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<\/h2>\n<\/h2>\nby Keith Nunes<\/p>\n
A middle-aged guy in a dark jacket and a patterned shirt sitting at a bar, a woman of a similar age in a deep purple dress walks over and sits next to him.<\/p>\n
She says peering into him, red lipstick glistening: \u201cWhat are you drinking?\u201d<\/p>\n
He says glancing and glancing again: \u201cI buy my own drinks, but thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWaiting for someone, something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust the next clich\u00e9.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smirks, her blue eyes staring at him in the giant mirror behind the bar and his blue eyes staring at his drink.<\/p>\n
He says, holding her eyes in his and then looking back at his drink: \u201cHey, look sorry I\u2019m just flowing along nicely in my own miserable little river of self-pity and you don\u2019t need this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBest not tell me what I need.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well, don\u2019t we all need the same things?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve had the same things for way too long.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat caught me out,\u201d he says, \u201cI\u2019d forgotten what it\u2019s like to be surprised.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI surprised myself, not often I feel I can be honest around a man without setting off a booby-trap.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hands around his drink: \u201cLately I\u2019ve been told I\u2019m no man at all so I guess you\u2019re still not really being honest around a man.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiles and runs her hand through her mink-coloured hair.<\/p>\n
He smiles, glances at her and away: \u201cI feel like telling you my name now \u2026 how do you feel about that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, if you prefer make it a pseudonym.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe name on my birth certificate says Jacob.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ve been calling me bitch for a while but I prefer Tess.\u201d<\/p>\n
They sit quietly, Herbie Hancock jazz drifting through the bar.<\/p>\n
\u201cI write for a struggling magazine and I\u2019m not of any great use as a functioning male role model, this is my first drink in five years and I\u2019m not enjoying it, I was hoping to spiral down rapidly \u2026 sort of make a decision without making a decision, that\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m an Olympic fencer and I stab people in the back.\u201d<\/p>\n
They both laugh like they haven\u2019t for years.<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess I\u2019m waiting \u2026 odd,\u201d she says, \u201cI\u2019ve always known what I wanted \u2026 and I got it, I made damn sure I got it but what the hell it was I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy wife is waiting too, waiting for me to either focus on the marriage or leave, \u2018just fucking make up your mind\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman is covered in a wry smile as she steps off the stool beside him: \u201cSo my lovely husband, are you coming home?\u201d<\/p>\n
He eases onto his feet, kisses her cheek, takes her arm and they leave with more than a hint of swing.<\/p>\n
###<\/p>\n
Keith Nunes is from New Zealand. His stories have been published around the globe. He has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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