Page 31 of The Bar Next Door
“I love you.” I fling the words out like a five-year-old who thinks they’re a magic spell that will make everything okay.
They don’t. They can’t.
“I know you do,” she answers after a pause. “I love you too.”
We say our goodbyes, and the silence of the condo is heavy enough to feel like all four walls are closing in on me now that I don’t have her voice in my ear.
My head is still far from silent. It never shuts off: the constant to-do list, the assessing and analysing, the comparing and measuring up. Did I do enough today? What could I do better? What am I doing next?
Review sales reports, back check builder, contact potential wine bar staff, go on date with Monroe.
There she is, tacked onto the end of a string of things to accomplish like she’s just one more milestone.
This is why I haven’t seriously dated anyone since Fleur. This is what I do. I stuff people into the gaps and spaces in my schedule, and if that doesn’t work for them, I let them show themselves out.
Not with Monroe,I try to remind myself.You’ve made time for her.
But a dinner date hardly counts as being ready for a relationship. I haven’t been able to make enough time to go see my own mother during the past six years. When I asked Monroe out, I was so sure this was the right thing to do, that this was a shot worth taking. It felt too strong to ignore. Now I’m not sure what convinced me I had any right to waste her time when I already know the ending that’s in store.
My phone beeps as if it’s in agreement with me, and I pick it up again to find an extremely unexpected message from the very girl I’m thinking about.
What are you wearing?
I stare at the screen like I’m waiting for the punch line of joke.
Oh my god,she eventually sends in a second text,I didn’t mean it like that. I meant what are you wearing tonight? I just wanted to tell you we’re not going anywhere fancy. I know you probably usually wear suits out on dates.
I settle back onto the couch, smiling to myself, all my worries instantly pushed aside as I imagine her getting flustered. She looks adorable when she’s flustered.
What makes you say that?
Her reply arrives quickly.
Because you own a nightclub and use the word ‘palate’ unironically.
That one actually makes me snort. Some of my doubts start to slip away as I picture the way she wrinkles her nose when she’s mocking me. She makes everything seem so easy, so light.
I’ve felt heavy for far too long.
Judgemental, much?I ask.
You going to prove me wrong?
I walk over to my closet and stand in front of its contents for a moment before I give her my answer.
I just might, Monroe. I just might.
It’s a long shot, but I cling to the chance that I might end up proving myself wrong for once too.
Eight
Monroe
CRUSHABLE: Slang term used to describe a beer that is flavourful and easy to drink
“Are you busy?”I ask Roxanne.
“Define busy,” she replies, her usually smoky voice sounding even raspier than usual on the phone today.
