Right Now

“Sir. Sir?”

My head turned back from the barroom window where I’d been staring.

”I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The waitress gestured at the margarita with extra salt around the rim that sat, untouched, across from me.

I’d been sitting at the table in silence, alone, for nearly half an hour. It was nearly 11:00 PM on a Tuesday evening. We were the only two people in the bar.

“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to bother you. I asked who the extra drink was for.”

“Umm… it’s for my friend R.”

“Are you expecting her soon? I can bring a fresh drink if she’s on her way.”

“Oh. That’s very nice of you, but…”

I paused and cleared my throat.

“No. She won’t be coming. But… thank you.”

“Of course.”

She hesitated.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry… but is your friend OK?”

I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes, then took a deep breath.

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Why Can't This Be Love?

I was seated in the office of M, my therapist, one recent winter afternoon.

“Do you remember the two blog posts I brought in before Christmas?” I said.

“Of course.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if anyone would read them, but I actually got email from a few people telling me how they could relate to them.”

“That must have made you feel good,” M said.

“It did,” I said. “In fact, one of the people who wrote told me that she had something similar happen. Only she asked someone out, and then wasn't able to follow up.”

“How sad,” M said.

“That’s what I told her. But it also made me think about the one time someone actually asked me out.”

“Really?” said M. “I don’t think you ever mentioned this before.”

“I don’t really like to think about it much. But what’s odd is that ever since I have started thinking about it, I also keep thinking about another girl I knew years later.”

"Why is that?"

"I don't know. I just know they’re connected somehow."

“Well, why don’t you tell me about them?” asked M.

“I’ll start with H," I said.

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