| Romance Fiction posted March 6, 2016 | Chapters: |
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Short Story
A chapter in the book Short Stories and Flash
Seeking Regard
by michaelcahill
The door opens up without a sound. You can hear the rusty hinges squeal anyway. They are heavy doors but the need to get inside removes their weight. The stink of sweat and stale beer gives her a sense of relief as she feels hope finally fill a few holes within herself.
On the streets no one pays her any mind. All consider her with some level of disregard. To some a nondescript anything walking to anywhere from nowhere serves as a descriptor. To others a shuffling blight needing eradication like a lower level bug, one without cute spots or pretty wings, just a carcass and excretions, something to squash. And still others have no idea they’ve even passed her by, they’re the worst.
Her apartment smells like the bar. She keeps it tidy, but it still has the scent, it permeates the fabric of her life. Hope doesn’t find a respite there unless she brings it home with her. Sometimes she does, more often she doesn’t. She always decides, she always choses. She controls everything, no one else does.
“The usual, Trina.” She orders in the usual way. And thus a usual evening begins.
The characters are all assembled. They have the same characters in every dive bar across the land. The hard core drunks who’ve been there since the bar opened and will close it. There’s the social drinkers who are exactly the same as drunks. but deny their allegiance to them. Then there are the temporary regulars. They’ve been there for two weeks or two-months; the time doesn’t matter. They’ve had a change in their life and they’re drinking over it. Their spouse or lover left them, someone died, or something else of significance. They’ll get over it and one day they’ll be gone.
She may bring a temporary home, she may not. She won’t bring a regular home, she has to see them every day, she’s one of them. The prime pickin’s start filtering in about nine PM.
She’s attractive. She’s not beautiful, but she could be were she well to do. Her body is one that invites stares lasting a little too long followed by quick glances at objects people don’t normally consider, spots on the wall, dusty plastic plants or a particular spot on the floor. In the context of possible bar hook-ups, she is top of the line. She’s only thirty-one years old and if you look close it is how old she looks.
There’s a table with twenty-something college boys drinking pitchers of beer. They have the strength in numbers confidence making them feel bold until they leave the group, then their true nature is exposed.
There’s an older gentlemen sitting alone at a table writing something in a notebook. There’s a light attached to the book. He seems engrossed though he’s noticed her. He’s discreet and she hasn’t noticed his gaze.
There are couples and small groups of couples. It’s a busy Friday night. Someone might get lucky if she approves. She is lonely and dearly wants to approve.
The table of college boys has narrowed the first choice down to her and a heated discussion ensues. Who would be the lucky guy? The consensus focuses down to a young sophomore, a business major, most of the group considers to be a virgin or pretty damn close to it. They pick him out of a combination of charity and a little mean-spirited hope he makes a fool of himself to entertain them. With a little goading and challenge to his manliness he rises from the table.
He approaches her with what he hopes to be a swagger. It comes off as a poor impersonation of John Wayne performed by a poor John Wayne impersonator. She shows remarkable kindness and simply glances up with a half-smile.
“I’m Johnny, business major. Can I buy you a drink?” He shifts from one leg to the other awkwardly.
She lets several responses come and go in her mind, all of them crushing and life altering to Johnny. She responds, “Sure, Johnny, that would be nice.”
Johnny falls into the chair across from her and it makes a loud noise as it slides hard a couple inches from the force. “Come here often?”
Again, she contemplates several devastating remarks and kindly refrains. “Yes, I do. I live and work nearby. It’s convenient. A nice cozy place to unwind.”
“Well, I’d like to unwind in you, doll” Johnny smiles apparently considering his remark quite clever.
“I see. That doesn’t appear to be a likely occurrence, Johnny. You’re more likely to end up with a clock having no hands.” She laughs a dainty little chuckle, with purpose, but not overly mean.
