Aiken
Four long days had just about passed without a single glimpse of Claire. I hadn’t heard Smitty barking or caught a glimpse of her, with her black-as-night ponytail, running down the street. It wasn’t like I didn’t try either. I’d been running myself, early morning and late afternoon, and in between working at my desk in front of the window and heading out to investigate the real reason I was in East Kabumfuck—I certainly looked.
Now it was Friday night, and I decided not to sit in my house like a loner, pining for a conversation with a woman I didn’t even know or barely could pretend to understand. Likely, I was here for the long haul, so I needed to get out and explore Centre County, Pennsylvania, and all that it held for me.
Other than why I came and the mysterious woman next door, whom I was quickly becoming obsessed with—
Opening up Yelp on my laptop, I looked for recommended bars and hangouts, finding two places—Clive’s and Juicey’s.
Clive’s was apparently a shithole catering to locals, and Juicey’s had live music on Fridays. I went with the latter for the music alone. I didn’t care whether a place was a shithole. Seated at the bar later, I quickly realized what a mistake I’d made. Yes, the crowd was certainly closer to my age, but the desperate odor the women gave off wasn’t for me.
I was a man in a temple full of babies wanting to be sacrificed.
“Hiiii.” A scantily clad redhead fell into my side. “I’m Sheena, and it’s my birthhhday,” she slurred in my face.
“Happy birthday,” was all I gave her.
“Your arms are so huge, you must lift.” Her bright red nails scratched at the sleeve of my shirt, allowing her to get a better look at my arm.
“Hard labor, no lifting. Sorry to disappoint.”
I’d never been so grateful for my commuter education. Somehow, I’d avoided this entire scene.
“Oooh, hard labor. What’s that?” She looked up at me, doe-eyed, yet trying to appear sexual. I had to contain a laugh.
“Farm life, that’s what.”
She sucked her drink dry, the small cocktail straw straining as it was.
“Wanna do a shot?”
“Got my beer, I’m all good.” Turning my attention to the TV, I tried to focus on the baseball game.
“Wanna buy me another drink?”
Sheena failed to get it. I wasn’t interested. I hadn’t even given her my name—not that she seemed to care. I thought back to Claire not wanting to share her name with me.
I cared.
I didn’t know why, but I did.
“Sheena, I’m not your type. Not even a student.” I tried to wave her off. “I’m sure there’re better guys than me here. Why don’t you run along?”
Her pout did nothing for me, and I had an affinity for pouts.
“What do you do?” Her fingers came back to my arm.
I gently removed her hand from my skin and stood, tossed some money on the bar, and said, “I gotta roll. Have a good night, Sheena.”
Outside Juicey’s, I took stock of the area. Downtown of a college town, the Golden Arches the only familiar icon. Rows of local bars and coffee shops lined the sidewalks. Students zigged and zagged in and out of traffic and on and off sidewalks.
Get me outta here, I thought.
Fast.
Back home again, I settled on the back deck, a beer in one hand and a fresh cigar in the other, laptop balanced on my knees. The street was quiet as always, one of the few residential streets in a college town. For the moment, crickets were my only company. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful for the house. It might not have been my style or suit my bachelor credibility, but I liked it.
I bent my head back to look at the dark sky, puffing on my stogie and taking in the stars. They weren’t quite as clear as they were at home, but they’d do.
