Hollow Lake

I met him at "The Hideout".  A little bar only the locals inhabit, because you have to be lost to find it.  We serve a rougher crowd, not the one's you'd find in Sunday School.  I tend bar here  and everyone does know my name.  It's Darlene.  But most folks call me hateful.  I don't mind. It keeps the riff raff in line to have a harsh reputation. 1

I have yet to be pinched, kissed or patted by a patron.  They all still have their fingers and I'm still walking free.  So, when this  fellow comes waltzing in wearing loafers and a silk tie and he asked for me, everyone left him alone.  I'd been a loner ever since my Hugh died in an automobile accident. That a man even dared ask for me bought him respect.  Even if he was over dressed for "The Hideout". 2

I drew him a beer, on the house, sat it in front of him.  He smiled at me and took a swallow.  You can tell alot about a man by the way he drinks his beer. Short sips; he's stingy, given to impatience. Long draughts of it; he's lazy, perhaps taciturn.  If he slurps and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, it's just bad manners.  If he does a mix of all of those, best leave him alone.  He's unstable, has no clear direction.  3

This fellow was no slouch at beer drinking, he liked his beer, that made me like him. He tilted the cup to just the right angle, took medium sized drinks.   He was definately good company for Barbeque.  "You hungry?"  I asked, He looked at me kind of quizical.  He lost points for that, but I was starving, so I said "I'm starving. Let's go."  I could tell by the look in his eyes he got the wrong impression.  No problem, I would set him straight later.  I drove.   4

He was new in town so it kind of surprised him when we actually pulled up at Burnt Brown's Barbeque where we ate and talked.  He used a napkin quite nicely and at the appropriate times. Even cut his sandwich in half for neatness and manageability. And he never talked with his mouthful. He definately won back points. 5

Afterwards, I drove us out to the lake.   We sat under the trees, talking more.  I didn't think of my Hugh excpet once, and that was when he said how huge the moon was.  It sounded more like "I just noticed how 'Hugh' the moon is".   But,  I didn't cry.  It was actually quite comforting to think of Hugh as the moon, watching over me.  I felt certain that Hugh would approve.  That he would have removed the cigar from his mouth, smiled at me, as he always did..and say..."Baby, he has my eyes, so you'll always think of me"...He was right.  This stranger had the most beautiful eyes.  A dark shade of blue.  Exactly the shade of my Hugh's eyes. 6

I kept liking the smooth tone of his voice, the way he said certain words.  In the moonlight I could see his lips move.  He kept to his side of the car, and I, Darlene, the Bartender, had an awkward moment, when he reached over and patted my arm during a joke.  It was a tasteful joke, and that was a part of it so I didn't break a finger. Wasn't even tempted.   That's how I knew I was in trouble. 7

That and I kept picturing him behind the bar, a damp bartowel tucked inside his trousers, his tie tucked inside his shirt between the buttons.  I wondered how he would look in Hawaiian print?.  And I wondered how he liked his eggs. 8