“Because it’s easy to fall in love,” he tells her.
“That’s because you’re so open to it,” she responds.
He nods, uncomfortably.
“But,” she continues, “whoever you end up with is going to be very lucky. You’re so honest about everything. You have so much to offer.”
“Thank you,” he says. “I like to think that’s true.”
“And I feel the same way about myself,” she says. “I can be a very devoted person.”
“I know that,” he tells her.
There is some tension. He turns and finds a small amount of relief from his bottle of Budweiser. There is a heavy pause.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get home later,” she suddenly says.
He begins to worry that she’ll want to go home with him. They’ve written this story before. He knows how it feels and he wants no part of it. “The L is not far from here,” he replies, “or you could take a cab.”
She digs into her silver purse and opens her little subway map. She takes a good look. He points it out to her: “There.”
“So tell me about your lady friend,” she says.
He gives quick, one-word descriptions about her lips, her eyes, and her hair – in that very order.
“Well,” she laughs strangely, “she sounds beautiful.”
“She is.”
Another thought blooms gently, and he looks back to check if she – his lady friend – is coming through the door. She isn’t.
As he turns, someone else gets up from the bar and feeds more money into the glowing jukebox. A roar emerges. I think it was an old Metallica song. I can’t remember.
“That’s because you’re so open to it,” she responds.
He nods, uncomfortably.
“But,” she continues, “whoever you end up with is going to be very lucky. You’re so honest about everything. You have so much to offer.”
“Thank you,” he says. “I like to think that’s true.”
“And I feel the same way about myself,” she says. “I can be a very devoted person.”
“I know that,” he tells her.
There is some tension. He turns and finds a small amount of relief from his bottle of Budweiser. There is a heavy pause.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get home later,” she suddenly says.
He begins to worry that she’ll want to go home with him. They’ve written this story before. He knows how it feels and he wants no part of it. “The L is not far from here,” he replies, “or you could take a cab.”
She digs into her silver purse and opens her little subway map. She takes a good look. He points it out to her: “There.”
“So tell me about your lady friend,” she says.
He gives quick, one-word descriptions about her lips, her eyes, and her hair – in that very order.
“Well,” she laughs strangely, “she sounds beautiful.”
“She is.”
Another thought blooms gently, and he looks back to check if she – his lady friend – is coming through the door. She isn’t.
As he turns, someone else gets up from the bar and feeds more money into the glowing jukebox. A roar emerges. I think it was an old Metallica song. I can’t remember.
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