All names, characters and locations are fictitious, changed to allow for anonymity.
*
Being thirty and already developing a beer gut, I began working out at the local gym. And since I worked nights, the equipment was readily available, which was cool. No crowds.
After a month or so, I got to know some of the regulars, mostly retired guys, some into their eighties, God bless them! Mostly it was just to say hi, but a few became as regular as clockwork, so I sort of bonded with a guy named Abe. He was hunched over from Arthritis and age, but still happy-go-lucky at 75. He reminded me of an old gent I knew growing up, always with a smile and a joke.
Then one day, Abe didn't show. The second day I became concerned and asked his friend Benny. Abe had suffered a stroke. He'd let me know the visiting hours at the hospital.
Benny's eyes were red the third day when I approached and I feared the worst. Sure enough, Abie had passed away. I asked about the wake but Benny explained that the Jewish faith requires immediate burial and then they sit Shiva, a time when family and friends come to the house to give condolences. I arranged to accompany Benny.
The huge house was packed, people sat in groups, some solemnly, and others like one of the many Irish Wakes I had experienced. Benny led the way to meet the widow, who Abe referred to as "My Ruthy," and I was shocked when I met her. Sitting erect in her chair, she was a striking woman, Red hair, green eyes, chiseled cheek and chin, her makeup exact, not a tear stain to be found. I thought he must be mistake: This woman was 20 years younger than Abe.
She stood as Benny and I came near. Her voice was strong and clear. "Oh, Ben, how good of you to come! It's been so long!" They spoke of Benny's deceased wife, about old times, then Ben said, "Esther, this it Jake, from the gym."
She beamed as she took my hand. "So, you're the young man Abie spoke of! He kept promising to bring you home to meet me. He so enjoyed your chats, said it made him feel young again!"
"Thank you, Ma'am, he was quite a guy. I'm very sorry for your loss."
"Please, call me Ruth, and yes, thank you. Well, my husband would say he hated these things. He didn't mourn someone who died, he celebrated their life!"
I smiled, "Sounds like something he'd say."
People poured in and we drifted away, getting a sandwich and drink before saying goodbye. Esther said, "Thank you so much for coming. I wish we had more time to talk. But, obligations." She looked around the crowded house.
"Maybe another time," I replied, not knowing what to say. She smiled and I saw a tear begin to well up, and she squeezed my hand.
"You remind me of him, in his younger days." with that, she pulled me down and kissed me on the cheek, and whispered, "Maybe another time."
Weeks went by, and I thought often of Abe and Esther. I concluded from talking to Benny that although younger, Esther was still 66 years old and that Abe had convinced her to get cosmetic work done whenever she felt old. Face lift, tummy tuck, eye lift, new breasts (which Benny went on in detail to describe how Abe loved them.) Whatever her age, I felt strangely drawn to her, and found myself somewhat aroused at her memory.
Did I mention I'm a bartender? In a Steak House, and I don't mean Outback. It's fairly high-end, mostly adults, many of the more mature variety. No children's menu, so very few whining rug rats, which reflects the austere atmosphere.
Dressed in white shirt and red tie, I pour Cosmos and Dirty Martinis for all the upper crust, and they complain and I smile as I simply pour it into a different glass, and, Viola! a perfect drink! it's like a game.
Dinner clears out early, and usually by midnight, I'm closing. One Sunday, late, I had just bid farewell to my last customer, when the door opened, and a man in a black suit stuck his head in. "Sorry, Sir, closing up," I called.
He smiled and stepped in, and behind him was Esther, dressed in a black pants-suit that reeked of money, with three inch heels making her about five foot six, gold everywhere, fingers, neck, ears, wrists, and that bright red hair and green eyes. She moved to the bar as her driver stayed at the door, and she took my hand.
"I know this is sudden, but they had a memorial for Abe at the Country Club tonight and provided me with a limo for the night. It ended early and I thought, 'Who do I know who is still awake at this hour?' And I remembered Abe promised to take me here some day. I hope you don't mind?"
I realized my jaw hurt from smiling. "No, not at all! I was getting ready to close..."
"Even better! George here is at my disposal for the entire weekend, right George?" He smiled and nodded. "Finish up, and we'll take a ride, if you don't have plans..."
"None that I can think of."
In fifteen minutes, I climbed into the back, where Ruth sat with two drinks, the dim lights giving her a sexy glow. "I hope you like Scotch. Abie had a thing for Single Malts."
"That's always been my favorite, too. Boy, you pour a healthy drink!" Clinking my glass to hers, our eyes measuring each other as we sipped. Hmm, which brand is this?"
"Macallan's. Abe called it, Mother's Milk!"
"Smooth."
Through the glass, George asked, "Where to, Ma'am?"
