From Ghosting To New Beginnings

Nearing October’s end, I thought I’d meet my end before the year’s end. I sat on a stool in a crowded dive bar. I rolled the sleeves on my plaid Polo shirt, exposing my shaded tattoos and a silver watch. Willow Creek was a dimly lit den of faded glory, its cherry maple walls adorned with a tapestry of chipped paint and faded photographs of long-forgotten rock stars.

People talked at tables and the bar through loose lips. The stereo played Ashanti, pushing Always On Time through the large speakers. I drummed my fingers along the table’s edge to the beat.

Then, I sipped a chilled Rolling Rock and set the bottle on the smooth mahogany table coaster. Bartenders moved to serve tables, beer, and hot wings.

I finished a beer and waved the bartender over for another one.

I noticed her long, red fingernails as she twisted the tab on the long neck brew, and condensation lifted. “Enjoy,” she said, tucking her long, dark bangs behind her ear.

Her smile left me no choice but to tip. But I could use a tip about women and why they ghosted me after a one-night stand. I couldn’t stand another woman with an intention that fell short of the promise I made to myself to never fall for a mess that I’d have to clean up.

I dipped my gaze to my watch. “Sandra wasn’t here,” I said.

“Stood up?” the bartender said, cleaning mugs with a white cloth.

“Did I say that out loud?” I gave a nervous laugh, reached my hand to the back of my neck, and moved my nails around.

She leaned in. “Happens more than you might think,” she said. “I’m Stacy.” She offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “At least I can tell my friends I got a woman’s name.”

She gave me an engaging glance and smiled, not a superficial smile, but a genuine grin.

I embraced her soft touch. “I’m Nikko.”

“Nice name for a,” she scanned my hand for a wedding band, “cute guy.”

“You’re not bad either.”

Stacy lifted and lowered her hands onto the bar. “Just not bad?” She stuck out her lower lip and batted her long, dark lashes. “You can do better than that.”

I laughed. “Gorgeous,” I said, “you’re a gorgeous woman.”

“I don’t hear that often,” she said, as though I believed it.

“Right…” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Well, it means more coming from a sober man.”

“I get it all the time from drunk people, but that doesn’t count.” She wiped another glass and set it behind the counter. “This is my last night here,” she said. “I finished college last month and finally got a good job.”

“Good for you,” I said, nodding in sincerity. “You should be proud of yourself.” My voice strained from talking over the music and other conversations.

“Thanks,” she said.

I unlocked my phone. “Sandra’s not coming,” I said of her message.

“I’m free,” she said, leaning her head on her palm, elbow propped on the bar. “Why don’t you come hang out with me for a while?”

“We don’t know each other,” I said.

“Suit yourself,” Stacy said, removing her apron. Her slim jeans hugged her thighs.

I swallowed hard. “How far away do you live?”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, biting her bottom lip as though she needed a one-night stand.

I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew why I let her string me along.

Stacy grabbed her navy purse, and I followed her home.

I drove my black, lifted truck with smoked mirrors and followed her Jeep through the bustling city. The stereo played Taylor Acorn, spilling First Date through the speakers. People walked their dogs, and couples moved across sidewalks with coffees. We stopped at stoplights and pumped our brakes at stop signs. We approached a gated community with trimmed lawns and gold and red leaves from skeletal birch trees filled in black trash bags by green garbage cans.

Stacy lowered her window and entered a card like you would at an ATM. The beige gates opened, and I followed her through a curve in a quaint neighborhood. Homes had candles in grimacing jack-o’-lanterns. We approached a large brown house with a three-car garage.

Stacy entered her driveway.

I parked beside her. Her parents have money, I thought.

She exited and waved me inside.

I batted around the idea of her being a killer. Well, I die tonight, I’ll have died happy, I thought.

I got out and followed her.

Lights on either side of the path paved the way to her front door. Stacy’s figure weighed heavy on my heart in her tight jeans as we stepped the stairs to her front door. A porch light turned on, and she unlocked the door. She took a step back and motioned me inside. Stacy teal walls with a matching crimson loveseat and sofa. She had a beige sectional near the large TV hanging above the fireplace. She turned on the radio to soft pop. She pointed out family in framed pictures on her walls. She dimmed the living room lights. She kicked off her boots, and we sat to chat about each other instead of harping over our problems. We graduated from Eastern Washington University. I obtained a business degree five years ago. She attended my rival high school.

“God.” Stacy covered her face. “I can’t wait to start my new job Monday.”

