letta's lament

 
Letta's Lament 

I sat nursing a broken heart, at Joe’s bar on 45th Street, my body swaying in time to the slow, mournful melody that played throughout the room.  It was as if the music knew me.  Knew what I was feeling. It the first time that I had climbed up on the barstool and tried to drink away my sorrow, and I knew that it certainly would not be the last.I seemed to be a creature of habit because I had sat at the very same bar, after the breakup of my relationship with someone whom I had planned to marry someday, on numerous occasions.  Some people would say that I’m a glutton for punishment, and my good friend, Annie, says that one day, I’m going to finally learn.  But as I stare at my reflection in the mirror that runs the length of the wall behind the bar, I see a woman who is as broken as her heart.  I turn my glass up, draining it of the last bit of whiskey, dabbing at the corners of my mouth with a paper napkin.  I pushed the glass away from me, indicating that I was done, and just as I was about to call out to the young bartender for another, someone else beat me to it. 

Standing next to me was a large brother clad in a quarter length, black leather jacket, wearing a perfectly shaped mustache and goatee.  He signaled the bartender with one hand and picked up my empty glass with the other.  My first thought was how nineteen-seventyish, he looked, and my next thought was that this guy must be drunk.  And I wanted no part of it. 

The bartender, after giving someone on the other end of the bar, their drink, came over, and took my glass from stranger guy’s hand. “Are you together?”  He asked as he looked from me to stranger guy. He knew that I had come in alone and was obviously being protective. 

“Absolutely not.”  I replied with a smirk.  “But I will have another Jack.” 

“Certainly.”  He smiled as he turned to replenish my drink. 

“So, you’re a JD drinker, too.”  Stranger Guy said, as he turned to me. 

I tried to keep my focus on the bartender, because I really had no desire to interact with this guy.  Obviously, he thought that he could just waltz in here and pick me up like I was some easy broad who opened herself up to any Tom-Dick-and-Harry, who gave her an ounce of attention.  Did I look that easy? Luckily, before he could say anything else, the bartender headed my way with my drink in hand, placed down in front of me, but he didn’t walk immediately walk away. He looked in my eyes, then at Stranger Guy, and then back at me.Again, being protective.  

“All’s good.” I said with a smile, and he seemed to relax. But before he could walk away, Stranger Guy spoke up again. 

“I’ll have one of those too. On the rocks.”  He spoke. 

I roll my eyes, because apparently, he planned to hang around for a while, when all I wanted to do was, have my drink, and drown my sorrows in peace. 

“Certainly.”  The bartender glanced at me apologetically and went off to make the drink.  I understood.  The man had a job to do. 

“So, you’re a whiskey girl.”  He said as he took the seat next to me, getting comfortable.  It annoyed me a little, that he was surprised that a woman would like a little whiskey.  I guess he thought that I would be drinking one of those sweet, colorful vodka drinks.  But what annoyed me more, was that he called me a girl. My Mama’s favorite saying was always “Girls grow big in your part of the country, I guess.” 

“Woman.”  I corrected him.” 

“Huh?” 

The bartender reappeared with his drink and before he could walk away to tend to other patrons, Stranger Guy threw down some bills.  “For both drinks.”He said, then he turned his attention back onto me. 

“I’m a grown ass woman.”  I said as I lifted the glass to my lips, looked him in the eye, and took a sip. 

“Oh, okay.”  He said, taking a sip of his own, after he lifted the glass towards me, as if in a toast to something.  “I stand corrected.” 

“Do you always buy drinks for women you don’t know?”  I asked him as he placed his glass back down on the bar.  It was then that I caught sight of a single stud in his left earlobe.  Do guys still do that? I wondered.  

“Not always.”  He spoke. I almost thought that he was answering my nonverbal question about the stud in his ear.  That would have really creeped me out.  He was actually responding to my first question.  “But you looked like you could use the company.” 

“Oh Really?”  I said, with obvious indignity. “Maybe my man is in the men’s room, and he can keep me company when he comes back.  Have you thought about that?” 

“Well, if he is," He took another sip of his drink, and let it settle.  “Maybe you should send someone in there to check on him, because you’ve been sitting here alone for quite some time.” 

Now, he really was creeping me out, so I asked, “Have you been watching me?”  I had imagined him sitting in a booth, on the other side of the room, in the dark.  Watching.  Staring.  “Exactly, what is your agenda?”  I asked, picking up my drink, contemplating if I should throw it in his face, but that would be rude.  So, I just took a sip and placed the glass back down on the bar. 

 “He shrugged and smiled softly. “I caught your reflection in the mirror, and you looked like you had something on your shoulders.  I just thought you could use a friend.” 

Good observation. I thought.  I then raised my glass to him, toasting to his observation skills, and took a big sip. 

He raised his glass in kind and held out his hand.  “I’m Jackson.”  

I hesitated to follow protocol, because I did not want to encourage him, but I thought it to be rude if I didn’t.  I shook his hand, and contemplating for a second if I should tell him my name.  “Letta.”  I hoped that I would not regret it. 

I could tell that Jackson felt more at ease, as he began to rattle off the names of a couple of night clubs in the area. I had only frequented one, when Bishop was around. 

