Come Back To Me

Chapter One The Splinter

The first time I saw him I had a splinter in my finger. I was wiping down the bar and there was a nick in the wood. My thumb happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I yelped and held my finger up to my face to assess the damage. A sizable sliver of dark brown was buried in the pad of my thumb. You could see it from the outside and feel it from the inside.

“Let me see it,” he said, sliding into a bar stool and holding out his hand. It was something a family member would do, or perhaps even a friend.

“See what?” I asked, looking around. I knew exactly what he was asking to see, but I wasn’t about to let a strange man touch me. Where had he come from? I didn’t even know we were open yet.

It was the morning after Thanksgiving and it was eerily quiet in the city, everyone gone for the long weekend. Perhaps he was someone’s friend—the manager or one of the cooks. He wiggled his fingers impatiently at me and I stepped forward to place my hand in his. I don’t know why I did it. But, it was early and I had a hangover. I was lulled by the day off and feeling less hostile than usual. He held my hand up to the light and nodded. It reminded me of a surgeon looking at an x-ray.

“Hand me that duct tape,” he said.

I looked around. What duct tape? This was a restaurant, not a hardware store. But there it was; a roll of duct tape behind me, wedged in a wine locker. I hadn’t noticed it before. I glanced back at him, my eyebrows raised.

“Do you want the splinter out or not?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. I grabbed the tape and handed it to him, more curious than in need of help. He used a pocketknife to slice a strip of it off the roll, one of those red Swiss Army things, then he applied the strip right over the splinter and put pressure on it until I flinched.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Sh.” He had full lips, puckered to shush me. He looked up suddenly; his eyes were a soft green. A warm flip in my belly let me know I was interested. No. Nope. I pushed the feeling away.

“Courage,” he said, with a small grin.

The tape was yanked off and I made an embarrassing noise despite the fact that it didn’t hurt. As soon as he let go of my hand, I lifted it to my face. The splinter was gone, the little sliver of it stuck to the tape. Pure genius.

“Hey there, MacGyver,” I said, studying my finger. “Can I buy you a beer?” I asked. “For saving my life.” It was a generous offer. If you bought men a beer, they thought you wanted to fuck them.

But, the guy—splinter guy—was already on his feet and picking up his jacket to go. He had a look I’d come to familiarize with Seattle: honest eyes, a beanie, plaid. Personally, I liked a little more structure around men, maybe in the form of a business suit. But, the more you looked at the guy, the more attractive he became. I stopped looking.

“I have somewhere to be,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Maybe another time.”

I stared after him, confused. Why come into a bar if you had somewhere else to be? He’d taken the duct tape and my splinter with him. The doors opened once more and a couple walked in just as he walked out. I didn’t have time to think on it anymore, the lunch shift was starting.