last call

Sara Barielles ‘Between the Lines’

My friend D saw Auto at our favourite apple martini bar. He was with someone I’d imagine, but D withheld the information, I suppose assuming if he told me Auto was with a girl I’d go fall-apart-crazy. I wouldn’t. I never did the whole time we were semi-sort-of-together. I waited. So I waited for D to finish telling me.

He didn’t, so I had to phone him.

Here’s the story he says

‘Auto comes up to me and he’s actuallly not drunk at all. He says hi and asks if I’m going to punch him in the face cause if so, he’ll need a shot of Jack first. I tell him no and he says nice. He asks how you are and I tell him you’re great, no, even better than great, so in love and going back to school, buying that car, just enjoying her own time, and of course, being in love. He frowned and I added that it was a nice change of pace to see her so happy.

He asks if I think you’d want that piano, his mom is getting a new grand. Now is my turn to frown. He tells me how your hands flew across the keys unaware of your surroundings before you looked up to see him staring at you, and nothing else. He tells me how you’d make up stuff off the top of your head and how it was haunting and now how he tries to pluck away clumsily to imitate your sound. I tell him I didn’t know any of that, didn’t know you could play, and that I understand.

He offers me a drink, and I take it. We sit down. I tell him how much you loved those caramel apple martinis and how it is a very good thing you can’t drink away my problems. Problems? he asks thinking I am perfectly fine. I say no, remember, she is perfect. Just pretend she is dead I say, because she is long gone. He shakes his head, tells me all about his girl and her problems and I tell him I don’t care. He nods, takes it well and moves back to you. She’s really not ever coming back he says, half question and half declaration. I say if anything, you’ll end up alone, but not back where you were. I remember how much you loved being alone when it was your choice, but how much you love being loved. He says he wants you to be happy. I don’t know if that’s true, or if he wants you to be happy with him. Like settling or something. I tell him you are still the same person but you are very different. You are not exposed anymore and you like it better that way. I tell him if he keeps fucking with your head, and calling you, I’m going to bust him up. He sizes me up and agrees. I shake his hand and toss the bartender my tab.

Right before I’m out the door he says ‘you know I loved her.’ I said he shouldn’t have been such a coward. I said he could love who you are all he wants but he can’t push himself out of the way to really love you. I told him to add it to his list of mistakes. He raised his glass to me. I left.’

Well. There’s nothing like being vindicated, annoyed, and hurt all at once. It’s true if I hadn’t met my Italian boy I would go back to him. Why? D said so himself…I love being alone. It’s no reflection of my status or anyone elses’ it is just the way I am. I’m a fool, and if you agree, I’ll take it on the chin like everything else.

All this whole thing really made me want was an apple martini and some different keys besides these at my fingertips. What would I say to him without D as my spokesman? Stare at me while I play all you want, but that is all. I was never yours.