The Bar (Contest Poem)

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I sat at the far end of the bar next to a cowboy quietly downing longnecks.  He'd look my way once in a while, but so far hadn't said a word.  Either because I was avoiding his eyes, or the music, which was much too loud. Does alcohol dull the hearing?  I hadn't  had a drink in so long, I'd forgotten.  2

The glass in front of me still full after an hour, I lifted it to my lips, 3

pretending to sip.  Knowing how out of place I must look,  sitting4

there staring into my glass.  The music stopped, another song began.5

The cowboy ordered another long neck with a small movement of6

his wrist and fingers.  A regular here, I thought.  7

When I finally saw them enter, my heart stopped.  He held the door for her, she walked beneath his arm, having to duck her head a bit.  Still the top of her hair brushed his arm.  They laughed about it, as she reached up, brushed the stray locks back into place.  8

She was blond, classy.  Surprisingly, they chose to sit at the bar. I slid off the barstool, took an empty booth just to my right.  I could see them well, but they'd have to turn to see me.  They were so caught up in each other, they didn't notice the movement. The cowboy, however turned his head my way, still saying nothing.  Instead, he emptied his longneck.  Head  tilted back so far, I marveled that his hat stayed put.  I saw him signal the bartender for another beer.9

My eyes going back to the couple at the bar.  They each had a drink..his would be rum and coke.  The only thing he ever drank. Hers, I couldn't tell.  Something fruity, in a curvy glass, pineapple and cherry perched on the lip of the glass.  10

Frequently they would incline their heads toward one another, I could see their profiles.  She wasn't beautiful, in the classic sense, but she had a certain style about her.  Cultured, I thought.  Money?  Her clothes seemed to support that.  Her fawn jacket perfectly complimenting the light shade of her hair.  It was well cut, and tended to stay in place, even when she bobbed her head as she laughed.11

He slipped off his jacket, folded it laying it on the barstool next to him.  I sat back further in the booth, afraid he'd  look back.  I'd no need to worry, he turned his attention immediately back to her.  He was wearing the hunter green shirt I'd given him last Christmas.  12

She ran a hand over his back, lightly scratched his shoulder.  I saw the glint of diamond and wedding ring.  So, she was married, too.  Then I noticed he had his ring, on, also.  No secrets, either of them.  Some nerve, I thought.13

They finished their drinks, he laid a bill on the counter.  Held her hand as she stood, snagged up his jacket, walked behind her to the door, his hand at the small of her back, he opened the door.14

I knew exactly where they were going.  Knew the name of the motel, even the room number. Always the same one.  It had been written on the inside of a match book cover, in his jacket pocket. He'd gotten careless over time.  I found it when I emptied his pockets, needing to take his jacket to the cleaners.  Instead, I'd replaced the match book, rehung the jacket.  No tears, though.  Not this time.15

I'd followed his car a couple of nights, watched him turn into the bar's parking lot.  Driving on then, not ready for what I might see.  For what else I might learn.  16

Tonight, though, I'd come here straight from work.  He'd left a message on my cell phone.  He'd be working late, again.  Be home as soon as he was through.  17

I looked up as the cowboy towered over me. "Husband?" he asked18

inclining his head in the direction of their deserted bar stools.19

"Yes." I answered.  Sounding surprisingly calm, even to myself.20

He stood there silently for a moment.  21

"Dance?"  he asked.  22

I wanted to laugh.  Huge life crisis..and this stranger asked me23

to dance.  I looked up at him, ready to give him an angry retort.24

His gaze was serious, eyes pained.  I saw it even in the dimly lit bar, 25

felt it went as deep as mine. 26

I nodded in affirmation.  He helped me from the booth.  Went over 27

to the juke box, dropped in his money.  I heard the first strands of 28

"It's Getting Better All the Time."  by Brooks and Dunn.29

He lead me to the small  dance floor.  Took me in his arms, though30

I kept a proper distance.  He leaned down, turned his head slightly31

to accomodate his hat.  He smelled of Old Spice and beer.  32

"My wife." was all he said.33

And with that, I  held him tightly as I cried, and we moved in small 34

circles on the dance floor.35