an old story

What is it about a woman’s back that is so sensual? The hair falling over the shoulders, the curve of the white shoulder blades, the knots of the spine leaving a disappearing trail. It was only a painting, no one I knew, but it was also all the women I’d known, the ambiguity of those shoulders, the dimples just above the jeans. And here I sat alone at a bar in daylight thinking about a painting that reminded me about all the girls but none in particular.

But she had invited me to a party she knew I couldn’t attend. But why invite me? Was it to remind me she was there in that far off city, and I was here… alone?
Suddenly I felt old. 28 is only a number, but years can be weights attached to memories, and when that’s all you have, you wonder, was it worth it? Doesn’t matter now. You can’t take it back redo what has been done. I never loved any of them, and they never loved me. They were company, and I was an escape, though I’m sitting here now alone not going anywhere especially not there not again. The last time was enough, and I’d not return until she is gone.

Storms in Chicago meant delays all day and my ride had gone leaving me at the airport trying to get on a plane, any plane, instead of waiting on my own. I ended up sitting at a wine bar not talking to the people next to me occasionally checking to see that my flight wasn’t going anywhere. Tempranillo was what I had too much of and I bought another bottle to take to her. A couple more glasses of something red on the plane, and I was drunk on the brown line trying to figure out where to go.
Finally she answered her phone, told me where to get off, and I rolled my suitcase to a stool where the ride and the wait were sobering me up, but I ordered a whiskey to fix that.
Hair stuck to her face because of the rain and she came up behind me thinking I hadn’t seen her tussling my hair saying how long it was before she sat next to me. Looking at my glass she began to ask me what I was drinking but stopped herself knowing it’d always be the same.
She ordered a cosmopolitan and leaned in close to me. But what was this? I didn’t know, so I leaned back in my chair away from her.