“Whaddya mean? Isn’t that why you come here? I mean people come to these places to hook up right. We’re grownups. I’m a grown man and you’re for sure a grown woman. Why pretend?”
“Well, Johnny. I may wish to ‘hook-up’ as you so quaintly put it on occasion, but I chose who and I chose if. I usually steer clear of crude little boys who consider rudeness charming. Oh, and thanks for the drink.”
The man writing by himself observes this and begins to stir in his seat. He already realizes his degree of attraction for this woman and certainly this young punk won’t be the one to break his heart, not this little punk. He rises to approach her table.
She looks up to see the older gentleman approaching. Her instincts tell her to trust him. “Oh hi, I’m so glad you could make it. This is Johnny, he bought me a drink and kept me company waiting for you.”
“Pleased to meet you, Johnny.” He extends his hand and grips tightly enough to give Johnny the message to take a hike. Johnny gets the message and returns to his table in shame.
“Are you okay, miss. I apologize for my bold response, but I could see he was rude and getting out of hand. Being beautiful is no invitation for such behavior.”
“I can’t thank you enough. You are my Knight. I couldn’t believe how rude he was. You are just a prince. Won’t you join me? Let me buy you a drink. I don’t want to disturb your evening, but I must repay you in some small way for your kindness.”
He smiles and sits smoothly down. “What a wonderful treat this is for me. The loveliest woman in this place and this old fool is sharing a table with her. I’ve always said I’m impossibly lucky.”
The night wears on and the conversation never lags. Closing time nears.
“May I see you home? I won’t hear of you walking home unescorted.”
“I do live nearby. If it wouldn’t be much trouble.” In her mind, she considers him to be more than worthy of a night with her. She likes him and she has been lonely. She has done much, much worse many times. She smiles.
He gathers his few things together. His desire for her shocks him. He became aware of his attraction at the very first glimpse of her. It wasn’t an accident he approached her table. He had planned to all evening and just waited for a good time. Nonetheless, this proves to be beyond his wildest dreams. He can barely walk as they stroll home together hand in hand. He is near feverish for her.
They reach her modest apartment and stand before her door as she fumbles for her key.
He speaks. “I know this is forward and sudden. But I had the most wonderful time this evening. Your company is delightful. It’s as if I’ve always known you. Would I be out of line asking you to breakfast in the morning?”
Her heart beats rapidly as she searches for a response. She did not expect this. “Why, yes. That would be lovely. No, you are not out of line at all. I felt the same thing myself. I’m up early. Would nine be to your liking?”
“That would be perfect. I will be here at nine sharp. Until then.” He clasps her hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses it gently. He turns and walks down the street.
Her name is Joanna Constance Torrance. She works part-time as a waitress. She dreams of one day owning a flower shop. She’s very creative and is known to make the most amazing floral displays for weddings and special events. She has a date for breakfast in the morning.
The door opens up without a sound. You can hear the rusty hinges squeal anyway. They are heavy doors but the need to get inside removes their weight. The stink of sweat and stale beer gives her a sense of relief as she feels hope finally fill a few holes within herself.
On the streets no one pays her any mind. All consider her with some level of disregard. To some a nondescript anything walking to anywhere from nowhere serves as a descriptor. To others a shuffling blight needing eradication like a lower level bug, one without cute spots or pretty wings, just a carcass and excretions, something to squash. And still others have no idea they’ve even passed her by, they’re the worst.
Her apartment smells like the bar. She keeps it tidy, but it still has the scent, it permeates the fabric of her life. Hope doesn’t find a respite there unless she brings it home with her. Sometimes she does, more often she doesn’t. She always decides, she always choses. She controls everything, no one else does.
“The usual, Trina.” She orders in the usual way. And thus a usual evening begins.
