The drumming of his fingers across the stone plate of the bar matched the seconds slowly ticking themselves off the clock. It had been one of the slowest days imaginable, not that that wasn't to be expected. The business always slowed down to a shear halt when the summer brought all the warm sunlight, and with it drawing the people of this small Iowa town out in to its warm glory for a wide variety of activities. That, of course, did not include sitting in a burger joint allowing the cool recipes of summertime bliss he could concoct to quench their ever ripening thirst.
With no people came plenty of time for thinking, and currently that was the last thing he should be doing. The reason for that is for the last year all that had consumed his mind was her. The love of his life that had walked away one July night had been on his mind at least once an hour for the last year. It was her that consumed his dreams; it was her that still had his heart. Oh sure there had been other girls to date over the last year, but none could measure up. She was everything to him, and that emptiness now sat in the bottom of his soul like the cavern of the dead once spoke of by the outlaws of the Badlands.
Those thoughts had rained their destructive force down on him. He had allowed them to consume him yet again, and yet once more had yielded to the siren call of his addiction. He turned his arms over looking at the now permanent reminder of what the effects of a night of drinking the best that Uncle Putin can offer, and the silent dance of the cold bite of steel against flesh. The scars, while small, were very evident and counted at least twenty more to the already staggering total.
The irony in all of this is how quickly ones' mind can drift from the sadness of the present to the hope of the future. He had played this moment out a hundred times in his mind, and in every instance it ended the same way. He felt the tide beginning to rise in him once again as he began to conjure up the images that would elicit behaviors in his body that would be evident by the normal on looker. Yet, he didn't care. In this moment of boredom, and wishing, he succumbed to the power of his mind as he dreamed up the impossible scenario.
He would be standing at the bar, just getting ready to walk out from behind its shallow cavern, to attend to some tables errand when he would be hit by a warm dash of air caused to stir due to the opening of the heavy glass front door. He would only half way look in that direction, a force of occupational habit, but something would trigger a double take. A form would walk into the establishment, and greet the host with a polite yet urgent smile. As she would be talking with the young host her eyes would begin to seek out their intended target until they would meet his. In that very instant her walls would come crashing down, knowing she had completed her mission in the searching of him. Relief and excitement would wash over her as she would move deliberately towards him only longing to touch him again. Her sole purpose in that moment would be to feel his beard against her cheek; his arms wrapped lovingly around her, and,with hope, his lips upon hers.
The world would appear differently from his end. He would see her, and in a split second two things would happen. One- his heart would melt as he wondered if he were dreaming the fact that she was indeed in front of him. Could it be so? Could this be happening? His heart would question every second of this moment until he would touch her and realize that this was no dream.
The second part of his heart in this moment would not allow this to take place. For as quickly as the heart would melt, the ice from the brain would freeze all emotions shut. Immediately the remembrance of that year long suffering would shoot to the forefront and shut down everything else. He would grow cold, and know not what to do.
Her touch would cause a conundrum. He would long to be touched by her, but would he be willing to instantly forgive all the pain and abandonment the last year had offered. The feeling of being totally alone wouldn't go so easily. He would see her ocean blue eyes, and remember swimming in them. The look of them when he first confessed his love for her was still one of his favorite memories. The look in them when she had ripped his heart out was one of his worst.
Words would not find themselves easily on her tongue. She had plenty of time during her drive to write, and re-write speech after speech practicing them on the radio and any other ghosts that might have been traveling with her. Suddenly all of those words were gone. The moment had presented itself to her, and the enormity of it was dwarfing her courage. She knew before she could even take one step towards him that this was going to be a fight. Not so much of a fight between them in anger or public display, but of wills and of heart. She knew she had crushed him, but what he didn't know was that she had thought of him as much as he had of her. The fight was going to be to re-convince him of this fact. To prove to him that she did in fact love him and that very fire was still lit in her soul.
And she had a weapon suited for just this task. Their connection had been so strong that they had practically been in each other's minds. She knew how he turned everything around so that he would wear the blame, even if it was not his to wear. He knew she was as scarred on the inside as he was on the outside. Many bad experiences had led to her keeping her distance and not willing him to get close to her.
"Hi" she would begin nervously. As the word hung there in the open space between them the doubt already grew in her mind. Had this been a mistake? Only time would tell.
"Hey" he replies. No emotion in his one syllable. Just three letters nothing more.
"I'm not really sure what to say here" she confesses." How have you been?" Her eyes flickered as the regret of that question instantly filled her mind.
He could have made things really hard on her there, but he knew this couldn't be easy for her, so why make it worse? He did after all still love her. That didn't mean that this moment wasn't increasingly becoming more awkward.
"So, what brings you here?" the lack of enthusiasm could have been mistaken for coldness, but really he was trying to bury his emotions deep.