Gabriel

She took the seat next to him. She was the most stunning woman in the bar.

Taller than Gabriel, she was slightly older than him too. Her black hair was softer than air and cascaded down to her lower back, spilling over the stool. All her movement seemed calculated to be efficient.

She spent a considerable amount of time examining the menu. She looked down and sighed.

Gabriel couldn’t help but watch her. She noticed that and smiled. Her calm eyes struck him.

He nodded politely and focused on the beer in front of him. The glass was cold in his hand. He took a sip. She had ordered a screwdriver. Gabriel tried to find something to say, anything that wouldn’t sound too cheesy.

“Do you prefer flathead or Phillips?” he joked, uncertain.

“What?” she asked, not even sure he was talking to her.

Gabriel wished he could turn into a bird and fly far, far away. She tried to catch his sight; he tried to avoid the humiliation.

“Sorry, that was a stupid pun,” he said, trying to end the awkward attempt at conversation.

She frowned, more confused than annoyed.

The bartender finished her cocktail and slid it in front of her. She stirred it twice with the striped metal straw, and a small smile appeared on her face.

“Not the worst I’ve heard,” she finally answered. “After all, screwdrivers do make good icebreakers,” she added, turning toward him. She was out of Gabriel’s league, but he didn’t care for that kind of thing. She was interesting and that alone was a good sign. At worst, they’d have a friendly conversation.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Sort of,” she sighed.

“Work?”

“Partially.”

“What do you do?” Gabriel enquired. He was genuinely curious and on top of that it would be a good way of turning the conversation on something that was not the source of her gloom. He took a long sip of his beer. He wasn’t sure which one he had chosen, but it was refreshing.

“I’m a speech therapist for children,” she explained, joining a hand gesture to emphasise her response.

“We have the same patients. I’m a math teacher at St Dymphna middle school.”

The bartender looked at them, puzzled, as if they were two aliens. Maybe, like Gabriel, he was trying to figure out why she hadn’t ducked out of the discussion yet. But she stayed, talking to him, charming in her suit. He relaxed in his big jacket. In a way, she was reassuring. Gabriel was enjoying the small talk.

“Have those monsters been difficult with you today? I know they can be exhausting someday. “

“No more than usual. Most of them are quite determined to improve.”

“I wish mine were like that,” he admitted. “The majority are cleverer than they think. Nevertheless, it’s hard to get to them when they don’t want to.”

“It’s difficult to find something that works for all of them,” she correctly stated.

She seemed to enjoy the discussion. She was. But at the same time, she was surprised. She was genuinely trying to get to him.

“What’s your secret technique when it happened to you?” Gabriel interrogated, curious and amused by the fact she seemed to want to talk about this in particular.

“I use music. I made them sing,” she explained with the shiny eyes of pride.

She was radiant. She said that with such an amount of certainty that it was easy to understand it was important for her.

“That’s impressive. I wish I could use something like that with my class. I’m a math teacher.”

Gabriel rotated his glass, thinking about all the papers he still had to grade at home.

“Is it efficient?” he asked.

“Quite yes, I even wrote a paper about it.”

“Impressive, a proper scholar here. And felicitations, I thought about going more theoretical but teaching was calling me back. Hard to fight your nature,” he let go, with his mind.

“Is it true?” she asked, as surprised as if he was some kind of celebrity.

“Yes, for a few months during my second year of teaching. But that was a long time ago. Not really interesting.”

“I’m not so sure,” she gently commented.

She was lost in his explanation, but she was wrong. There wasn’t much more to tell. Nevertheless she was expecting him to have more. She was disappointed when she understood he couldn’t tell more, because there wasn’t more.

“I assure you it is. But for you singing patients, are all of them talented?”

She waited a second to think. She took her eyes off him to sip her cocktail for the first time.

“No, not at all. But that’s not really important. They try and that enables me to play guitar for them.”

“You play music on top of that. Lady, leave some talents for the rest of us!” he teased her.

“Yes. That’s relaxing. It helps me escape,” she admitted, sliding back into a visible melancholy.

“What genre do you prefer?” Gabriel tried to dynamise the conversation.

It seemed to work as she turned back to him again, nearly smiling.

“Pop music, folk, and I have a guilty pleasure for country music.”

“I love country music!” Gabriel yelled louder than he probably should have.

Nevertheless, he carelessly jumped from his stool. He badly hummed something that resembled country music and improvised some moves on it. She clapped to accompany him. A big smile even appeared on her face. Some other customer started looking at them, or more exactly at him. No need to say he was the attraction of this formerly calm pub. But the bartender didn’t criticise him. After his gig, Gabriel climbed back on his stool, not without amused applause. It was not a good gig, closer to a drunk dance. But he made his point.

“I used to be better, the drinks got to me more than I thought,” he admitted. “My father led our local country club, sadly it’s in my blood.”

“Don’t say sadly, that was joyful,” she corrected him, politely or maybe sincerely. He wasn’t sure.

“I hoped to teach that to my child one day. Do you have some monster of your own?” he asked, not totally innocently.

And the question hit her, but not in a good way. She slightly closed again.

“No,” she just said.

“It was indiscreet. Sorry.”

They went back to silence, as did the rest of the pub. He played his fingers on the sticky bar. She did the same. Then she caressed her annular, naked but marked by time.

“You were married?” he curiously asked, feeling it was maybe a trail to explore.

“We were. But I had to divorce him to protect our finances. I even sold my alliance to pay the medical bills, but in the end … in the end even with the money is there if it’s too late, it’s too late,” she delivered with a melancholic smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

She looked directly at him, and touched his hand. For the first time tonight, he truly felt like he reached her. And in some ways, the opposite too.

“I just realised I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Gabriel, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Linda,” she simply said, still holding his hand.

Time stopped. Einstein was right, time is indeed relative. All day many people meet each other, and many for the first time. But on singular occasions people connected.

“Your ex-husband, is he?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.

“It’s complicated. He is still there but… he is often absent. “

“You still live together?”

“Yes”

Gabriel started to understand that he had connected with her—though not in the way he had originally thought. Nonetheless, he had connected. And he liked it, liked it as it was. Sometimes in life you didn’t need more. Just someone to listen to you, or to talk. He could be that guy.

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes”

“So, everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know. That’s what people say,” she added with a hint of frustration.

“And I’m sure it’s true,” Gabriel insisted.

“I hope.”

They stayed there. She still hadn’t let his hand go.

The air was humid, the place smelled like beer, but life was good. Simple. Social.

They should have talked a lot because Gabriel didn’t see the time pass. Time wasn’t frozen anymore; it had flown.

She was captivating, though tinged with the quiet sadness people sometimes carry.

He hoped it was not too much, and hoped he could cheer her up by talking.

But life continued. It was a bar, it was a night, and it was time to go back.

“It starts getting late,” he admitted, “I will have to go.”

“Indeed,” she responded while turning away to hide a tear.

“Can I get your number and your name?”

Her posture shifted. Suddenly, she was in charge. She had to turn back to a position of control.

Linda had this time, and she was glad it was there even if it ended. Maybe there will be another, one day. But now, she had to lead, again.  

“I think you got it already, Gabriel,” she gently explained,” but you’re right, we should head back home.”

She paid and thanked the bartender. Then she reached out for Gabriel’s hand.

He wasn’t confused, he was lost.

But the beginning of the conversation has already turned to smoke.

She was the most beautiful woman in the bar and she had asked him to follow her. He stood up and followed, his jacket too big for him. After all, she had a reassuring face with a half-happy half-down smile. If only he could find a good way to break the ice.