why are guys so lame? Don’t they ever want more from life than imitation Formica? Shiny and shallow. Doesn’t anyone but me get lonely?’

She watched her ‘suitors’ with wonder. Content to sleepwalk through life, they spent their time pouring drinks, making deals, or nursing another Jack Daniels.

Then there was Carl. Clueless Carl. His thrill was spending hours in a darkroom, alone. Hoo boy and hot damn! Got a live one!

She thought, ‘There has to be someone out there I can connect with. One person who sees me. With whom I can share myself. Be the real me.’

She felt she could check ‘none of the above’ on her list of suitable mates. ‘I want to be wanted… Stop fishing in the shallow end of the dating pool.’

Pamela finished her shift without further incident. She came home to a dark house. Locking up, she went straight to bed and lay sleepless until dawn.

She had decided marriage was not the issue, yet that word hovered over her all night. It had always been the ideal. With what do you replace it? How? When?

‘Is there an answer to that? Hello? Anyone?’

She must have dozed. Birds singing outside her bright window brought hazy focus.

She murmured, “Someone… coffee… please… coffee…” Would those be her last words?

Pulling herself from bed, she crawled into her robe and groped her way to the bathroom.

Somewhat refreshed, she found her way to the kitchen. Cartoon melodies flowed from the TV in the living room

The word that had assaulted her mind for hours would not leave her alone. Marriage.

Reaching for the coffee pot, Pamela said, “Doesn’t anyone want to marry me?”

Dexter ran in from his cartoon show.

He said, “I do…”