Closing Time

It had been three months since the divorce was final. Had to move out of the house that we planned on growing old together. Been living in an apartment downtown, not ideal but it’s all I could afford. It was all my fault really, no one to blame but me, yet I’m still sore. 

“Are you coming tonight?” That's what she said, In her soft, sweet tone.

I had met her a few weeks prior, at a work event, a Christmas party. She came into the room with all the confidence in the world. Her jet-black hair, loose down her shoulders, contrasting with her white blouse. Her lips’ the color of cherry, always wearing a grin wherever she goes. She was new, just been here a couple of weeks and already got the place wrapped around her slim fingers. 

We shared a pleasant conversation. She was a charming lady, that and her beauty and smell of some expensive perfume. From that day onwards, we saw each other more often, sometimes at work, other times at a restaurant or a bar. Bought her a gift or two, nothing too expensive, nothing too inappropriate. She was a real good talker, a real people pleaser, knew all the right words to say to get into someone’s head. We never did anything more a than a kiss or an embrace, it was just all dumb fun.

“Yes.” I answered.

The night went by in a haze, wine and cigarettes. We made love on the couch, on the table, on the bed, it was a fun night. There was no passion behind it, like I said, it was just for fun. Yet, it didn’t stop me from going back. She was like a drug, a drug I just can’t shake, and at the time, I don’t think I wanted to. 

I went out for a drink, a new bar in a new town. A seedy place, smelt of sweat and rot. Though, I couldn’t stomach going back to the bar I once was a regular. I couldn’t stand seeing her there, and I’m sure she is there, to drink it all away, just like what I’m doing now, five miles apart. I drink and drink, whatever they serve me, I don't care. People come and go, but I stay here. I don’t want to go home, all it did was remind me of what I lost, all of it for a few nights with a black-haired girl from human resources.

I was working at a convenience store when we first met. I had just started working after college, she was a year younger than me and would come by often. At first, I thought she lived nearby, but later she told me that she came to see me. We went out for a coffee, it was real romantic, she kissed me on the cheek and told me “We should do this again sometimes”. 

She got a job in a tailor shop next to the convenience store. We would walk to work together, now that she moved in to live with me in my cramped little apartment. We worked there for a few years, saving what we could, living a modest life, but a happy one. Got ourselves a second-hand Oldsmobile from my, at the time, boss at a very friendly price. We drove from day till night, our hair blowing in the wind, the radio blasting rock n’ roll, not a care in the world. 

I was offered a position in a big company, sales assistant, office job. I accepted. The pay was real good, plus insurance, a thing I never had before. She also got a job at a local school, an English teacher. It was almost too good to be true. Everything's coming together now, we thought.

We finally bought our very own house, me and hers first. It was beautiful. We moved right in, spent time cleaning, decorating. It was tiring, but I never was so happy in my life. A month later we were married. The wedding was not really glamorous like some would like it, but we didn’t care. We drove that busted Oldsmobile to the countryside, her gown blowing in the wind, my hat forever lost in some grass field, the cans cranking against the road, a time of our lives.

I stumble outside the bar. “Closing time.” they said, but I didn’t want to leave. I wonder what she's doing now that the bar closes, probably just getting home. I couldn’t go home, not to my real home anyway. I sit down on the sidewalk, chilling from head to toe, just to stop it all for a moment.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” She would say that to me every morning. We would get ready together, eat breakfast together, go off to work together. Me, her and that busted, old Oldsmobile. We would drive down the road, not as fast as I’d like. I would drop her off at the school, say goodbye and we’ll kiss. I would drive to the office, working, on the phones, over and over again. It was a routine.

As the sunsets I would head back to her school, she’d wave me over, a big smile on her face. We would drive back on home, the radio playing soft blues. We would tell each other how our day has been, though my story doesn't sound interesting in the slightest, but it’s nice to see her so enthusiastic about it, she loves her job, and she sure loved telling me about it.

We had our ups and downs, like all relationships, but in the end I still love her. We fight here and there, but in the end I still love her. I made mistakes, lost in the heat of the moment, but in the end I still love her. We always came through, but this time, it seems, the wound’s too deep, and I’m the one with the knife.

I could get to a motel somewhere, get a place to sleep for the night. That damn Oldsmobile is just down the road, in the parking lot. The keys’ in my pocket, along with my wallet, picture of her still inside. But I just can’t drive it, not anymore, without her in my arms, it’s no longer the same. I’m too tired now, too drunk to go anywhere. I’ll just rest for a bit, maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow. Maybe it’s all just a bad dream and she’ll wake me up when the sun rises.