Chapter 29 Him
Him
Then
The New Brew is one of those pompous drinking establishments that thinks way too much of itself.
Walking in, I spot a row of framed newspaper and magazine articles hanging on the walls near the door that gush about how great the place is, with its innovative chef-curated food selections and artisan cocktails.
Not to mention the eponymous brews, which are made in a facility at the back of the building.
I can see the silver fermentation tanks in a room separated from the taproom by a wall with a huge glass viewing window.
The place is jammed with a crowd of mostly under-thirties, many of whom I suspect are students.
A band is playing on a stage at the far end of the room, doing their best to sound like Nirvana for some unfathomable reason, and failing miserably.
Most of the people in this bar weren’t even born when Cobain was singing about teen spirit.
I look around. You must be here somewhere because it’s almost nine thirty, and you arranged to meet here at nine.
But I don’t see you, which makes me nervous.
I wasn’t watching your apartment today because I was working a shift at the hospital, but I wasn’t worried, because I knew where you would be this evening.
I can’t be with you all the time, my beautiful Raven.
But now I wonder if you changed your mind after we met at the store yesterday.
I hope not, because I planned for us to spend the evening together.
But then I spot you standing at the bar in a tight little knee-length sleeveless red dress that I’ve never seen you wear before.
Is it new to you, maybe something you found at the vintage clothes store, or is it just not part of your regular rotation?
I circle around, hoping to get a better look and see who you are with, and at first, I think you must be alone, because I don’t see your friends.
Not the one with the bad complexion, nor the one with the big nose.
I was certain that you’d be out with one or even both of them, because they’re the only friends you’ve hung out with in all the time I’ve been seeing you.
But then, I realize that you aren’t alone.
You’re on a date.
He stands there sipping a hazy IPA and staring like a teenager enraptured by his first crush while you talk a mile a minute, clutching your cocktail glass.
This is unexpected. No wonder you’re wearing that dress that shows so much cleavage. I can tell that you’re not wearing a bra. I wonder how you met this guy and how you could do this to me.
I want to listen, to hear what you’re saying and see how serious this is between the two of you, but I dare not get too close.
Not so soon after visiting the store. That would not be smart.
You might still recognize me, even though I’m not wearing the shirt, the one with the brass buttons.
Not that I would. Imagine if you spotted me here tonight wearing the shirt I bought from you yesterday while you were making plans to meet at this bar?
That would unsettle you, Raven, and I’m no creep.
I make my way to the other end of the bar and order a beer—a hefeweizen with the ridiculous name of One Night Stand—not because I like beer all that much, but because I don’t want to draw unwanted attention, and being in a brewpub without a drink looks . . . well, weird.
I watch you play with your hair and flirt and laugh.
You stand too close and touch his arm once in a while, and you are trying too hard.
It makes me think that yes, this is a first date.
You don’t know him well enough to be yourself yet.
I wonder if this is how you would behave if we were on a first date, but I don’t think so.
The chemistry between us is undeniable, but the two of you .
. . I don’t see it lasting. In fact, I’m sure it won’t last. Which is why I’m so surprised when, a short while later, you finish your drink and start toward the door, with your doe-eyed companion in tow.
Are you ending the date early? Is he walking you to the subway like a gentleman? Or is it something worse? I don’t like to think about that last one. I don’t want to go there. I slap a ten down on the bar to pay for the drink I’ve barely touched, slide off my stool, and follow.
You are heading toward the T station, just as I suspected. I’m disappointed to see that he’s still at your side. In fact, he has slipped an arm around your waist. When you disappear underground, start down the steps toward the station, I pick up the pace because I can’t lose the pair of you.
The platform is mostly empty, so I hang back near a post that blocks your view and wait for you to board the train.
When you do, I choose the next car and stand near the door so that when you disembark, I can do the same.
We go five stops, and then you get off and change trains, hopping on the Orange Line.
I know where you’re going because we’ve been here before.
And I’m not wrong. Soon we’re in the Back Bay and heading to your apartment, and that man is still with you.
I want to believe that he’s just seeing you safely home, that when we get there, he’s going to give you a peck on the cheek, turn around, and walk back toward the train station.
Instead, you let him into the building, and the door closes behind you.
I’m left with nothing but my imagination for company.
Which is not a good thing, Raven, because my mind is going to dark places, and I’m starting to think this could be a problem.