The characters are all assembled. They have the same characters in every dive bar across the land. The hard core drunks who’ve been there since the bar opened and will close it. There’s the social drinkers who are exactly the same as drunks. but deny their allegiance to them. Then there are the temporary regulars. They’ve been there for two weeks or two-months; the time doesn’t matter. They’ve had a change in their life and they’re drinking over it. Their spouse or lover left them, someone died, or something else of significance. They’ll get over it and one day they’ll be gone.
She may bring a temporary home, she may not. She won’t bring a regular home, she has to see them every day, she’s one of them. The prime pickin’s start filtering in about nine PM.
She’s attractive. She’s not beautiful, but she could be were she well to do. Her body is one that invites stares lasting a little too long followed by quick glances at objects people don’t normally consider, spots on the wall, dusty plastic plants or a particular spot on the floor. In the context of possible bar hook-ups, she is top of the line. She’s only thirty-one years old and if you look close it is how old she looks.
There’s a table with twenty-something college boys drinking pitchers of beer. They have the strength in numbers confidence making them feel bold until they leave the group, then their true nature is exposed.
There’s an older gentlemen sitting alone at a table writing something in a notebook. There’s a light attached to the book. He seems engrossed though he’s noticed her. He’s discreet and she hasn’t noticed his gaze.
There are couples and small groups of couples. It’s a busy Friday night. Someone might get lucky if she approves. She is lonely and dearly wants to approve.
The table of college boys has narrowed the first choice down to her and a heated discussion ensues. Who would be the lucky guy? The consensus focuses down to a young sophomore, a business major, most of the group considers to be a virgin or pretty damn close to it. They pick him out of a combination of charity and a little mean-spirited hope he makes a fool of himself to entertain them. With a little goading and challenge to his manliness he rises from the table.
He approaches her with what he hopes to be a swagger. It comes off as a poor impersonation of John Wayne performed by a poor John Wayne impersonator. She shows remarkable kindness and simply glances up with a half-smile.
“I’m Johnny, business major. Can I buy you a drink?” He shifts from one leg to the other awkwardly.
She lets several responses come and go in her mind, all of them crushing and life altering to Johnny. She responds, “Sure, Johnny, that would be nice.”
Johnny falls into the chair across from her and it makes a loud noise as it slides hard a couple inches from the force. “Come here often?”
Again, she contemplates several devastating remarks and kindly refrains. “Yes, I do. I live and work nearby. It’s convenient. A nice cozy place to unwind.”
“Well, I’d like to unwind in you, doll” Johnny smiles apparently considering his remark quite clever.
“I see. That doesn’t appear to be a likely occurrence, Johnny. You’re more likely to end up with a clock having no hands.” She laughs a dainty little chuckle, with purpose, but not overly mean.
“Whaddya mean? Isn’t that why you come here? I mean people come to these places to hook up right. We’re grownups. I’m a grown man and you’re for sure a grown woman. Why pretend?”
“Well, Johnny. I may wish to ‘hook-up’ as you so quaintly put it on occasion, but I chose who and I chose if. I usually steer clear of crude little boys who consider rudeness charming. Oh, and thanks for the drink.”
The man writing by himself observes this and begins to stir in his seat. He already realizes his degree of attraction for this woman and certainly this young punk won’t be the one to break his heart, not this little punk. He rises to approach her table.
She looks up to see the older gentleman approaching. Her instincts tell her to trust him. “Oh hi, I’m so glad you could make it. This is Johnny, he bought me a drink and kept me company waiting for you.”
“Pleased to meet you, Johnny.” He extends his hand and grips tightly enough to give Johnny the message to take a hike. Johnny gets the message and returns to his table in shame.
“Are you okay, miss. I apologize for my bold response, but I could see he was rude and getting out of hand. Being beautiful is no invitation for such behavior.”
“I can’t thank you enough. You are my Knight. I couldn’t believe how rude he was. You are just a prince. Won’t you join me? Let me buy you a drink. I don’t want to disturb your evening, but I must repay you in some small way for your kindness.”