“What kind of job is it?” I said.

“Dad knows someone who helped me get the job. I’m not even sure of the name, just that it’s job with good pay.”

We’re supposed to be getting a new employee on Monday, I thought. But there’s no way it could be Stacy.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Stacy shook off her jeans, wearing a long, dark Hurley T-shirt that fell below her thighs.

I shrugged. “Sure.” I knew this lousy idea would stick with me.

She went into the kitchen to grab two glasses and returned with a bottle of white wine. “I need someone to celebrate with and all my friends are married or have moved away.” She used a screw to uncork the bottle.

I offered my glass, and she filled it.

She filled her glass and sat down.

“Are you in a relationship?”

“Me?” She moved strands of her hair behind her ear. “Men use and leave me.”

“I feel your pain.” I took a long sip of wine. “It’s like, why me? You know what I mean?” I said as the wine loosened my lips more than the beer did.

“I pray every night for God to bring me someone,” she said, “someone who loves me for me.” She put her hand to her chest.

“If God brought you into my life…” I paused. “Maybe I should leave.”

“Why?” Stacy wrinkled a brow and finished her wine.

“This feels too right,” I said.

Twisted by Keith Sweat played, and it took me back to high school. Pure love came quickly back then. Stacy sat with her silky pale legs hanging over the edge of the couch.

“You’re always free to leave,” she said.

“I don’t want to,” I said.

“Then shut up and come here.”

“Now might not be a good—”

“So you have a bulge in your pants,” Stacy said. “I expected, in fact, I wanted, it.”

Warmth flushed through my face. I stood and sat beside her. Stacy’s deep green, oval eyes entangled me in a forest of dopamine.

Stacy leaned in, and I did too. I reached and moved my fingers through her hair.

I pressed my lips to hers. Shivers scaled my spine, and my heart fluttered like I’d reached my final destination.

Stacy sighed and kissed me back.

We kissed with our tongues through soft moans.

Stacy picked up a device, pointed it at the fireplace, and pressed a button. Flames danced through shadows.

We continued to kiss and cuddle until rays lingered between the beige blinds, spreading across the room. I lifted my head. Stacy was still asleep. I beamed, wrote my phone number on a sheet of paper, and left it on the oak coffee table.

I was going to leave, but I decided to make her breakfast and coffee instead. I didn’t cook, but I put my spirit into this meal. I heard Stacy yawn and presumably stretching.

“Breakfast?” Stacy entered the kitchen and sat on the marble island. “This is new,” she said.

“I hope it’s okay,” I said, serving her the pumpkin spice coffee.

She sipped it and flashed an okay sign. “Well done.”

I put a plate together and handed it to her.

“Eggs, sausage, and hash browns,” Stacy said, taking the food.

I opened a drawer and handed her a fork.

“Excellent,” she said.

I looked at my watch. “I better get home,” I said. “I’m expecting something from Amazon.”

“Can I see you Monday?” Stacy said.

“After work,” I said, “sure.”

“I’ll see you Monday,” she said.

I kissed her cheek and drove the winding roads home, listening to Magnolia Park. Who was this woman? I didn’t know, but I loved our time together. If she blows me off on Monday, I’ll know it wasn’t meant to be. I pulled into my long gravel driveway. I exited the trunk and moved to the tall pine gate. I closed it behind me. I unlocked the door and put the football game on. I paced over the cherry maple floor and raked my fingers through my hair. I didn’t have her number, but I gave her mine. I chased ideas until my mind tired. I sat on the couch and fell asleep.

On Sunday, Stacy sent me a blushing emoji.

I set one back. It meant more than the words I’d wanted to hear.

On Monday, I showered and dressed. I drank warm coffee in a mug and ate a bagel. I looked at my watch and turned off the TV. I adjusted my dark tie in the bathroom mirror. I moved gel through my thick, dark hair and headed for the door. I slid into my truck and headed to work.

I pulled into Raymond’s Firm. I got my briefcase and moved across the parking lot. Bare maple tree branches move with a light breeze.

I entered the lobby. My boss called me to his office.

“This is your new partner.” He motioned.

My eyes bulged.

Stacy winked.

“Do you too know each other?”

“Me?” I patted my chest.

“Never met him,” Stacy said.

“Raymond is my father,” she said.

His phone rings. “I got to take this call,” he said. “Show her what to do.”

“I will.”

“Can you handle that, Stacy?” her dad said.

“I will, and soon, I’ll say I do.”

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040