It was half past ten and there I sat at my window blankly staring into the darkness of night thinking with my scotch cozy inside my belly, "Bloody hell. She did it."
I immediately sprung to my feet and briskly paced around my apartment as the silky sounds of Duke Ellington hummed in the background. Suddenly, I found myself sliding on my trainers and rolling up my sleeves to scurry out the door. "Damn! Where was this woman?"
Instinctually, I hurried over towards the gazebo where we had smoked our cigarettes with their clouds of confusion. I looked a fool hurtling through the streets at this hour in this bum of a town with the crazies in my eyes from the alcohol demons playing hopscotch in my gut. Obstacles were in every nook and cranny with mailboxes, shitty pavements, screeching civilians, and such. All was ignored as my imagination latched onto an image of her.
She wasn’t there. I circled the gazebo in disbelief and finally sat down on the step with the smell of our cigarettes still lingering. Now there are few times a man defeats his own masculinity with the bloody tears of heartbreak. In that moment I wish I could have cried. Instead I found myself booking it to the metro station. I got there and hopped the gate as a policeman chased me down to engage in the most exciting event of the year; a lawyer breaking the law. How sad. Then I saw her sitting there with a Jane Austen in her lap and her feet kicked up on a suitcase. She was doing it.
Our eyes met and I could tell it was truly happening as her expression became stale and her chest collapsed back into her fictional world of Mr.Darcy and Elizabeth. I then felt a tight grip around my shoulder, “Mr.Bagwell, what is happening this evening? Is everything okay?”
“Oh yes officer quite right you see. I just have some business to attend to briefly and the gate was impeding you see.”
“Why certainly Collin, I do understand but the rules are the rules and you of all people should know that, Bagwell,” he replied with another squeeze. At this moment my alcohol demons were pounding at a bloody rave in my stomach. “Let’s go home Bagwell. Nothing is so urgent in this town it can’t wait for the sun to wake up. Come on now. I’ll forget this ever happened if you let me take you home. You look like you could use the rest.”
She looked up again but this time it was different. She looked with longing. I heard the train approaching and felt myself begin to stumble backwards. Bloody hell.
It was midnight when I got home and stared out of the window again. The inky sky had started crying. I kicked off my trainers, and plunged into my bed. “I shouldn’t have done it,” I whispered to myself with scotch still hovering in every word.
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