He smiles and sits smoothly down. “What a wonderful treat this is for me. The loveliest woman in this place and this old fool is sharing a table with her. I’ve always said I’m impossibly lucky.”
The night wears on and the conversation never lags. Closing time nears.
“May I see you home? I won’t hear of you walking home unescorted.”
“I do live nearby. If it wouldn’t be much trouble.” In her mind, she considers him to be more than worthy of a night with her. She likes him and she has been lonely. She has done much, much worse many times. She smiles.
He gathers his few things together. His desire for her shocks him. He became aware of his attraction at the very first glimpse of her. It wasn’t an accident he approached her table. He had planned to all evening and just waited for a good time. Nonetheless, this proves to be beyond his wildest dreams. He can barely walk as they stroll home together hand in hand. He is near feverish for her.
They reach her modest apartment and stand before her door as she fumbles for her key.
He speaks. “I know this is forward and sudden. But I had the most wonderful time this evening. Your company is delightful. It’s as if I’ve always known you. Would I be out of line asking you to breakfast in the morning?”
Her heart beats rapidly as she searches for a response. She did not expect this. “Why, yes. That would be lovely. No, you are not out of line at all. I felt the same thing myself. I’m up early. Would nine be to your liking?”
“That would be perfect. I will be here at nine sharp. Until then.” He clasps her hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses it gently. He turns and walks down the street.
Her name is Joanna Constance Torrance. She works part-time as a waitress. She dreams of one day owning a flower shop. She’s very creative and is known to make the most amazing floral displays for weddings and special events. She has a date for breakfast in the morning.
On the streets no one pays her any mind. All consider her with some level of disregard. To some a nondescript anything walking to anywhere from nowhere serves as a descriptor. To others a shuffling blight needing eradication like a lower level bug, one without cute spots or pretty wings, just a carcass and excretions, something to squash. And still others have no idea they’ve even passed her by, they’re the worst.
Her apartment smells like the bar. She keeps it tidy, but it still has the scent, it permeates the fabric of her life. Hope doesn’t find a respite there unless she brings it home with her. Sometimes she does, more often she doesn’t. She always decides, she always choses. She controls everything, no one else does.
“The usual, Trina.” She orders in the usual way. And thus a usual evening begins.
The characters are all assembled. They have the same characters in every dive bar across the land. The hard core drunks who’ve been there since the bar opened and will close it. There’s the social drinkers who are exactly the same as drunks. but deny their allegiance to them. Then there are the temporary regulars. They’ve been there for two weeks or two-months; the time doesn’t matter. They’ve had a change in their life and they’re drinking over it. Their spouse or lover left them, someone died, or something else of significance. They’ll get over it and one day they’ll be gone.
She may bring a temporary home, she may not. She won’t bring a regular home, she has to see them every day, she’s one of them. The prime pickin’s start filtering in about nine PM.
She’s attractive. She’s not beautiful, but she could be were she well to do. Her body is one that invites stares lasting a little too long followed by quick glances at objects people don’t normally consider, spots on the wall, dusty plastic plants or a particular spot on the floor. In the context of possible bar hook-ups, she is top of the line. She’s only thirty-one years old and if you look close it is how old she looks.
There’s a table with twenty-something college boys drinking pitchers of beer. They have the strength in numbers confidence making them feel bold until they leave the group, then their true nature is exposed.
There’s an older gentlemen sitting alone at a table writing something in a notebook. There’s a light attached to the book. He seems engrossed though he’s noticed her. He’s discreet and she hasn’t noticed his gaze.
There are couples and small groups of couples. It’s a busy Friday night. Someone might get lucky if she approves. She is lonely and dearly wants to approve.
The table of college boys has narrowed the first choice down to her and a heated discussion ensues. Who would be the lucky guy? The consensus focuses down to a young sophomore, a business major, most of the group considers to be a virgin or pretty damn close to it. They pick him out of a combination of charity and a little mean-spirited hope he makes a fool of himself to entertain them. With a little goading and challenge to his manliness he rises from the table.
