The Chair

He walked up and he was smiling. At first I was mistrustful, expecting it to be a dime-a-dozen come-on grin. But then the smoky haze parted a bit and I have to admit I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder. He was just friendly. "Well, excuse me," I don't like to admit it, but his deep Texas accent pleased me, as was the fact he was holding a good stein of thick golden beer; of all the stetson wearing, boot knocking, Marlboro men in this bar- in Jersey- he seemed something like the genuine article "but I think you've got my chair." Of course, a regular. He was probably used to this spot, and so was his wife. I should've waited a bit before just picking any old place to sit down. I grabbed my purse and stubbed out the cigarette I'd been smoking. It was cheap, a Newport I think, but I don't know. Something full of tar and nicotine, a smoke that did not fuck around. I turned and was about to go play something on the juke (I'd brought quarters just for the occasion) but he said "You know, that one's taken, I don't mind if you sit here. I'd be glad to share." I did sit back down, and he leaned back, looking around. It was normal for the first five minutes, for both of us to cast about for something . I hoped he wouldn't try for any of that self referential humor crap. I'd always been of the opinion that jokes were for comedians, and that humor should flow from conversation. "Well, it's usually backed here on Friday nights. Oh, if you don't mind could I talk you out of a light?"

"I think you'll find you can." That made him smile again, it was an uninhibited grin that lit up his whole face, boyish almost, although there was nothing young about him.

"Well thank you, could I drink you a buy?" he brought a hand to his face, blushing slightly, but to his credit he didn't look away or make a joke about it, trying to play it cool "Awe listen to me. What I mean is could I buy you a drink? Anything you like."

"A gin fizz, please." as he stood up I looked him over appraisingly. Still young enough, with long muscle from a lifetime of work. I guessed his hands would be wide and calloused and deeply warm. "Thank you." I accepted the drink and took a sip, pleased by the light bubbliness. He had another beer with him, but was walking and speaking steadily enough, so I guessed it was third at most.

"Oh you're welcome, I don't think that I caught your name."

"That's because I didn't give it. I'm Amanda."

"Are you... waiting for someone to meet you here?" He phrased it carefully, not like he was looking for the right thing to say, though, just like he was worried that I would be offended. I was oddly flattered, even though as a woman of the nineties I'm supposed to be insulted by chivalry. At least, I think I am.

"Not yet." I smiled, and put just a bit of my devilishness in it.

"That makes two of us; glad you came." he toasted me with his beer, and I giggled a bit and clinked glasses with him. I don't like giggling, but his damn smile was infectious.

We talked a while, and it turns out he was a regular, for the longest time. I quizzed him about the bar through a second and third gin fizz, and was getting just a bit silly, even though his beer wasn't even half gone.

"No I don't know the name of the band but they're good, aren't they? Would you like to dance?" i nodded and let him take me by the hand onto the dance floor. I felt so small in his grasp, he really was man's man. But he danced with grace and enthusiasm, if not with a lot of experience. He managed to stay off my toes and even pull off a passable spin and dip during a lively number. The band was really very good.

A slow song came up and he pulled me in lightly. I laid my head on his chest, breathing in the smell of him. My hands went lightly to his shoulder. His denim jacket must have been very sturdy and rough at one point, but age and hard wear had made the cotton as light and smooth and soft as velvet. With gin and contentedness, I sighed and lightly kissed his neck. I could feel his tendons move as he smiled. I liked the idea that his whole body smiled when he did, the joy in that expression suffusing his whole being.

"I like this song too, it reminds me of you and me. Baby, do you think there's a chance that-" he hesitated, not wanting to be too bold "- later on, I could drive you home?"

I smiled and nodded and we swayed and spun and laughed and talked a bit longer, and as he held the door to his truck open for me, I thanked him for the ride. "Oh I don't mind at all."

I turned to him and kissed his lips. I couldn't help it. And I felt that smile under my mouth and smiled myself. There was no passion, and precious little romance in the kiss, but it was sweet and long.

"I like you, and I never like anyone."

"Oh, I like you too, and to tell you the truth, that wasn't my chair after all." I laughed and thought about that. Oh, I like you too, and to tell you the truth, that wasn't my chair after all. You can't tell sometimes.