“Remind me again why we didn’t take a cab?” Natalie asked without diverting her eyes from the snow-covered sidewalk.
“We’re almost there, relax,” I said. “Five more minutes.” We trudged through the fresh blanket of white snow, proceeding cautiously with each step, weary of hidden cracks in the pavement and patches of ice. Arm in arm we walked past empty store-fronts with “for rent” signs in the windows. It was quiet, not one car passed.
As we walked into the bar a curvy girl with thick brown hair greeted us with her rendition of Alanis Morisette’s “Ironic.” I twisted my once voluminous curls, curls that had taken me an hour and three volume boosting products to create, and rang the water out. I dug an elastic out of my clutch and piled my hair into a messy bun, ready to have a drink.
“There is nobody here,” Natalie complained, looking around the sparsely populated bar. Three college girls giggled in the corner, making fun of the lonely man at the table next to them. He was thin, dressed in a striped white collared shirt, red suspenders, and a long, black trench coat. He wore a vintage hat on his head, adorned with a green feather, shiny pointed toed shoes and a cane. He looked like Oliver Twist, out of place in the casual pub. “It’s the same old people all the time. I mean, I just broke up with Brad; I want to have some fun! Where are all the hot guys?”
“Whatever! Forget about meeting a guy. Just have some fun, be a little selfish for once! Wouldn’t it be so nice to only think about you? You can do what you want, when you want to without having to think about how it affects someone else. I’m seriously jealous of you.”
Natalie looked at me, her hazel eyes wide with confusion and fear. “That’s not what I want,” she said, her soft voice trembling with loss.
“I know doll. I know,” I said, and I realized I needed to do something fast to get Natalie away from the dark place she was rapidly going towards, a place combined with one more martini would end up in endless tears, desperate text messages, phone calls, and emails. “Let’s sing!”
“No, no, no!!!” she begged. “Sam. NO!” I got up and she grabbed my arm, pleading “Have you heard me sing? Have you heard yourself sing???”
I waltzed over to the woman running karaoke to put our names down for a song when the heavy, wooden door of the bar swung open. He sauntered in wearing dirty washed denim jeans and a black ski jacket. His blonde hair was covered in melting snowflakes and the water dripped down his face. I turned to the woman who was ready with her pen and said, “Natalie and Sam. We’re gonna sing “Since You’ve Been Gone.” The strange, handsome man was gone and I turned around to find Natalie. My eyes scanned the bar and I caught a glimpse of her porcelain skin glowing as she introduced herself to the unidentified gentleman. Her eyes sparkled and she lightly touched his arm, laughing. “Nevermind. I don’t think we’re going to sing after all,” I said to the woman and walked outside to smoke a cigarette.
Fiction, fact, faction? It feels like sort of true, sort of enhanced, sort of real, sort of fantasy, a bit to good to be true.
ReplyDeleteHelp me sort this part out and maybe then I can comment on the writing more extensively.
Mostly fiction, sort of an enhanced typical night out....although the Oliver Twist character is true; I have in fact seen this man before.
ReplyDeleteSo, why do you think I tagged it so immediately as fiction? That's a question about the writing, not about me.
ReplyDeleteRe-reading it, it reminds me of something out of a sitcom. Natalie's distress over being single and meeting a gorgeous stranger five minutes later is improbable, too perfect. The dialogue is okay, in my opinion, but the scene as a whole fits into a box a little too nicely. Am I right?
ReplyDeleteI feel that good fiction gives the reader a sense that it could be real. And good non-fiction reads like fiction. This is neither. Do you want me to re-work it?