He approaches her with what he hopes to be a swagger. It comes off as a poor impersonation of John Wayne performed by a poor John Wayne impersonator. She shows remarkable kindness and simply glances up with a half-smile.
“I’m Johnny, business major. Can I buy you a drink?” He shifts from one leg to the other awkwardly.
She lets several responses come and go in her mind, all of them crushing and life altering to Johnny. She responds, “Sure, Johnny, that would be nice.”
Johnny falls into the chair across from her and it makes a loud noise as it slides hard a couple inches from the force. “Come here often?”
Again, she contemplates several devastating remarks and kindly refrains. “Yes, I do. I live and work nearby. It’s convenient. A nice cozy place to unwind.”
“Well, I’d like to unwind in you, doll” Johnny smiles apparently considering his remark quite clever.
“I see. That doesn’t appear to be a likely occurrence, Johnny. You’re more likely to end up with a clock having no hands.” She laughs a dainty little chuckle, with purpose, but not overly mean.
“Whaddya mean? Isn’t that why you come here? I mean people come to these places to hook up right. We’re grownups. I’m a grown man and you’re for sure a grown woman. Why pretend?”
“Well, Johnny. I may wish to ‘hook-up’ as you so quaintly put it on occasion, but I chose who and I chose if. I usually steer clear of crude little boys who consider rudeness charming. Oh, and thanks for the drink.”
The man writing by himself observes this and begins to stir in his seat. He already realizes his degree of attraction for this woman and certainly this young punk won’t be the one to break his heart, not this little punk. He rises to approach her table.
She looks up to see the older gentleman approaching. Her instincts tell her to trust him. “Oh hi, I’m so glad you could make it. This is Johnny, he bought me a drink and kept me company waiting for you.”
“Pleased to meet you, Johnny.” He extends his hand and grips tightly enough to give Johnny the message to take a hike. Johnny gets the message and returns to his table in shame.
“Are you okay, miss. I apologize for my bold response, but I could see he was rude and getting out of hand. Being beautiful is no invitation for such behavior.”
“I can’t thank you enough. You are my Knight. I couldn’t believe how rude he was. You are just a prince. Won’t you join me? Let me buy you a drink. I don’t want to disturb your evening, but I must repay you in some small way for your kindness.”
He smiles and sits smoothly down. “What a wonderful treat this is for me. The loveliest woman in this place and this old fool is sharing a table with her. I’ve always said I’m impossibly lucky.”
The night wears on and the conversation never lags. Closing time nears.
“May I see you home? I won’t hear of you walking home unescorted.”
“I do live nearby. If it wouldn’t be much trouble.” In her mind, she considers him to be more than worthy of a night with her. She likes him and she has been lonely. She has done much, much worse many times. She smiles.
He gathers his few things together. His desire for her shocks him. He became aware of his attraction at the very first glimpse of her. It wasn’t an accident he approached her table. He had planned to all evening and just waited for a good time. Nonetheless, this proves to be beyond his wildest dreams. He can barely walk as they stroll home together hand in hand. He is near feverish for her.
They reach her modest apartment and stand before her door as she fumbles for her key.
He speaks. “I know this is forward and sudden. But I had the most wonderful time this evening. Your company is delightful. It’s as if I’ve always known you. Would I be out of line asking you to breakfast in the morning?”
Her heart beats rapidly as she searches for a response. She did not expect this. “Why, yes. That would be lovely. No, you are not out of line at all. I felt the same thing myself. I’m up early. Would nine be to your liking?”
“That would be perfect. I will be here at nine sharp. Until then.” He clasps her hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses it gently. He turns and walks down the street.
Her name is Joanna Constance Torrance. She works part-time as a waitress. She dreams of one day owning a flower shop. She’s very creative and is known to make the most amazing floral displays for weddings and special events. She has a date for breakfast in the morning.
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