“Sounds like you a lot” I replied. 

“A few times a year. Birthdays, Valentines.” 

“Special occasions.”  I said, understanding the gist. 

“Something like that. What about you?”  He took a swig.  “Where do you like to go for special occasions.  Or is this the place?”  He looked around for emphasis. 

I shrugged and looked around, but in an ‘are you kidding?’ kind of way.  “Definitely not here.”  I chuckled. “This place is more of a Dive. Not a place for special times.” Then I realized that I never had a place that I went to for any special occasion. I couldn’t remember the last time that Bishop had taken me anywhere special.  It was usually him walking through the door with a bottle of Moët, a grilled steak that he picked up through take-out, at some restaurant, some grocery story flowers and a box of chocolate candies.  If I was lucky, he threw in a little lace Teddy for me to wear that night.  If it was for Valentines Day, it would be red. And then he would leave after a couple of hours.  I think I still have a few of those Teddies in the back of the closet.  Jackson noticed my silence, and I saw a look come over his face.  It wasn’t a ‘damn girl, I feel for you,’ sort of look.  It was more of a Let me take advantage of this situation.  

  I wanted to be alone, but not completely. While my mind was hating everyone and everything since Bishop disappeared, I deeply wanted to be wanted.  I knew this because I've recently become deeply in tune with myself.  And as I sat there with this man who just randomly sat down and started a conversation with me, I was afraid.  Afraid of where this was going.  I knew if I let my guard down, and lost my focus, Jackson would be another “Bishop” in my life. 

I’ve always had a problem when it came to men. Any man who showed me the slightest bit of attention, validated me. I grew up with very few friends, and without boyfriends. No dates, and no Prom night for me. I felt ugly, unwanted, and undesirable. And that is a dangerous place for a woman to be. And it took Bishop showing me who he really was, to finally open my eyes. I craved the attention that he gave me, whenever he came around, and while I saw Bishop as my man, he saw me as just another Good Time. I still can't believe how naive I was.I became too clingy for him. Too needy. And I promised myself that I would never let that happen to me again. I would no longer let my emotions run wild and unchecked for another man who showed the slightest bit of attention to me, until they tell me and everyone else that serious about me and his one and only. While Jackson was fine as hell, and had a deep, sexy voice, he was, just some random man, trying to pick me up, and be available for me in-between the other women that he also had casual relationships with, then toss me to the side, when grew tired of me, or saw that I was getting too serious. 

“The night is still young.” He stated. He finished his drink and stood up and took my hand again. Was it time for him to go?  I needed that to be the case.  Whatever was going on here needed to end, and I needed to go home, and finish my brooding there.  But I was wrong.  

I glanced up at the clock that hung on the wall behind the bar. It was just about ten-thirty. There was still time for me to enjoy another drink at home, alone, before heading off to bed...alone. 

I was ready to grab my purse and head out, but Jackson had had other plans. 

“Let’s grab a booth.”  His deep baritone voice teased me. 

I looked confused. “A booth?”  I looked across the room at the booths on the other side of the bar, with little lighting. Uh uh. Nope.  This wasn’t where I wanted this to go. 

“Sure.  We can talk more privately there.”  He gave the bartender, who kept a watchful eye on Jackson, the side-eye. So, what he really wanted to do was get away from my protector.  

Okay, now he was definitely being shady. A lot shady. He was doing too much, and I wasn’t surprised.  It was indeed going where I had anticipated.  And I not going to fall back into my old ways.  So,I picked up my purse and held my hand out as I stood up.  He took my hand in his, and smiled, apparently, thinking that things were going his way. 

 Then I simply said, “It was nice meeting you, Jackson.  Enjoy the rest of your evening.”   

“Oh!”  He saidstartled. thought I was going to follow his lead.  Probably thought the night would end with either me letting him drool all over me in one of the booths, or getting me to go to his place, a motel, or even in his car, parked in somedark spot where we would have sex.  Nope! Wasn’t happening. 

Without saying another word, I turned, walked away, and went out the door. 

As the cool night air hit me hard, I felt good.  I was so proud of myself for keeping my focus, and feeling indignant, instead of all giddy inside because, oh my gosh! He likes me! Realizing that my mood had certainly changed from heartbroken, to indignant, I thought that maybe Jackson did me a favor that I seen coming.  He took my mind off Bishop, and he created an opportunity for me to be a stronger woman and prove to myself that I can be that stronger woman. 

I walked the few blocks home, feeling good. Even though I had been“played” by Bishop, who I had thought would be the love of my life, I vindicated by not letting another man treat me likesomething to keep in his closet and pull out and play with when he had nothing better to do. Maybe I could make this a trend.   

When I arrived home, I quickly showered and poured myself a glass of wine, wishing that I had a roommate to talk to.  I thought of giving Annie a call, but by then, it was close to eleven o'clock.  I didn't have the heart to wake her up, and made a mental note to call her the following day.  But I was still okay sitting there alone, curled up on the sofa in silence.  And after finishing up my glass of wine, I placed the glass in the dishwasher, climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep.  I was going to be okay.