Shutter(42)

The bar was loud and crowded. The small dance floor pulsed at the back of the long, thin room.

“Do you want one drink or two?” Philip asked. I couldn’t even answer. “Right. Two drinks.” He walked into the darkness of vibrating bodies and conversations.

Drinks in hand, Philip vented about his grumpy clients, and Shanice expounded upon the new guy she met at her last job— some actor who was following her around like a lost puppy. That was not out of the ordinary.

“Ugh. But he’s from Utah, so I might need to make some trips up there. But whatever it takes.” She tugged at her earlobe, stroking and pulling, something she did when she was serious. “Oh, and by the way, I’ll need to stay with one of you guys for a few days.” She sat back and lit a cigarette.

“You know we have lives, right?” Philip said.

“Rita doesn’t.” They stared at me.

“Yeah. Whatever. I’m never home anyway,” I said.

“Can I buy you a drink?” a voice called out across our table over the roar of music. No one replied.

“Rita?” Shanice directed her eyes toward the man standing by our table. “Can this gentleman buy you a drink?” I guess I just assumed the drink was for Shanice, or Philip for that matter. They were just as shocked as I was.

“Me?”

“Yes. If that’s okay.”

“Sure.” Why not. He seemed nice enough and wasn’t dressed like a lawyer. “Do you want to join us?” I presented the empty chair at the end of the table, which he took and sat down.

“My name is Chris.” He extended his hand out to each of us. “I just moved here about five weeks ago. For work and school.”

“And what is it that you do, Chris?” Philip smiled broadly when Shanice jabbed him in the rib.

“I’m a land surveyor. But I’m going to school right now for engineering. I’ve been working so much that this is the first time I’ve been able to get out and talk to someone.”

Chris was tall and had broad shoulders and semi-long hair that hung into his eyes. I kept catching him staring at me, then looking away when I looked back. It was kind of . . . interesting.

“Well, you’re in luck, Chris.” Philip stood and pulled Shanice’s hand. “Our friend Rita here needs some company because we’re gonna go for a dance, then go home. Right? Shanice?”

“We’ll see you later, Rita.” Shanice was already dancing as Philip dragged her out in the crowd. She pointed to Chris’s head and opened her mouth wide.

“So, what do you do?” Chris smiled at me.

“I’m a photographer.” I remembered my afternoon. “Well, I was.”

“You’re not a photographer anymore?” He sat down across the table.

“No. I’m still a photographer. I just found out I’m starting a three-month unplanned hiatus from my job this afternoon.”

“Did you want another drink?” He raised his hand for the waiter.

“Maybe one more.”

We sat at the table for two more hours until the lights blinked off and on. Philip and Shanice had long since giggled themselves out the door. Chris was smart and, for some reason, wanted to hear all about me. I kept it simple. He liked to read and go to the movies, two things I also loved to do but rarely found the time for anymore.

When we left the bar, we staggered out into the winter air, tugging at our scarves and laughing into the cold. He refused to let me walk home alone. We had about seven blocks to go before we came to my apartment building. The streets were glistening from the icy rain and snow that had fallen during our hours at the bar. Except for a few passing taxis, we were alone in downtown Albuquerque. A faint hint of police sirens cried out from miles away, and one lonely, wet dog skittered by, turning to look at us, then walking into the empty street.

Chris moved into the echo of my building with me and shuffled the five stories to my apartment. By the time we got to the door, we were both out of breath.

“Thank you for bringing me home.” I smiled.

“Anytime.” He raised his coat collar. “I have to leave for a little over a week for work tomorrow. Maybe we can see a movie when I come back?”

“I would like that.” I felt so awkward and small. I didn’t know what to say. As he moved in closer to me and pulled me to him, I could only feel a flood of heat as I kissed his lips. I think it surprised both of us. But once that had happened, I couldn’t help but bring him through the door with me.

We didn’t separate from each other for hours and didn’t say a word. I felt the shame in knowing that I had only met this man about five hours ago and had only his words to trust. For all I knew, he was a killer or a sociopath or a narcissist. But right now, I didn’t care. There was something about him that reminded me of home, of warmth and deep embraces. He kissed me, nuzzling his hot breath into my neck. He knew just where to touch me, and there was nothing I could do to fight it, so I didn’t. He flooded over me like a warm light. I hadn’t been this close to anyone in years, but I welcomed all of it, then wound myself around him and slept a deep and unwavering sleep to the sound of his breath. Shortly after, I began to dream.

In the dream, I sat on the swings in Nahkai Park, a sparse collection of aging playground equipment. Next to me was Erma. Our feet carved parallel tracks into the ground. Snow began to fall just as Erma disappeared into the abyss, leaving me rocking in the swing.